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Johnny Kazoo :iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 0 0
Mature content
WELP 69 :iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 0 0
Literature
WU: Belly Achin' Cowboy
It was cool night. The kind that only follows a hot day on the edges of a desert. The sky was pissing hail the size of bullets on a fallen form in the middle of the sand. Gar would have found this unpleasant enough, but it was just a small mosquito bite compared to the pain he was in. Big Man Duke had decided he had no more need for Gar. Once they had been best buds, robbing trains with the best of them. But after the successful high-jack of the WestNorth Gold Mine, Duke had decided that Gar had out lived his use.
It had been a pathetic event. Gar didn’t know what was coming as they rode out into the middle of nowhere. Duke had taken his gun out and pointed it at Gar many a time before, but he never once thought he would truly pull the trigger.
But here he was, laying face down in sand that was soaked red in blood. The falling stones of ice woke him up and left him with a throbbing head ache. He pulled himself up and dusted himself off. His guts ached, but the bullet, still hot u
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:iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 0 0
Literature
Swamp-Ass Jungle Town
My face in my hands
I feel like a mess
They can’t understand
What I can’t express
I’m trying to be the best image of me.
When I hit it I’m free
When I miss it’s Killing me
I try not to be a narcist
But when I need time
I  ask what shit is this
I feel Like it’s a crime
To need piece of mind
Is it my voice?
Or voices of the past?
Either way it’s kicking my ass
I’m a Zombie made of
Parasites and Spores
The emptiness is ignored
I’m lying on the floor
I’m falling out of luck
Once again I’m stuck in the muck
And it’s pulling me down
To wallow once more on the ground
Of this swamp-ass jungle town
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:iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 0 0
Mature content
Am I allowed...? :iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 0 0
Literature
Playing Nice
'HAVE A NICE MEAL' the microwave told me when I finally pulled out my lukewarm coffee. It was almost 2-o'clock and I had already gone through two cups; one had been gulped down that morning at breakfast and the other had been soaked into a stale towel that had also swallowed some spilled milk. I weaved through flashcards, tinker toys, and building blocks on my way to my chair. The kids were in their room watching a movie so I had been looking forward to a moment of peace to enjoy my brew. I sat down and took in that first, tepid sip.
*THUNK*
Immediately my two and a half year old daughter, Diannah the Dinosaur, started crying. I clunked my coffee on the side table and rushed to their room. ‘Had she been climbing the dresser again?’ I thought to myself. Upon entering their room my six year old daughter, Sarah the Bug dispels this thought when she says, "It was an accident," from on her top bed bunk.
I glanced down at the Dinosaur. One side of her face was red, a large V-Tech
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:iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 1 0
CottonCandyUnicorn by WTFgirl CottonCandyUnicorn :iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 0 2
Literature
Uh-oh
Wet and full was the only way to describe it. We had gotten too distracted, and it was understandable. We didn’t go out to eat that often and you weren’t completely on the big kid wagon yet. You did know you had to go, just a little too late. It had already happened. But that’s what pull ups are for. They’re there for your mistakes. They’re there for you to learn. And they're there for you to grow.
So we packed you in the car, drove across the parking lot to the nearest store with a family bathroom. I grabbed your big-kid back-pack filled with pull ups and wipes. You took my finger and we walked to the store.
We were nearly there. Just a little bit to go. You smiled and waved to people as the drove or walked by, even said 'hi' to a large group of older folks. And then you said it. Words that made my heart sink for just a second.
“Uh-Oh.”
“What uh-oh?” I asked looking over at you quickly. It wasn’t a hard ‘uh-oh’ to
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:iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 4 6
20150210 142904 by WTFgirl 20150210 142904 :iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 1 23
Literature
It Began with a Fire: Ch.1
Chapter 1
"Always ask, always receive!"
