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.

Primal Urge

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I love brains!…LOVE them.  Can’t remember why I ever ate anything else…ever.  I vaguely remember being bitten, I think there were six of them.  They ripped out my stomach and organs as I turned…..then I joined in…and I tasted pretty good – but not as good as brains.

I don’t talk much any more, nobody in my group does.  It’s okay, I never was much of a conversationalist…and most folks seem too afraid of me to chat, anyway.  They run away screaming a lot or try to stab me in the head with sharp stuff… I never liked most people that much, so it doesn’t really hurt my feelings.  Their brains, though…ooooooohhh, nice!  Better than goose liver pâté and double fudge brownies.

I saw my own reflection yesterday, I’m looking pretty rugged.  I’ve really slimmed down without my guts…finally lost that extra thirty pounds.  And my skin, well…a mottled blue-ish grey with black streaks – reminds me of camouflage, my favorite color.  But oooooohh, the brains…did I tell you how good those are?  I highly recommend them.  Ooooooom!  Ughhh!!  Brains!!!  I love the brains.  Ummmmmm…I can’t remember why I ever ate anything else…ever.  I vaguely remember being bitten, I think there were six of them.  They ripped out my stomach……

***I’m obligated (by John, my illustrator) to mention that the image for this post is an “unrevised original rough sketch” and below his normal standard of quality.  I actually LIKE this one…but its also a crap-load of fun watching John have an OCD hissy-bitch fit over his stupid etchings.  I’m a big fan of zombies, even the bad ones are beautiful.  -Marsha

Comic Con

Paranoia Smith was the most exhausting, obnoxious, insufferable, skate-punk, tattooed, cross dressing poseur I ever met at a Comic Con.  Within a minute in this lunatic’s presence I wanted to rip off his head and crap down his neck.  He babbled incessantly (when he wasn’t ‘rapping’ or screeching heavy metal lyrics) and his fake blonde goatee and dreadlocks smelled like a port-a-potty.  He was one of those touchy-feely dudes who never let up.  Comic-Con-image-30He had a finger puppet named Yak Feces who insisted on probing all of my facial orifices.  And he simply could not convey any of his incomplete ‘ideas’ from a distance further than an inch from my nose with breath like the putrid steam at the edge of a volcano.  He was a wild eyed maniac with no self control….actually dribbled chaw juice on my shoe, then apologized as he hosed it off with urine…..

BUT, he bought one of my ridiculous ‘Blue-ish Freaks’ books just now and I love him for it.  We could be brothers.

Oh no! Next in line was Lisa, an enormous middle aged woman in a teeny-tiny Sailor Moon costume with bits bulging from under her adorable skirt that I didn’t know women even had.  I think her blue hair was her real hair.  “Could you sign mine?” she croaked like Jabba the Hut…and I was grinning (as she pulled out exact change) too horrified to look away from…this beautiful, elegant creature who loves my book.  I could have married her on the spot.

Next in line is…oh, sweet Jesus…..

***John brought our new book out to sell at the Philadelphia Comic Con last weekend.  It was brilliant.  He met so many talented, decent, cool people and artists and vendors…What a great time – and you would not believe how many books he sold (my mother told me we should have brought more…).  Wish I had been there.  -Marsha

 

 

Lester the Jester

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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.”

***This piece, from our new book, “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks”, is the one we chose as the backdrop/banner for our comicon table.  Come see us at our first show at The Great Philadelphia Comic Con, on April 22-24.  If you’re not in the area, please visit our website (link at top of page);  www.sallemander.com  -Marsha 

Labyrinth

Labyrinth-28      His dreams were frantic.  She was always just-out-of-reach and each time he caught a glimpse, she was further away than before as he chased her through the labyrinth of his anxiety.  He KNEW he was only dreaming…  he KNEW she lay right next to him, asleep…but he could neither escape any more than catch up to her.  And as his heart broke apart and crumbled to pieces for the one he had loved unconditionally, he realized that these pathetic dreams were better than his reality.  This was all he had left, so he relished in the chase each night…..for just one more night…and tried to remember all the good things they’d had for a few precious moments more…before she faded completely, leaving him alone in the labyrinth.

***Our poor friend Balthazar lost his cat recently…well, she’s not missing – we’re not out searching or anything – I mean, he had a falling out with his precious Miss Fuzzy Britches a few weeks ago and hasn’t been able to patch things up.  I wrote this little piece for them…though I don’t hold out much hope.  Meanwhile, Our new book is out.  Its beautiful and awful and available by following the link at the top/right to our site;  www.sallemander.com .  -Marsha

Blue-ish Freaks

Blue-ish-cover-27 ***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?

