Tag Archives: graffiti

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.  This is a page from our first book, “Blue-ish Freaks.”  Find all our books at www.sallemander.com or follow the links above.   -Marsha

The Old City Square

Vacation: Day 1

Arrived in the city okay, it was an easy flight.  I booked a little Bed & Breakfast right off the central square, in the old part of the city.  It’s as beautiful as the pictures.  I love the architecture…but I seem to have arrived in the aftermath of some kind of protest or riot or something.  There were broken windows, burning debris and overturned cars.  I also saw injured people being carried away.  But…it was all cleared up in no time and the old city returned to its colorful, medieval charm.  I love the costumes they dress up in for the tourists.  Excited to begin exploring this place.

 

Vacation:  Day 3

There was a riot in the old city square again.  It was very scary…and exhilarating!  I had met some of the locals while shopping.  They seemed nice enough but looked suspiciously at me, as a foreigner, and were wound up waaaay too tight.  Events in the news had people on edge, but I managed to piece it together from gossip;

I seems they had a popular athlete who used his fame and fortune to protest the discrimination of his own minority (brown skinned) culture.  I noticed how they treated brown people in my brief interactions, so far, despite being the same species.  There had already been several ugly riots…not to end the injustice, but to keep the status quo, so people could enjoy their sports without feeling uncomfortable.  They smashed and looted brown skinned people’s businesses and burned the athlete’s swag and effigy in the old city square.  It sounded ridiculous…

This time people were upset because a prominent shoe company hired the same athlete to advertise their brand.  A little research showed that the company used child slave labor in their factories…but that didn’t bother people.  They just hated the brown people protesting.  The government and the wealthy used the media to whip everyone up into a frenzy…and they rioted.

People smashed and looted and gathered up all their shoes and burned them in the old city square.  This place is weird.

 

Vacation:  Day 6

There was another riot today.  No sooner had things settled down and I was able to get out to enjoy the city again, when new rumblings of trouble began among the locals.  This time it was political.  It took me about an hour of research to get the measure of their incredibly broken economic and political system;

So…the city’s last big election featured two grossly incompetent candidates.  The numerous crimes and scandals of the winner were already rich fodder for regular riots…but this time (with the help of elitist propaganda), instead of demonizing the source of uncomfortable information (as usual), they stirred people up against the press, the messengers of all the embarrassing and dangerous news.  Once whipped into a proper froth, the rioters smashed and looted, rounding up journalists and writers, beating them bloody and burning all the books and newspapers in the old city square…they also burned down the city library.

It’s too bad, it was a gorgeous building and some of their literature was extraordinary.

 

Vacation:  Day 10

I spent the last few days locked in my room.  The city wasn’t safe.  There was a minor riot yesterday, something about red haired people seemed to provoke a spontaneous fracas.  They’re happening more and more frequently.  This time ‘gingers’ were rounded up and beaten, they broke red stuff, looted red stores…oh, I don’t know!!!  I was too busy dying my hair black to get the details.  It doesn’t matter…there’s a new riot brewing now;

People just found out that their children are being raped and abused by priests…but they LOVE their religion.  I’m worried they might love it more than their children.  I have to get out of here before they start burning their children in the old city square.  This place is insane.  I was supposed to stay two more weeks but I really can’t take much more.  I’ve arranged for a flight out.  I leave tonight…wish me luck.

 ***This is a new short story I did, this week, for a new sci-fi/flash-fiction book I’m working on – with illustrations by John Allemand.  The working title is, “A Poke in the Eye.”  The image was originally a cover for the June, 2003 issue of Analog Magazine.  You can find our current books at www.sallemander.com (see the link above).   -Marsha

Sausage Fest

Willy arrived at the party with his friend Willy and his other friend Willy.  He was happy to be invited, he and his friends didn’t get many invites (they were kinda nerds) but it soon became apparent that this party would be another sausage fest.  The prospects looked pretty gloomy when he saw that everybody there was a ‘Willy’.  At least there was plenty of beer.  After a while he noticed the place getting really hot and humid.  There might as well have been flames licking up between the gratings in the floor…and all the Willies were getting some awkward, nasty looking tan lines – just like his – and they were drinking gallons of ice-cold beer to compensate for…

That’s when he realized…it was all a scam.  This was a…..BAR-BE-QUE!!!

***Happy Labor Day!  If you are a wealthy capitalist, today is a day of triumph.  You’ve won the class war that most people still don’t seem to realize already happened.  If you are a working person, don’t despair, sure the unions are mostly dead and your job is a shit-show, but from here there’s nowhere to go but up…HOORAY!!!  This is one from our “Body-Oddies” project, a craptastic journey through the rancid mind of my artist, John Allemand.  find and buy our books at www.sallemander.com.    -Marsha

Old Wives’ Tail

Old-wives-tail-44

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 last night 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’s mother-in-law (from her old job).  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.  Find our books at www.sallemander.com    -Marsha

 

Handyman

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Darryl woke up with that feeling again – impossible to describe but all too familiar at this point. He kept his eyes closed for a while longer, savoring the dream he was having about his old, normal life…before all the changes…before every morning became a horror show, wondering if he would find another growth.