The blinking L.E.D screen read several stories above Silvia's head. She leaned against an unmanned fruit stand and looked at the tall buildings and happy people. The streets were lined with posters, billboards and even more LED screens each saying something like "Servants are happy when they serve. Keep your servant happy!", "Nothing is ever too much!" with a touch of "Don't leave your servant behind, they are there for you!" and "Don't get in trouble, you'll make your servant sad." Accompanying this sign was the trademark servants' black mask with a cartoon tear coming out of the eye hole.
Silvia casually looked over fruit, picking them up, one at a time, and rolling them in her hands. Their gleaming skins of different colors reflected her face. She finally found one that was worth her palate and took a bite out the crisp flesh as her servant ran, breathless, to her side.
“Miss, please don't run off like that,” he said huffing. "You
:iconWTFgirl:WTFgirl
:iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 0 0
Literature
It Began with a Fire: Prologue
Prologue
It began with a fire. As cold as ice, hard as rock and bright as flame. It stood in the middle of the void for many long years before shattering. First stepped out the elves, their long legs dancing gracefully over the unrefined silk of the universe. They waited patiently as the White Dragon, Enerelvis emerged, her long wings already torn and aged from battles she was yet to fight. Her large eyes twinkled and she gave birth to three dragons.
First born was Theecrose. In a single slam of his foot he pulled up the large continent that most life inhabits and the two great islands for the elves and the White one. He thundered slowly from the south leaving large mountains and stone arches where ever he walked. As he reached the tip of his land he let loose a large breath and spilled a massive dessert across the land. He dug a deep tunnel deep under the world and kept himself busy with his people, the dwarfs.
Second born was his lover, Kanza. Her blue scales icy and hard but not
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:iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 1 0
Mature content
A Funny Story :iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 3 8
Literature
Forest in the Crater Ch. 2
The slow descent into the crater was long. The minute hand on his watch had nearly circled the face twice before the Zeppelin clunked down onto the ground. Ray stood up and collected his briefcase and toolbox from the compartment under his seat.
The others did the same but no one moved until the door opened. Mr. Grey got up after a moment and pushed the door open, grumbling something about kids always waiting for someone to do things for them.
With the opening of the door came a rush of black myst. Ray jumped back and dropped his suitcase, his arms wrapped protectively over his toolbox.
The others reacted about the same, a few people screamed and one boy in particular leapt over the seats behind him in a show of athletic fear.
Mr. Grey groaned loudly, "it's not going to kill you."
The Myst washed over them. The gasp of  people holding their breath and gags of people who didn't filled the air.
Everything was quiet for a moment until someone shouted, "I'm not dead!" A small girl's a
:iconWTFgirl:WTFgirl
:iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 1 0
Literature
Forest in the Crater Ch. 1
Chapter 1
"Selfish."
The word echoed in his head. She had called him selfish when he told her he wanted to do the experiment. Did it matter that he transferred the money to her account so she could take care of his baby brother and sisters? No, she still called him selfish.
He shook his head and looked out of the zeppelin's window. Large towering mountains loomed around the ship like massive walls blotting out the sky. What little he did see of the sky was a crystal blue, clean and clear. It looked so strange. He was used to large smog clouds filling the sky and the thick air full of smoke. In the zeppelin he could feel and taste the thick air he was used to, but he didn't know what to expect once he stepped off the ship.
"Raymond Mills?" The flight attendant asked in a soft voice.
"I prefer Ray," he said turning away from the window.
The attendant was a small woman with hard eyes and a soft jaw. She stood in the shadow of a giant of a man. His tall form sloped forward so he wouldn't h
:iconWTFgirl:WTFgirl
:iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 1 1
1st Bow in hair 1 by WTFgirl 1st Bow in hair 1 :iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 1 3 1st Bow in hair 2 by WTFgirl 1st Bow in hair 2 :iconwtfgirl:WTFgirl 1 1