Peek-a Boo

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I had a good breath diving under…good for at least 3 minutes.          50 yards out from the dock, I went down deep, about 35 feet and counting. The fish were strange today. They weren’t acting right. Just my instinct but…they seemed to crowd me instead of scattering at my approach. Pensive.

Weeds were thick but I didn’t mind. I liked swimming through them, like parting curtains…..until I saw the eyes – big eyes – cunning eyes. They were staring back at me with unnerving intelligence and all the little fish were darting about frantically – and I nearly lost my breath.

Through the gloom, I began to make out the long, hulking form behind the eyes; Strange limbs, sharp fins, long feelers, fleshy lips with menacing barbs, monstrous teeth…..smiling at me?

Now I was afraid! In one swift motion my hand swept down to draw my knife from its ankle sheath – but lightning fast, the creature’s arm shot out from between the weeds and wrapped its long scaly fingers around my throat – my jaw – my entire skull.

I lost my air…and then, lost consciousness.

I woke up. I was breathing. I started to remember…..I was swimming through weeds – fish acting oddly – then the eyes…and a massive claw, engulfing my head. As it all went dark I thought I heard a sinister, gurgling: “Peek-a-boo!”

I was inside now. It was stifling and it smelled like cat food mixed with burning tires. I sat up in a lumpy soup of viscous bile and big bloody chunks of meat. My hands and face burned but my wet suit protected the rest of my skin. A sphincter opened behind me and sucked me along with my steaming meat-soup down a tube, whose bulbous nodules bathed us in a spray of acid. It stripped the fur and skin from the meat and dissolved my hair and a painful layer of exposed skin.

I dropped into a bony chamber in which long, razor sharp blades shredded the meat into hamburger (along with most of my wetsuit). I was quickly evacuated into another chamber which flooded with thousands of tiny, finger sized worms (with very sharp teeth), who consumed every speck of the remaining meat sludge before I alone, the inedible lump, was expelled once more, through slimy bowels, into a vat of solid waste.

This wondrous fleshy sack looked and smelled like the inside of a rotting, bloated elephant carcass. Minutes passed, possibly hours, while a steady stream of sticky, gloppy gunk filled the space, until there was no more room…this was the end. With goop filling my ears and covering my mouth, I took my last solid breath of air (a three minute breath?) before black sludge covered and consumed me. One minute…two minutes…nearly three minutes passed before I felt a great shuddering shift, followed by a resounding (satisfied) grunt….and I was suddenly shot, like a torpedo, out into clean lake water.

I surfaced near the shoreline, gasping for air. Although I emerged from the lake a raw, tattered and thoroughly disgruntled piece of fish poop…I was alive. It was, perhaps, not my greatest adventure but surely a ‘fantastic journey.’

 

***The only thing better than a giant fish swallowing a dude and crapping him back out is doing the same thing to a great old Asimov concept (like I did here).  Aaaaah, fish poop!…one of the great mysteries of life.  ‘Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks’ is nearly ready…e-mail me for advanced copies. -Marsha

Its All Speculation

Angry Rash-25      Herbert had been prone to rashes since he was a kid.  He caught them all, like a rash magnet…it was inexplicable.  He had at least three rashes on any given day of his life.  As a sickly nerd, he never had friends…..so how the heck did he get chicken pox?  He never had sex, so where did he get crabs?  Hell, he had rashes no one ever heard of.  He was a spotty, itchy, miserable pariah (though he was a delight to his dermatologist).

Anyway, when the ‘Speckles’ showed up, Herbert was neither surprised nor alarmed…but when they became an infestation, weird stuff started happening.  All his old rashes now had a rash of their own.  The Speckles definitely did not respect other rashes’ turf.  His chicken pox grew feathers and beaks, his goose bumps grew long necks and started nipping and spitting at other rashes and his scarlet fever?…WOW!… well…lets just say that when she reached puberty…things got REALLY awkward.

The Speckles went on to occupy every inch of Herbert and ousted all his other rashes – which would have been good except that each Speckle became enormous, grew a face and took on a personality of its own.  They started talking amongst themselves – argued with each other constantly (about religion and politics, ugh!)  and sang bawdy songs at all hours.  It made things quite uncomfortable for Herbert, though not as bad as the realization that they’d become stronger, smarter and cooler than him.  It wasn’t long before Herbert diminished completely into the shadow of his own brilliant speculations…

***Oh, how this reminds me of my teenage years…though my speckles were quite amiable and we were into the same music.  Meanwhile, my new book, “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks” is nearly ready for release, probably next week but if f you want to buy an advanced copy, leave me a message here…  -Marsha

Too Many Cooks in the Kitchen

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Food was scarce.  People were struggling.  The war was taking it’s toll as there were shortages of everything from fuel to toilet paper to empathy.  Rationing was severe and people were showing signs of stress.  There was unemployment, hunger and daily violent protests against the government who caused this blowback war after decades of capitalist conquest.  There was no sign of improvement on the horizon and…..food was scarce.

