Tag Archives: clowns

Pandora

Zig-Zag the Clown has a wonderful wife,                                                          the kindest, most generous partner for life.                                                She’s slender and lovely and cooks like a saint,                                            the perfect companion without a complaint…                                        Except when he comes home at quarter to four,                              smelling of booze and the funk of a whore!                                              That’s when Pandora, his wife, has a FIT!                                                    …and her perfect composure slips, just a bit.

***This rough drawing of Pandora is featured as a finished, full page, full color illustration in our book, “Bludgeon the Clown.”  Find it, filled with over 100 other illustrations (most of which you will NOT find here or anywhere online) at www.sallemander.com.   -Marsha

***I revised the image for this post to the final art, so only people who come to this blog can see it.  We only post a limited amount of art and material from each book (15-20%) so the people who buy them get the privilege of exclusive original material.  We’re not concerned about going a little over the limit here because hardly anybody visits and blogs are pretty much obsolete anyway.  -Marsha

Bludgeon the Clown

Bludgeon the Clown was shit-faced-stoned,                                                surly, loose and frisky,                                                                                              barely able to handle his car                                                                                      on crack cocaine and whiskey.                                                                    Bludgeon was stopped by the cops that night                                              and battered under arrest,                                                                                          for jerking too much as the tazers hit                                                                  and sobbing in fierce protest.

***Here is the original rough sketch for Bludgeon, published as a 2 page spread on page 28 & 29 of our first book, “Blue-ish Freaks.”  As John the illustrator always says, “It’s not art if it doesn’t piss somebody off!”…and this one definitely does.  Find this and the rest of our books at www.sallemander.com (follow the links).   -Marsha

The Buttox Brothers

The Buttox Brothers were unlucky chaps                                                      who answered to Rupert and Rory.                                                                  Don’t ask me how they got this way,                                                                    it’s a REALLY disgusting story…                                                                                  but wait ’till you hear how we got ’em apart.                                                      It was bloody …and smelly …and gory.

***This is the rough sketch for an illustration from our third book, “Bludgeon the Clown.”  Since shitty rough sketches seem to be working out so well, and will play an important part in our next book, here’s a step back to some cool older work.  If you ever want to see the final art for this sketch,  follow the links and buy the friggin’ book!  I only ever post about 15% of the art from any book project on social media so people who BUY my stuff get exclusive, original material.   -Marsha

Spindle the Clown

Spindle the Clown was really old, so he went to Miami for rest          but drank more vodka than he could hold and collapsed with a pain in his chest.

He died that night in his hotel suit but not before fouling his shorts and hurling his lunch from his chest to his feet in retching, heaving, snorts.

Nobody knew he was there, by chance, having very few friends, to be sure, and his room was paid for the month in advance with “DO NOT DISTURB!” on the door.

So his body sat in the heat to bloat and his organs turned to soup and flies laid eggs in his nose and throat and beetles infested his poop.

Rats and roaches came up through the shower, the odors were pungent and fresh and feasted on Spindle for 93 hours, stripping his bones of flesh.

When housekeeping finally entered the room, hardly a crumb remained. Spindle the Clown was completely gone, except for his creepy brain.

***We met Spindle the Clown a few years ago while researching death rituals among the Clown species.  We spent a week  documenting his demise – only to witness him defy death in the end.  Sadly, his brain grew up to be a corporate banker…..very tragic.  John insisted that we use this image for our first post (back in Oct., 2015) for some strange symbolism that only idiotic artists understand.  Spindle was featured in our first book, “Blue-ish Freaks” which you can follow the links to find and buy.       -Marsha

Baby Sitter

At first we thought all the babies blew up.                                                   We found them that way in the morning.                                             They’d suddenly grown to enormous size!                                                  We had no idea…no warning.

Well, people freaked out.  They lost their minds,                                   (and some of us got really drunk),                                                                     but didn’t take TOO long to understand,                                                    that THEY didn’t grow…..WE SHRUNK!!!

Santa Claws

Santa Claws ALWAYS loved children.                                                               He loved when they sat on his lap,                                                                   and always invited his favorite to lunch                                                     with a snip and a snickety snap!                                                                          He loved them with soup, loved them with rice                                     and sautéed with wine was fun.                                                                           He loved them roasted in gravy and yams                                                      or with mustard and cheese on a bun.

