Stop complaining! Stop protesting! You have your rights but don’t really need ’em. We are the government. We’re in control. This is American freedom. Anarchists, Hippies and Clowns, beware. We have the guns. We know what’s best. If you make our corporate bankers upset we’ll pummel you under arrest.
***This week’s image is a page from our first book, “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks”. Buy it. find it by following the link above to www.sallemander.com. -Marsha
Billy O’Banion had to be the ugliest man alive. He was monstrous to look at – an absolute fright – and there was no hiding it.
Some liked to speculate that his father was a mutant clone or an alien invader. There was even a vicious rumor that his mother took a demon into her bed. Really though, the O’Banions were perfectly respectable. In fact, Billy’s birth was completely normal and he had a decent, happy childhood. He’d never succumbed to any horrible illness or accident and was never bitten by an irradiated lab rat. He simply started getting ugly at some point in his twenties, and kept getting uglier and uglier with each passing day. He was an inexplicable freak of nature…an awful, tragic figure…..how sad!?
The funny thing about Billy, however, is that he was perfectly okay with his predicament. He took it all in stride and made lemonade out of the rotten tomatoes he was dealt. He figured he was a cross between Darth Maul and a Gothic dragon…cool! See, Billy had an outrageous sense of humor which dwarfed his ugliness. He was a clever practical joker and filled his days with gigantic gobs of fun.
Nothing tickled his tendrils more than slipping quietly into a mob on the street, disguised in a hoodie…only to burst out suddenly, flashing his most charming grin, yelling “Surprise!!!” He could barely contain the giggles as they screamed, shat themselves and fainted (usually in that order). It never got old. He could clear a fast food joint or a movie theatre in seconds and never had trouble getting a good seat.
For a while, he made piles of money in the Mexican masked wrestling circuit but eventually retired on a generous pension provided by several New Jersey towns – “to stay the hell away!” These days, he lives quietly in a posh Hoboken penthouse where he writes creepy clown poetry and practices his banjo…but still gets a kick out of scaring the bajeebies out of solicitors, delivery boys and trick-or-treaters. He likes to leap out of the elevator and gobble them down whole. Oh, don’t worry, he craps them out onto the carpet an hour later…completely unharmed (at least physically), after all, he always was a vegetarian.
***I wrote this in our weekly, Saturday morning ‘Montclair Write Group’ free-write workshop with John’s horrible self portrait as the prompt. It’s good practice, good exercise and good inspiration. John’s image was originally published in a 2010 issue of Analog Magazine. We have 3 books available for sale, you can find them by following the link above to: www.sallemander.com -Marsha
Paranoia Smith was the most exhausting, obnoxious, insufferable, skate-punk, tattooed, cross dressing poseur I ever met at a book festival. 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. 
He 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 just bought a copy of my ridiculous new book, “Bludgeon the Clown” and I love him for it. I think 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 and I brought our new book out to sell at the Gaithersburg Book Festival in Maryland last weekend. It rained…but it was brilliant. We met so many talented, decent, cool people – and artists – and vendors…What a great time – and you would not believe how many books we sold (my mother told me we should have brought more…). Wish you were there. -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
Jack the Jester lived in a box ’cause he had no legs or feet and liked popping out of his box -SURPRISE!! -to frighten the children…NEAT! He loved young children most of all, so innocent, kind and sweet. The crunchier ones always tasted best but the chubby ones had more meat.
***This is “Jack in the Box,” an image and rhyme from my first book, “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks,” find it and buy it at www.sallemander.com. -Marsha
There once was a Clown who fell in his glass who went by the name of Mulligan. He drank it all down before he passed… but when he woke up it was full again.
***The thing to understand about Clowns here, is that they can transmute their body fluids. I met one fellow who could drink lemonade and piss grape soda. Another Clown turned red wine into pure maple syrup. Some can do different flavors depending on their mood. Mulligan usually pissed single malt whiskey when he was feeling sassy but could only manage a weak mimosa when he was glum. Clowns are SO fascinating… I even saw one cheeky freak squeeze cherry ice cubes from vodka…OUCH!!! This is a page from my first book, “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks.” Follow the links above to www.sallemander.com…and buy it! -Marsha
I once had a Jester named Niggle ooze from my nostril and wiggle. With a grunt and a hack, I snorted him back but he dribbled back out with a giggle.
***This extraordinary piece of highbrow literature is featured in my new book, “Bludgeon the Clown” on sale now (follow the link above to www.sallemander.com). I don’t actually remember writing this horrible little rhyme (though it amuses the hell out of John…), but Niggle was a little jerk who made a runny, sniffly nuisance of himself on a ten hour flight to Dusseldorf – with no tissues. When I finally managed to snag him on a fingernail I took immense pleasure in kneading him between two fingers until he dried up and stopped screaming. He is now a permanent smear in the booger graveyard under seat #22F on flight 1134. -Marsha
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 posted this to celebrate another amazing show this past weekend…my first of 2018, at the NJ Horror Con and Film Fest. HOORAY!!! It would have been perfect if I made any money…and if all the vendors weren’t illegally searched (without probable cause) and harassed by the NJ Dept. of Revenue – before any of us were allowed to enter the show. It was all an intimidation/scare tactic for a bunch of pussy tax cops who had full access to a list of prepaid vendors long before the show opening. And it was all facilitated by the convention’s organizers/owners. It’s really not a matter of whether I participate in future shows with those people — it’s about whether I include them in the legal action that follows. I no longer tolerate being bullied. -Marsha