Leon’s Bar and Grill, however, seemed to be an exception to the misery. Leon, the proprietor, had a brilliant (desperate) idea a few months back when he realized he had too many cooks in the kitchen and not enough food to serve.  Seeing his business on the brink of failure, he did the only logical thing;  He ‘fired’ all his cooks and took over in the kitchen personally.  He posted a new menu featuring ‘Chef’s specials’ like Chef’s Stew, Chef Pot Pie and Roasted Leg of Chef.  He fired them all… in the big convection oven (though a few got deep fried, stewed…or grilled…..and one guy got sautéed in a wok) and his business has been thriving ever since.

Funny thing, though…once he solved his cook problem, he settled an old issue with that annoying waitress, Marge and finally took care of that pesky neighborhood Clown who always annoyed his customers as they came and went.

These days, ‘Leon’s’ is the only establishment in town with a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the window…and I hear the food’s really good.

***We thought a little cannibalism this week would be a welcome break from what has become the norm in America;  Illegal war, torture, kidnapping, rape, assassination, terrorism, corruption,  usury, inequality and a massive political freak show.  Hmmmm…..eating people’s got nothin’ on the U.S. gov’t. – so, bon appetit!  -Marsha

 

Loser!!!

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I won!  I am the richest man on Earth.  I have more money than God!  I’m not just the richest, though…I’m the winner!  I am the inevitable culmination of centuries of unregulated capitalism.  I own everything;  All the money, all the gold, all the oil, the water, infrastructure, stocks, bonds, real estate – EVERYTHING!

The entire population of Earth, all 7 million, are my employees and tenants.  Wait…did I say 7 million?  No, there’s only 5.8 million as of this week…heck, I remember when there were 7 billion…but never mind that, they’re just little people.  Losers!  I won and they lost.

Too bad for them.  Is it my fault they were born poor and unlucky, that they made bad life decisions, were unable to afford the finest education money could buy and had no inherited wealth with which to game the system?  If God didn’t favor me he would not have made me so rich.  That’s what makes me so much better than you.

The only question now is…What to do with it all?  My only goal was to win…now what?  I own ten thousand fishing yachts but the oceans are dead.  I used to like the beach but they’re polluted now and storms have destroyed all the coastal cities.  I used to hunt but there’s no wildlife, no more forests, either.  Everything is desert and all the clouds are gone and I burn so easily…

But never mind all that…..I’m the winner!  It must have been worth it, because I WON!!!  I’m richer than you.  I’m better than you and I won!  So piss off!!…..and bring me a fresh canister of air! (gasp)  I’m friggin’ suffocating over here…LOSER!!!

***This is NOT about Trump!  It has nothing to do with our freak show elections and we don’t take sides, anyway (although, the corporate dude riding Uncle Sam like a bitch DOES look more like Hillary than Trump).  This isn’t even a political website!  It was simply the scheduled date for this story and image.  Is it our fault that all the candidates piled into a mini-Clown Car and crashed it straight into the gaping ass of an elephant?  -Marsha

Belly Button

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Toby had a belly button…a freakish big red one right in the center…and he was threatening to use it, too.  He showed up at the White House during a political fundraiser demanding an audience and got laughed out of the place.  Fox News picked up on the incident and made a giant “News Alert” stink, convincing their entire dull eyed, drooling American television audience that he was legit – and that he’d press the button and unleash the demons of nuclear hell (or whatever) if they didn’t do what he said.

Well, that was it.  The world ended as we knew it (and it really backfired on Fox who figured he was their puppet).  Toby brought an end to all wars and banned usury (which pretty much ruined capitalism).  He stopped fossil fuel use and forced everybody to respect the environment…and that was just for starters.  And every time he rested his pudgy finger on that big red button, the world went into a panic.  He bullied everybody on Earth into being….. better…OR ELSE!!!

Huh!  Wish I had thought of that.

***Is Toby a terrorist?  Yeah, technically.  Is he a “bad guy”?  Well, not in two paragraphs…but power goes hand in hand with corruption and tyranny, so it’ll get there eventually…it always does.  On a happier note, we have advance copies of our new book “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks”.  We’re already selling them to friends, let us know if you’re interested and can’t wait for the new website (w/ paypal) to get one.  -Marsha