They were big and beefy and incredibly strong. They were aggressive, poking their weapons everywhere and they smelled like belligerent fear as they shouted and snarled. They had plate armor like insects but were pasty and bony underneath with beady eyes and a ridiculous tuft of hair on their tiny heads – like hand puppets. They were most definitely …ALIEN!
When they landed their starship in my back yard and demanded; “Take me to your leader!” I was so stunned – so baffled that I froze and just blinked at them. Their exasperated captain tried again; “Where are your leaders?!” sneering with contempt, as if I was a child. I simply shrugged and said, “Search me…”
Now…I don’t know if they misunderstood me or just had a REALLY strange sense of humor…..but being held down in a medical lab with a gnarly probe approaching my buttocks is taking things waaaaaay too literally. These humans area nasty bunch.
***This story reminds me of my last colonoscopy…And can anybody explain what the deal is with Aliens and anal probes? They’re almost as bad as the CIA (at least Aliens ask intelligent questions). This was the (lucky) 13th cover John did for the Jan/Feb 2015 issue of Analog Magazine. You won’t find this image in any of our 3 current books but you can find our books by following the links to www.sallemander.com and our Etsy shop. -Marsha
We never spoke about Uncle Dixon. Our whole family tip-toed around the subject…but I could tell there were powerful feelings just under everybody’s skin. He was a horrible pariah. The black sheep of the family.
We kept him straight-jacketed in one of the padded cells in the catacombs below our cabin. He was never allowed out in the light of day (lest one of the neighbors spot him), only after midnight on stormy nights and always tightly chained, gagged and bound in one of those psycho metal hockey mask get-ups. He got wheeled around in a steel cage on a hand truck under constant, heavily armed guard.
As if that wasn’t bad enough…Uncle Dixon was never allowed to go wilding with the rest of the family, never allowed to invade homes, to rape and burn and shoot folks in the face with shotguns or dismember them with his best machete before skinning and roasting them on the Bar-B-Que for the family feast…..how sad and dull.
I felt bad for him. What possible meaning could his life have? I always wondered what awful thing he could have done to deserve such treatment – until I overheard Pappa Ripper telling old cousin Head-Stomper that Dixon was a pacifist, an atheist and… a vegetarian (whatever that was). He also said that he had NEVER murdered a baby in his whole life – actually refused to do it!!! Eeeeew! What a Freak!?!
***Every family has at least one crazy relative that makes Thanksgiving an unforgettable event, rivaling any ten episodes of The Jerry Springer Show….and worth 6 months of therapy. I think my illustrator, John, serves that role in his family. John’s illustration is from our new book, ‘Bludgeon the Clown.’ You need this book. It explains EVERYTHING! Find it at www.sallemander.com (links above) -Marsha
“Ohhh…its not so bad.” his wife told him with thinly veiled sarcasm. “You look absolutely delicious…..!” she smiled sardonically. But it was a hot summer day and he was melting on the spot. He wouldn’t last much longer.
Billy was so intent on pleasing his estranged wife (poor henpecked bastard) that he took her desire for an ice cream sundae too far and transmogrified himself into one, without considering the consequences. And still, as he slowly disintegrated into a sweet soupy mess, she would not favor him with her attentions – except to say, “Ugh! You know I don’t like pistachio…..!”
***The image is another piece from our new book, “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks”. You can find it here at www.sallemander.com (or follow the link above). The story…is based on actual events. -Marsha
Lester the Jester threw up his supper, emerging instead as a fool named Skupper who gagged on his guts as they spilled from his gob expelling another named Bob, who horked up a loogie of phlegm and bile, appearing at last as a Jester named Lyle who turned to his mates and stuck out his tongue saying, “Better off here… than out Lester’s bung.”
***He must have eaten something funny. This is from our new book, “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks.” Buy the book. It will transform your life. Visit our website (find the link at the top of the page); www.sallemander.com -Marsha
***Of course, we’ve been friends with Santa Clause since we were kids and got a great interview with him for our “Bludgeon the Clown” book (although the publisher cut it in the final edit). Still, we were surprised when he showed up on Thanksgiving for a free meal (and this guy can really stack and pack it). But he REALLY stunned us with a whopping order of all 3 of our new books. He mentioned (mumbled) something like “…can’t use COAL in naughty peoples stockings any more ’cause it’s TOXIC…so…..ho, ho, ho!” Well, fantastic! He loves it! You should get one too. -Marsha