***Happy Christmas!!!  I hope your silly capitalist buying frenzy went swell.  When you’ve gotten your blood sugar back down and finished all your frivolous boxing and returns – and have some extra cash again – pop by our Etsy shop (go to etsy.com and search EEWbooks) for some gifts you’ll never WANT to return.   -Marsha

Badger

CLOWNS ARE REPULSIVE

Knob Noster, Missouri.  There is no doubt that Badger the Clown was an obnoxious, bile-inducing weenie.  That’s not an uncommon talent for a clown.  No, Badger’s unique gift was being repulsive.  I mean, he was impossible to touch – like trying to connect two positive-ended magnets.  No matter how big an object it was or how fast you threw, it veered away from him…uncanny!  He once stood stock still to let John smash a tomato on his head, point blank…and he still missed.  Badger laughed so hard he wet himself (but not a drop touched him).

***Taking another break from posting pages from our NEW book…to post one from our third book, “Bludgeon the Clown,” which is still quite brilliant and can be found, along with all three of our other books and stuff by following the link above to www.sallemander.com or go straight to our Etsy shop and search EEWbooks.   -Marsha

Zebulon the Wizard

Quite puzzled now, he scoured the pages of the old wizard’s tiny journal, searching for something that might explain why his cauldron had just opened, on it’s own, without the spoken enchantment…..he didn’t even notice the pistol pointing up into his face until the voice behind it said, “Give it back, boy!… Give it back NAOW!!!…Ya yella-bellied VARMINT!!”

He called himself Zebulon the Wizard, but his real name was Ralph…and he was a thief.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, he was a really good thief who came from a long line of renowned thieves.  There was no shame in it.  Thievery was a respectable occupation in the old country, which had carried over when his family emigrated here.  But like so many young people nowadays, Ralph found himself falling short of his forefathers’ success.

Old family connections no longer guaranteed respect and a spot on a crack team of cat burglars – or elicit seed money from the mob for a grand heist.  Even the intelligence community ( the biggest employer of thieves in the world) had marginalized new hires into dull college-educated analysts.  So, Ralph was relegated to common pick-pocketing on the street, just to pay the bills.

As it so often happens (in old TV shows), Ralph found the solution to all his problems…in church.  He could always find an easy mark among the rich overdressed hypocrites on a Sunday morning, but it wasn’t until the post-service meet and greet that he was able to lift a nice fat purse from the breast pocket of – none other than – the Holy Roman Cardinal: the biggest, richest muckety-muck of them all.  What a lucky break!!!

How disappointing to find, later, that it was nothing more than a dusty old, hand-written journal…in Latin (of all things).  Ugh!!  Ralph hated Latin!  The kids in school used to tease him for sounding like a drunk Ukrainian whenever he read it out loud.

But, on closer inspection, he discovered that the book was one of those rare mystical Vatican treasures, meant to be locked away and never, ever studied (lest it disprove the church’s fairy tales…or destroy the world).  Upon reading it – and understanding it – Ralph realized he’d hit the jackpot!

The book, written by the fictional wizard, Merlin, was an instruction manual for creating a stable quantum portal, i.e., a gateway allowing him to traverse enormous distances…even time itself.  Cooool!  And if Ralph’s understanding of Latin was better than he thought, his alchemy was even better.

It only took a few weeks to beg, barter, and steal all the exotic elements and artifacts he would need.  Some were quite rare and most still had archaic names like “saltpeter.”  Who knew potassium nitrate used to be called saltpeter?…or that the chemical makeup of modern gunpowder is totally different than the black powder developed around ninth century China?

As well, Ralph found that the key to the entire project was in the spoken enchantments.  Merlin’s overall recipe was pretty straight forward chemistry…but say the right Latin gibberish, in the right tone of voice (standing on one foot with a feather up your bum), and the common reaction you’d get combining bleach and ammonia might produce an adorable plaid bunny, instead of just…a cloud of poison chlorine gas.  There was, needless to say, a good deal of trial and error (and even more tedious research) involved.

In the end, Ralph built what he called a “time cauldron” and had only to decide what he wanted to steal, from whom…and when.  He hit the books again, compiling an elaborate list of fabulous lost treasures, along with their exact locations, on specific historic dates.  But when he activated the cauldron, he was not thinking (as he should have) of the Palace of Versailles, June 15th, 1811… he was thinking of his personal hero, the greatest thief in history.

The portal opened in Missouri, April 3rd, 1882, and he was staring at a rather stunned…Jesse James.  As quick as a thief (which he was), Ralph reached in and grabbed an elaborately decorated six-gun tucked into the front of James’ belt, then closed the time portal before his outraged hero could react.