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Johny wiped sweat from his brow. Perhaps this batch would be it? Just a little more heat. After the strange liquid came to a boil, he pulled it from the stove and pushed it into the ice box. “Don’t fall.” He whispered over and over again as he cleaned up the barn he used as a workshop. He had been trying to make a horse hoof free gelatin for the past ten years. His first experiments were burned into the barn floor. One in particular had melted through metal pot and left a large hole that took him weeks to carefully scoop out the liquid with a glass cup. It was the only thing that held it without melting. Now it was just a hole that threatened to trip him is he wasn’t paying attention.

He paused from his cleaning and gave ThunderCleft a pat. ThunderCleft was an old race horse, but he was able to save him from the gelatin factories of Gel’no. He had purchased the barn himself with the proceeds from his attraction. His parents had been against the purchase, but what was a single horse and a run down barn compared to what they got on a daily basis.

ThunderCleft pawed at the ground as Johny gave him one last pat and a kiss on his velvety muzzle. “I’ll be back tonight with popcorn,” the horse huffed, “Fine, also a caramel apple. It’s not good for you, but I’ll let it slide. You’re too old for it to matter.”

He double checked that his ice box was properly hidden under a couple bales of hay. Once satisfied, Johny left the barn to do his afternoon show. It wasn’t his idea, but at some point he had shown a knack for the instrument and eventually his parents had found a way to profit from it.

Twelve years later Johny was 16 and still doing three shows a day with Tuesdays and Wednesdays off. He went to the large, maroon, tent that took up most of his family’s property, and slipped into his room. It was decorated with photos of him doing his act at increasingly younger ages. He didn’t like seeing it all the time. His parents had insisted it would be good motivation and inspiration.
Sure he was good, but he didn’t think that it would still be a viable means of life twelve years later. But everyday, three times a day the tent filled up with paying spectators to see his stupid parlor trick.

The bell by his door jingled. He had five minutes. He took a breath and grabbed his case. It was just another day in his life. The world may be a stage, but his stage was inside maroon cloth walls.

He stood by the curtain until he was cued in by his father Richardo. Richardo had embraced the large, waxed mustached stereotype of ring leaders. He had even bought himself a good suit, a top hat and greased his hair with shoe polish to look the part.

His mother, Licia, used to do tricks with Helga the elephant. After the elephant had died of dysentery a few years ago his mother bought a seal named Simon. Currently Licia was trying to teach Simon to juggle. Though more often than not, Simon had a problem with dehydration. “He acts so impatient when I try to fill his pool,” Licia once said when Johnny asked why Simon didn’t have water.

So it was alone that Johny stepped into the ring. Announced by a name he had heard so many times that it might as well have been his legal name.

Johny Kazoo.

Johny Kazoo stopped at a stand and rested his case on it. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. The audience was enraptured by the scrawny boy with wispy hair and pale skin. He opened the case and pulled out the first instrument.

Despite how much he hated his shtick, he always admired this instrument. It had been a gift from the great Boozdoole himself, the inventor of kazoos. It was different that other kazoos. It was much larger, with several holes that helped him do his performance without the strange garden hose kazoo Johnny made when he was younger.

He placed the metal to his lips and began his rendition of ‘Suzie’s Last Stand’, an old favorite. He held the kazoo with one hand and quickly slipped a small kazoo into a slot on the main kazoo creating a harmony. He added kazoo after kazoo as he went. Some of the kazoos had rubber filters that would stagger the air flow creating a round to the song.

At the end of the song the audience was in an uproar. Johnny performed four more songs, ‘Fifty Shoes in the Kettle’, ‘Why is the baby in the Jon’, ‘Kelp’, and the much loved encore song ‘Don’t do that, you’ll stain your pants’.

Johnny took the kazoos apart one last time and bowed. That was why he was famous. He was Johnny Kazoo master of the harmonic kazoo who could play fifteen kazoos at once. Even more impressive was that he still had enough breath to walk out of the circus ring.

It made people happy. Little kids clamored for an over-priced kazoo. Their parents could hardly stand the sound of wax paper of a comb on a normal day, but they were caught in the glamour of a master and allowed it.

“Good job out there son!” His father said, beaming. “But you should get some more practice in, you went flat at the end of Kelp.”

“Yes Papa,” Johnny knew better than to argue. Helga wasn’t the first to die in his parent’s circus, and he wasn’t planning on being the next casualty.
Instead Johnny took a bucket to the water pump and filled it. He did this twenty times. And twenty times he dumped the water into Simon’s pool. It wasn’t enough to properly fill it, but the seal was happy nonetheless.

“I was going to do that,” his mother huffed after the twentieth bucket was dumped.

“He could use some more water,” Johnny said offering the bucket to his mom.

She shook his head, “Don’t want to spoil him.”

