Tag Archives: freaks

Potty Mouth

Something in the smell wafting from the bathroom told me that things were going badly.  The crap being shouted was definitely not appropriate for television.  Negotiations had broken down and a strike was well underway.  Worse, the strikers were in open revolt,  flinging their sacred deposits all over the walls and ceiling.  The trust between us was broken.  Innocents were soiled, and who knew if the scars would ever heal, but all that was secondary to the fact that…I  had to go.  I REALLY had to go — BAD!

Shamefully, and in typical corporate fashion, I snuck out to the back yard, found a tree and used it like the primitive monkey I was.  Disgusting.  Yes, I’d found a cheap scab replacement to the striking toilet — but I just couldn’t hold out any longer…ugh!  I felt dirty.

I say, give the strikers whatever they demand before this gets any worse and we have a REAL shit storm on our hands…our shoes… our trousers…..

***Another raw, rough-sketch teaser from our new book, “Body-Oddies”, which will be our 5th.  John is finishing the illustrations and arrangement/design while I finish the writing (for a May release).  After that, we’ll be off travelling around the country on tour, attending book fests, comic cons and sci-fi cons to peddle our wares like medieval hucksters, bringing literary joy to our impoverished country.  Find us on Etsy.com by searching EEWbooks when you get there.   -Marsha

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

Complicit in his Own Death

Henry Higgenbottom had an amazing talent. Welllll, maybe not so amazing as, lets say, ‘quirky’.  You see, Henry could “headstand”.  Yeah,  not so amazing…but since nobody else could ever do it quite like him, it kinda became his ‘thing’.  And despite all practical advice. he ‘did’ the crap out of his ‘thing’.  He became a minor local celebrity (oddity), got his fifteen minutes of fame on the T.V. news and bartered that into a stint on the state carnival circuit which propelled him into a pretty good gig with a circus sideshow troupe as a ‘Tumbling Contortionist’.  All things considered, however, his convulsive hiccuping act usually stole the spotlight (and all the laughs) and made his ‘headstand’ gimmick look pretty dull.  But Henry never gave up on it.  It was his own unique gift to the world, a sacred piece of his very soul and he made sure it was part of every show he did…..until one day he accidentally mixed his hiccups with his ‘headstand’ and SO disrupted his specially balanced stance that he snapped his own ridiculous neck.

***Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE who has seen the image above seems to think it has some political meaning – perhaps implying the state of the nation or of the American voting public… Bollocks and drivel!  It is no such thing.  Read the post!  Its nothing more than a tragic fragment of an ambitious loser.  We don’t do politics in this blog!

Meanwhile, finish your holiday shopping with a trip to our Etsy shop (just go there and search EEWbooks)…OR you can follow the links to our website – which will bring you straight to our Etsy shop any way.    -Marsha  

Cockeyed

Talking to a Cock

I guess I was a little drunk.  I was definitely over stimulated.  The boardwalk carnival at night was an intoxicating menagerie of sound and light, of beautiful bodies still in their skimpy beach-wear, smelling of sweat and suntan lotion, of sweet and salty junk food, deep-fried, slathered in cheese.  I wandered like a leaf on the breeze, my bare feet barely touching the wood.

The hawkers, luring people into sideshow attractions, were on fire tonight.  Business was booming at the Snake Boy house; patrons screamed in anguished pleasure.  The Winged Pigs, The Dragon Lady and Six Jesters Conjoined had long, eager lines waiting.  But the one which caught my eye was the only booth whose crier didn’t look like an ancient cigar-chomping sticky-pocketed circus clown with mirrored shoes.  SHE was a sultry middle-aged woman with curves and lumps and hair and eyes that melted my…bones.  It’s probably why I didn’t read the sign on the booth properly – or even care.  I just handed her my money and walked in.

There on the podium, in the center of a dark room with red satin curtains, stood a raging red COCK!

NO…I mean, it was a red rooster with bright flaming plumage.  The other people in the room sat on benches around the bird, enthralled.  I stood for a long moment, puzzled and awkward…until the cock looked over at me and said, “Take a seat there, Sparky, I’m just getting started,” in a voice that sounded remarkably like Noam Chomsky.

You know…I may have misheard the writing prompt today…What?  OH!!!  “Talking to a Cop”…Yeah, I don’t talk to cops.

***The image is “Cockeyed,” a Body-Oddy for our next book, “Body-Oddies.”  The story was recently published on page 58 of our latest book, “A Short Burst”…which you can find at our Etsy shop (search EEWbooks), or follow the links above to our site, which will bring you to our Etsy shop anyway.   -Marsha

Face Page

***”Face Page” is only a rough sketch.  It comes with no short story or clever rhyme.  It was designed to be the inside cover page for our new book, “Body-Oddies.”  John sat down in a lawn chair one warm Saturday afternoon and drew this as is, in one steady shot, without interruption or revision (something HE thinks we’re all supposed to be impressed with).  If you go to www.sallemander.com or to our Etsy shop (etsy.com) and search EEWbooks, you’ll find the final version of this image -in GREEN – used as banner art.  We also sell 11×14 prints of it at the comic cons, sci-fi cons and book festivals we attend.   -Marsha

Nose Hare

You’re welcome to pet him.  Just pet him, I say.                                       He’s never too sticky.  He’s really okay.

He’s just a wee hare, who lives up my nose.                                          SOME people aren’t very keen about those.

I don’t really know, I don’t really care,                                                           how he got in, or from where.

We’re best friends now.  BEST friends I said!                                            And if you don’t like it I’ll rip off your head.