He did his best to soothe his anxiety, tried to make lemonade out of the lemons that seemed to be smothering him.  After all, how could yet another, extra hand possibly be all that bad for a skilled craftsman who worked with his hands?  Each one seemed to have all his talent and strength.  His productivity tripled, he was making money hand-over-fist (no pun intended) and for the first time in his life, people found him “kinda” interesting…..

But…waking up every few days with another fully formed hand growing out of some empty patch of his flesh was really starting to effect his insanity.

***This was a tough image to pull out of John’s thick head, but with an iron skillet and a power drill I finally managed it (long story).  It comes from our new book project, “Body-Oddies,” now scheduled for publication in 2019.   -Marsha

Red State Blue State

red-state-blue-state-58-copyDemocrat?  Republican?  Who can fuckin’ tell?                                          Red state, Blue state?  Die and go to Hell!                                                    Argue ’bout it all you want, knock each other out.                                 ‘Right-Left’ bullshit ain’t what its about.

***All over the country (and especially social media) stupid people are still arguing over inane political ‘issues’.  Pull your heads out of your asses, we live in a broken, corporatized society.  It is broken on purpose.  It is the natural result of Capitalism.  It’s not about right vs. left, it’s about rich vs. poor.   We owe it to those who come after us to do more than just argue, pointlessly over ‘D’ or ‘R’ like “Good Germans”.  We owe it to them to get off our lazy asses and resist the corporate state…then get out, join a movement and rebel.  This page is from our first book, “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks.”  Find it by following the link above to www.sallemander.com.   -Marsha Mellow

She Tasted Like Blue

tasted-like-blue-57 All speckled and fuzzy, she tasted like blue                                                      with spiny black tendrils of yellowish goo.                                                         She dribbled and hissed in licorice throes                                                           and sang like a frog-apple shoved up her nose.                                               Shredded and pulpy and gnawing in heat                                                           while her farts were so pungently sweet.                                                            flailing in fancy with peppermint splashes,                                                        her mango-bat claws left slashes.                                                                             And when she was salty she prattled and leapt                                              and when she was orange she slept.                                                                        And when she was rancid, with droplets of dew,                                          she definitely tasted like blue.

***I didn’t write this drivel.  Even my artist, John, in all his bizarre idiocy couldn’t compose this kind of brilliant shat.  But, as I recall…I think it was the mutant tiger chick and her kinky prey who did it.  Well, read it again and try to find the clever hidden meaning to it – then buy my books (find them at www.sallemander.com).  John’s illustration was first licensed for use as the Jan/Feb 2009 cover for Analog Magazine, for a story by Rajnar Vajra (one of John’s favorite authors)  -Marsha

Blue-ish Freaks

Blue-ish-cover-27

Blue-ish the Clown was a dangerous Freak,                                                  not just because of his looks, so to speak;                                                   True, both his legs were mismatched and lame                                           but neither were both of his arms quite the same.                                      So he scuttled about on his one giant hand                                               which dwarfed his oversized skull, understand?                                       Those weren’t the things, though, that made him a prick.               There was something much deeper and darker and sick.                    See, Blue-ish was closeted, Christian and white                                       from the Neo-con, fascist corporate right.                                                 Need I say anything more tonight?

***This is the cover for our first amazing book…this blog is rife with pages and passages from it and our other works.  You can find our books (and buy them) by following the link above to www.sallemander.com.  -Marsha

Trousers and Clot

trousers-and-clot-53I once saw a Clown named Trousers                                                                   swallow a Juggler named Clot,                                                                               who didn’t quite like being swallowed                                                                (it was smelly inside and hot).                                                                                    So he kicked and hollered                                                                                           and squirmed and shoved                                                                                           and pushed and punched and swore,                                                                     ’till poor old Trousers burst at the seams                                                          dropping Clot (and his guts) on the floor.

***Trousers and Clot are featured in our new book, “Bludgeon the Clown.”  for all 3 of our books, follow the link above to www.sallemander.com   -Marsha

Now That He’s Dead

Now that he’s dead we can mess with his shit.                                             We can dance really loud. We can holler and spit.

We can carry him ’round. We can make him look silly,                     dressing him up in girly-girl frilly.

We can poke out his eyes. We can cut off his nose,                              twist-off and break all his fingers and toes.

Now that he’s dead we can draw on his skin,                                             give him a Clown face – a big stupid grin.

We can hang him outside for the vultures and beetles,                          shave his whole head and poke it with needles.

We can stuff him or shred him or chop him in chunks,                          then cook him and feed him to hobos and drunks.

Now that he’s dead, he’s starting to rot.                                                   Should we bury him now…or not?

But where is the joy? Where’s all the whimsy?                                   There’s plenty to do while the corpse is still flimsy.

And when he goes stiff and gives off a smell,                                              we’ll set him on fire and send him to hell.

He can’t hurt us now. It’s over and done,                                                           so now that he’s dead…..let’s have FUN!!

***This poem and image comprise the title page for ‘Chapter 6: Death,’ in our newest book, “Bludgeon the Clown” which you can find by following the link above to www.sallemander.com.  -Marsha