Johnny shrugged and left his mom with the bucket. She would argue further if he kept filling the pool. He would just have to finish it that night. He might as well go to his barn and away from the big top drama.

Outside the tent was flooded with people. He kept his head down and walked with a slow gait. This way he was able to get about half way through the torrent before he was recognized.

“JOHNNY!” A little kid squealed and Johnny’s blood ran cold. Before he could run, he was surrounded on all sides. It was times like these where he missed Helga. No one tried to hug him when he had a massive land mammal beside him. But sans elephant, he was being smothered in affection he did not ask for.

“Let the poor kid breath.” An older man said, this time. There was always at least one who said that. Most of the time the crowd didn’t listen. But this time they did. Johnny looked up and expected to see someone important.

It was just an small old man whose face was more mustache than face. He looked familiar, but then again Johnny had many a fan who made it to more than one show a week. The old man wasn’t his usual repeat attendee, mostly kids under the age of ten and love-struck women between the ages of twelve and thirty-five.

Nonetheless, Johnny was grateful for the break in the crowd. He offered his hand, “Thank you.”
The old man took the offered hand with enthusiasm, “No, thank you! I won’t be the first to say that that was a stunning act.”

“It’s appreciated.” Johnny said just enough to be polite. He just wanted to get back to his barn to see if his gelatin had formed properly.

“I’m Lutenant Phineas, inventor and owner of Gel’No Gelatin Enterprise.” Johnny’s stomach dropped.

“And, after such a grandiose display of Kazoo expertise, I want to ask you to be the face of Gel’No Gelatin Enterprise.

“While I am flattered,” Johnny said carefully, “I will have to…”

“ACCEPT!” A voice yelled from behind. Johnny spun around to see his father just as a large arm wrapped over Johnny’s shoulder. “We humbly accept your offer.”
Lieutenant Phineas’ face lit up and bounded to Johny’s father’s offered hand, “I’m sure I will not regret it.”

“I can guarantee it.” Richardo said grinning. He turned to Johnny, “You go ahead and run off. Adults need to talk.”

“Shouldn’t I be part of it?” Johnny snapped.

Roger bent down and said softly “Until you’re eighteen I’m in charge of your paperwork. I make the choices, you make the money.” He smiled, his hand waving Johnny off.

“Of course.” Johnny headed towards his barn, kicking rocks and empty kazoo boxes. He would rather do any number of great and terrible things than do anything for Gel’No let alone be their public face. Sure he hated the kazoo almost as much as Gel’No, but you don’t let two evil things get together. That just breeds confused children who are really good at playing the kazoo.

Johnny closed the barn door behind him went to the stables. ThunderCleft pawed at the ground, his large nostrils sniffing at Johnny’s offered hand. The horse snorted and shuffled to the side of his stable.

Johnny hopped onto the gate and pet ThunderCleft for a while. The great brown horse was an old warrior when it came to doing things it didn’t want to do. It had ran hundreds of races. Riding crop scars lined his flanks. But that hadn’t stopped ThunderCleft. He had won more races than he had lost and was now safe to do what he pleased.

“Just one song won’t hurt, right?” He asked the horse who just rubbed his face on Johnny, looking for a treat. “Alright, give me a second.”

He turned and something caught his eye. The barn door was open. “Didn’t I shut that?” He asked the horse. Johnny shook his head. He probably left it open so it would be easier to get ThunderCleft out to the field to run for a while. He was almost to the bag of apples when he saw the ice chest and his heart sank.

The chest was open. Johnny crept closer and he could hot anger in his veins. His Gelatin had been dumped all over the ground.

He rushed through the door to catch whoever destroyed his gelatin. But all he could see were his parents on top of the hill talking business with Lieutenant Phineas. There was no sign of anyone else.

***

“No, no,” Lieutenant Phineas said for the fifth time half way through Johnny’s performance.
Johnny offered the Kazoo to the large man, “Okay, show me how to do it.” It had been four hours of trying to get Lieutenant Phineas’ vision to perfection. Needless to say, it wasn’t going according to plan.

Phineas took the instrument in his thick hands. At his lips the instrument gave a noise that sounded more like a strangled cat eating a very distraught bird than music.

