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 piece is slated for our “Body-Oddies” book. Its another unrevised rough concept sketch by John. While he works on the final artwork for that, I am rewriting and reworking our “Bludgeon the Clown” book so it is ready for print and sale in the spring. There are links to our books above or you can find them on Etsy and Amazon (search EEW Books)…’they make an excellent gift’ -Marsha
They came for me in the dead of night, grabbed me forcibly and shoved a black sack over my head. They took me to an undisclosed location, locked me in a room with nothing in it but a table and chair and set a plate of food in front of me. Weird. They told me I could leave…..but only if I finished everything on my plate. I wasn’t hungry.
I tried to reason with them but they ignored me. 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 any of it. It looked like it could be some kind of exotic vegetables. It certainly didn’t smell so good – like farts in a moldy sleeping bag. I resisted.
A few hours later I was famished. I took a closer look at the food. 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 would puke but had nothing to give, then it all started to stir and writhe and become agitated – it was REALLY weird (but I was sooooooo hungry).
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, ripped it apart with my teeth and ate it. I managed to round up every single piece of those awful, jabbering bits of freakish vegetables….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!!!
***Now that THAT’s over and we are well into the corporate buying frenzy marked by the high holy day of ‘Black Friday’, I can shamelessly plug my books. With all the garbage out there you COULD buy to purchase the affections of your loved ones for the year, I stand behind my books for their quality, cynicism and sheer awfulness. They make the best possible Christmas gift for those you love AND those you can’t stand. They’ll help you get laid, enhance your penis and put luster in your stringy hair while that extra ten pounds you’ve been trying to shed will come right off…but be careful, you may become more popular than you can handle. Available on Amazon and Etsy, you can find the links at www.sallemander.com. -Marsha
Stigma the Clown was a master of wit. His gift was ‘the awkward and creepy’. On the corner, at night, he’d stand (or he’d sit) upsetting the neighborhood deeply.
He wasn’t a violent, dangerous bloke, never groped or ran about naked, was never obnoxious or rude when he spoke but some people just couldn’t take it.
Just stood on the corner, creepy and proud, toying with people’s prejudice. A few of us ‘got it’ and laughed out loud but everyone else was incredulous.
“He’s a leech! He’s a thief!! He’s disturbing the peace!” “He’s exposing our kids to his DICK!!!” And once they started to call the police, things got really bad…quick.
“YOU should stay in your OWN neighborhood!” “Your kind aren’t welcome here!” And they chased him down and shot him, for good out of bigotry, hatred and fear.
Stigma continued his terrorist reign form St. Patties’ Day to Thanksgiving. Wherever he went they reacted the same, ’cause this is the ‘Merica we live in.
***I wrote this lovely little ditty to commemorate ‘The Great Clown Scare of 2016’ while John and I were at the Scranton Comic Con this weekend. We had an amazing time – as we always do. Another successful show with our two new books and orig. art prints. Now I get to hibernate for the winter while we finish our next book, “Bludgeon The Clown”. EEW Books plans to publish it in time for the spring Comic Con season. Happy Thanksgiving. -Marsha
Last Wednesday a dude walked into the bar with a REALLY long face. The barkeep looked up and grinned. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He opened his mouth to say…..but thought better of it and simply asked, “What’ll ya have, pal?”
***Everything you were afraid might happen is pretty much already happening. Your craptastic election doesn’t change much. Take a minute or two to get your shit together, then pull up your big boy pants, get off your lazy asses and come join the rest of us in the revolution. Whatever you think or believe, its time to quit your bellyaching and rise up. -Marsha
I really can’t think of a favorite place but I love the idea of flavored space, which happens to rhyme with ‘baby face’ like the horrible growth on my cheek.
I like the idea of an ‘open mic’ as long as I’m never the Mike. Exposing my guts to a crowd if you like might make some people freak.
I never accepted an open ‘Hand Shake’ though I don’t mind a hand made cake. Swallowing fingers is awful to take but easy to grasp – so to speak.
But my favorite place is up my nose where adorable ‘nose hair’ grows, which is usually better than ‘smelly toes’ ’cause its cute and fuzzy and chic.
***Lets take a little break from the national disgrace of our elections for something light and adorable and wholesome. This little ditty makes John giggle like a tickled toddler every time he reads it. He’s done rough sketches of all the ‘Body-Oddies’ it mentions so far(even though we only used ‘baby face’ for this post). Our EEWbooks Etsy store is getting some good sales and attention. Go there, fave our shop and help us get it off to a solid launch. Thanks. -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 book, ‘Bludgeon the Clown’, scheduled for publication in 2017. -Marsha
“Worse day of my life…” began the stranger at the bar, “…the day I lost my HEAD!” He stared at me oddly, chuckling. His words hung in the air for a while as I wondered who the heck this guy was and why he was chatting me up. He sounded absurd! “What?!” I asked, a little annoyed. “Yeah!” he continued, “It just tumbled off and rolled away. I couldn’t find it for a YEAR!” ‘How ridiculous’ I thought – but then, I remembered hearing about that sort of thing happening more and more these days. “I found it conjoined with some other dude’s left hand like a circus freak-show exhibit …awkward!”
I reached for my beer glass but knocked it over with the empty stump of my wrist. The stranger grinned at me and chuckled again knowingly. It seems that both my hands had quietly popped off and were crawling down the bar toward the attractive woman in the breasty, low cut blouse at the end…the one I was too shy to approach earlier. I didn’t know what they planned but I could just imagine what MY brainless hands might like to do with HER. That’s when I noticed the stranger’s collar – bolted tightly ‘round his neck. It looked positively medieval but locked his wayward head soundly to his torso. ‘How clever?!’ I thought.
The barkeep wiped up my spilled beer with a lovely pair of shapely, ladies arms –which did NOT match the rest of his otherwise burly, tattooed frame. He caught me staring but shrugged and nodded me in the direction of my hands as they broke into a run…..while the woman’s breasts leapt out of her blouse and took off in opposite directions.
***John did this image for our new book, “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks” which is available now, just follow the link above to www.sallemander.com. -Marsha
***Our new book is finally out and available for sale at; www.sallemander.com (just use the link at the upper right). Its also been a while since we posted a decent (horrible) Clown poem, so… -Marsha
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?