So, go fuck yourself.  Fuck off, I say.                                                                  Just leave us alone.  GO AWAY!!!

Oh…oh my goodness.  You see that?  Wow!                                                   He WANTS you to pet him.  So, PET him…NOW!!!

***Another new one for our Body-Oddies book, which we’re finishing for publication early next year.   -Marsha

Baby Fat

This one is always hungry.                                                                                    That one’s ready to scream.                                                                                  This little one, below, with a rash                                                                            is allergic to diaper cream.                                                                                            I can’t get this one to sleep,                                                                                    but that ones usually sweet.                                                                            Either way, I can’t get a break.                                                                               I’m tired.  I’m hungry.  I’m beat.                                                          Sometimes they’re ALL in a tantrum,
or all have to vomit at once.                                                                                   I’ve got to get rid of this baby fat.                                                                            I don’t think I’ve slept in months.

***A rough sketch and poem for a new new illustrated book, “Body Oddies,” which  we’re finishing up for publication next year.  Find all four of our books and other stuff at our Etsy shop, just follow the links above to our site, www.sallemander.com, or search EEWbooks on Etsy .com.   -Marsha

Assmonkey

I was in no particular hurry at 7:15 on a Saturday morning.  I was driving north on Interstate 295 at about 70 mph. and there was hardly anyone on the roads.

I used the center lane.  It kept me out of the way of the odd car entering or exiting the highway on the right, and there was no reason to be in the passing lane on the left.  But even at that hour, the occasional knot of fancy, expensive cars came up like a swarm and flew past on either side as if I was standing still.  No problem.  It was no bother to me.  There was plenty of room for everyone to do their thing.  They could all crash and die, for all I cared, and I would simply steer around the mess and be on my way, unfazed.  I just never seemed to be in a hurry any more, and I couldn’t imagine that kind of stress ruling over me…or the lack of self control.

I saw the black Mercedes approaching in my rear-view from two miles back.  A minute later it was right behind me, center lane, barely a car length away.  There was no one else on the highway.  There was an empty lane on either side of us as I just explained…and there he stayed.  This tailgating assmonkey with a bloated sense of entitlement, decided to try to bully me out of his lane rather than use his signal and steer around.  He pulled right up to my bumper, flashing his high-beams and honking.  I could see him  shaking his fist and hollering something which looked like, “Let the fudge outta my brain!”  Weird.

Oooooh, the seething madness that consumed his face and filled his luxury cockpit with vitriolic bile, the angry expletives bellowed, the spittle sprayed at the indignity I caused him to suffer by obstructing him, in HIS lane, at a measly five miles over the speed limit…and to watch it increase as I smiled and calmly took my foot off the gas petal, slowing down to 65…was priceless.

The sheer hugeness in the way his rage increased at that moment made me laugh out loud.  By the time I’d slowed to 58, he literally seemed to expand, turn beat-red and blow white steam out of his ears, and just as I reached the minimum, at 40, he popped.

I saw his windows suddenly pasted with gooey chunks of reddish bits,  teeth and slabs of fatty flesh (though, no brains).  His car veered off, crossing the left lane and slammed into the concrete barrier dividing the north and southbound lanes, exploding in spectacular fiery carnage.  Mangled pieces littered the grassy median and black smoke rose 400 feet into the sky…..which NOBODY actually saw.  None of it inconvenienced anyone.  No lanes were closed, no traffic jam formed, nobody was the least bit bothered…because there was nobody else on the friggin’ road!  And no reason for that assmonkey to have tailgated me.

With a carefree smile, I slowly brought my speed back up to 70 and turned the volume up to eleven as “Dead and Lovely” by Tom Waits played on the radio.

*** Where I come from, Assmonkey is the name we use for tailgaters, people with no self control who drive their cars close enough to your rear bumper to smell your last meal.  This red-rough sketch and short story draft are new for our 5th book, “Body-Oddies,” which we’re finishing up for publication early next year.  They will surely be revised and finished beyond recognition, so you should try to enjoy them while you can.  As it is, only a fraction (barely 13 percent) of the material from any of our books is ever released on social media, so you really should try to get the books.  Find all our stuff at our Etsy shop (search EEWbooks), or follow the links to www.sallemander.com, which will take you to our Etsy shop.   -Marsha 

It’s Not About You

It’s Not About You…

“It’s not about you…” she said in her best, most sincere tone, “Really.  You’re fine.  I’m really okay with it…it’s just that, I think…I’m in a different place in my life right now…”  She smiled, looking away, trying to remember some of her gentlest brush-offs.  A bead of sweat  began it’s descent down the back of her neck, even as frustration and indignation came up in her bile.

“Oh, to HELL with it!  I can’t do this!  Listen…you seemed like a nice, normal person and all but… JESUS effin’ CHRIST!!  Your dating profile NEVER said anything about THAT!!!  I mean, come ON!”  She pulled up her boot zipper, buttoned the top button of her blue jeans and grabbed her jacket off the floor as she made for the bedroom door. “You might have warned me at some point during dinner!”  She was really hollering now.  “Seriously?  I had to wait until we both undressed to find out about…..THAT?!?”  She slammed the door, making the whole room shudder, and with one final “AAAAUGHHH!!!!  FRIGGIN’ FREAK SHOW!!” she stomped away.

***This image, never posted before with this short story, was first published in the June 2008 issue of Analog Mag.  You can find it NOW in the pages of our NEW book, “A Short Burst,” by following the links to www.sallemander.com. or search EEWbooks at Etsy.com.   -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