“Jesse James!” he grinned.  “How cool was that!!!?”  He laughed, very pleased with himself.

Within a year, Ralph had a warehouse full of treasures from throughout history and changed his name to Zebulon.  He was surely (and literally) the greatest thief of all time, and having encountered his older self numerous times over the next fifty years, was sure he had a bright, healthy future…

…So it puzzled him even more to find his hero, Jesse James, waving an anxious six-gun in his face…through HIS own cauldron.  How the heck did this happen?  It was still April 3rd, 1882; shouldn’t he be dead by now?

Jesse poked Ralph in the nose with the barrel.  “I want ma gun back.  I want it naow…” he stopped to pull back the hammer (very menacing), “or I’ll blow yer dang head off, boy!”  He seemed pretty pissed off.

Ralph could have crapped a brick in his fancy wizard pantaloons trying to remember where he put that pistol.  But his sweeping gaze landed on a brilliant (desperate) solution.  “I might have something better…” he said as he handed Jesse James a brand new solar-powered fully automatic plasma laser assault rifle (with pump-action grenade launcher), which he will have lifted, five years from now, off an elite storm trooper of the fifth battalion of Grand Emperor Trump’s intrepid Space Force.

Well…Jesse was giddy as a June bug in sassafras underbritches – or some such Missouri thing…and with his solemn vow (as an honest thief) to destroy the weapon after today’s gunfight, Jesse James closed the portal, none the worse for wear.

Naturally, Ralph was pretty impressed with himself for his quick wit and elegant solution to the mess he’d made…and what could possibly go wrong with handing an advanced weapon of mass destruction from the year 2024, to a gunslinger from 1882 on his death day…?

***Well, this is one of the few really long stories in our new book, “A Short Burst,” it’s a whopping two pages.  It’s one of John’s favorites because it straddles the weird, squiggly border between sci-fi and fantasy.  The original image, published in the April, 2007 issue of Analog Magazine was used as the title page of ‘Burst’ (the one above is the revised version).  You can find all our books and stuff at our Etsy shop.  Etsy.com (search EEWbooks) or just follow the link on our website (which will also bring you to Etsy).  -Marsha    

Clown Parts

     Clowns Are Nuts and leave them in gooey, nasty, sacks everywhere they go.  Clowns shed nuts faster than toenails, which survive infancy more often than those spawned in poop, booger, zit, earwax, sweat, spit and severing.  The hardiest of the species seem to come from the squashy, croquet-ball-sized nut, laid like an egg by an infected gazelle.  People who find them often feel compelled to decorate them like fancy easter eggs.  Some folks mistake them for gob-stoppers.

Clowns who leave their severed parts lying about often discover an unexpected bundle of joy.  They know they can re-grow missing bits but forget that their parts can also regenerate.  Sometimes they grow to be identical twins……or worse.

I’m reminded of a secret experiment conducted by the government, about a decade ago in Yonkers, in which clown parts were surgically transplanted onto human subjects (volunteer convicts) to test their possible military applications.

It all went bad from the outset.  Each of the dissected clowns expired as soon as his various nose, hands or wiener was removed but worse, all thirteen human (victims) recipients went immediately bonkers, breaking out of their holding pens in a fiendish dancing frenzy.  Most didn’t survive the week, gorging themselves on fast food,

***These are the elements that comprise page 39 of our brilliant book, “Bludgeon the Clown.”  Everything in it is absolutely true and exhaustively researched.  All our books can be found (to buy) at www.sallemander.com.   -Marsha 

Bladder the Clown

Bladder the Clown had really bad aim,                                                              though he did his best to foil it,                                                                              the bottle of booze he guzzled each day                                                            would give him the shakes and spoil it.                                                            He tried once or twice                                                                                                  to widen his stance                                                                                                       and hold his dick really tight,                                                                                    but doused his shoes                                                                                                      and sprinkled his pants                                                                                                    and still couldn’t hit the toilet.

***We’re breaking all the rules this week by posting a political one.  Yeah!  This one’s political, specially picked for early July.  What…you don’t get it?  That’s okay, its a tricky one.  Leave me an angry comment if you get it.  I hope you didn’t blow your friggin’ hands off playing with fireworks.  This is an image and poem that didn’t make it into “Bludgeon the Clown”…so this is probably the last time you’ll ever see it.  Farewell Bladder.  -Marsha