He tried a few more times, each effort sounding more like dieing animals than the last. Finally he dropped the kazoo into Johnny’s expectant hand.

“What you were doing was fine. Let’s go from the top.” Phineas said dejectedly.

Perhaps it never occurred to him that perhaps, just maybe, a fifteen kazoo apparatus had limits. He waved Johnny to start again and didn’t interrupt him until after Johnny finished the piece.

“I guess that will do,” The Lieutenant said lowly.

“The offer still stands,” Johnny teased.

The large man stared Johnny down but didn’t say anything on the matter. “I think we have what we need. You can run off. I will see you Tuesday for your Public performance of the new song.
Johnny span on the spot, “Tuesday?!”

“Yes, Tuesday. Do you have a problem with that?”

Truthfully Johnny had a problem with it. It was his day off and he needed to remake the gelatin. But he shook his head and said, “No sir, Tuesday is fine.”

“Atta boy.” Phineas winked and left.

Johnny talked his anger down as he walked out of the big top. It would be alright. He would just nip back to his burning barn and check on his current batch gelatin.
Johnny stopped, tripping over his suddenly frozen feet. His barn was in flames. He walked slowly towards the sight. The sound of screaming split the air.

“ThunderCleft!” Strength suddenly returned to Johnny’s limbs and he was sprinting towards the barn.
“ThunderCleft!” He screamed again, “I’ll save you, boy.”

Something thick and solid clotheslined him, the smoke filled night sky suddenly looking down at him. “No you don’t.” Richardo loomed just in Johnny’s vision.

“We wouldn’t want smoke getting into those lungs of yours.” Licia’s voice careened.

“But my horse!”

“You can get another horse.” His father said pulling his son back to his feet.

“But my barn!” Johnny tried to run towards the flames, but his father kept him rooted.

“We found a bowl of gelatin.” His mother started slowly, as if they found crack in his pillowcase. “I don’t think it would do well to be making competition for your newest employer, do you?”

“You burned it down?” Johnny felt his legs giving way. “Why?”

“Son, we couldn’t risk you destroying the deal with Lieutenant Phineas.”

“But ThunderCleft? You could have taken him out.”

His mother shrugged, “It never liked me to begin with. You’re better with getting a new pony or something sweeter.”

Johnny shook. ThunderCleft’s screams faded into the crackling of the fire. The smell of burnt meat wafted from the barn. Johnny felt sick to his stomach.

“We’ll clean up the mess,” His dad sad letting go of Johnny. “You go to bed so you can be nice and rested for the big event.”

Johnny couldn’t speak. All he could do was trudge back to the tent and hope that he still had his old recipe book filled with all of his failed gelatins.

***


Tuesday came quicker than he expected, but Johnny was proud of his work. Lieutenant Phineas wanted several glasses of gelatin lined up over the crowd and Johnny had taken it upon himself to make it perfect. Johnny had even taken it upon himself to hand pick each and every glass. He wanted to make sure everything would go perfectly.

After all, it was going to be his most talked about event. He even wrote a second song just that night for the event.

Sitting down on the stool just behind the curtain, Johnny polished his kazoos. All the while keeping an eye on his work.

It would be a waste if any of the glasses spilled.

“Amazing, my boy!” Lieutenant Phineas exclaimed, startling Johnny from his stupor. “It will never be heard from me that Johnny Kazoo doesn’t deliver.”

“Thank you.” Johnny said with a nod. “If it isn’t too brash of me, I would like to perform a second song that I think will go well with this event.”

“Sure, could you give me a sample of it?”

Johnny paused, and pursed his lips, “I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise. Sir.” He added quickly.
Phineas threw his hands up, “I’ll allow it. But only because I like you.”

“Thank you.”

“Ah, Phineas!” Johnny’s father sighed, “How is everything?”

“No worse than yesterday, but not as good as tomorrow,” Phineas boasted like a child who thought they were saying something witty.

“Is everything to your liking?” Johnny’s father asked, leading Phineas back stage.
Their conversation mulled over the lights, the recording equipment and even assigned seats.

“You’ll have to sit up front!” Phineas cooed, “Right next to me.”

“We couldn’t,” Johnny’s mother declined politely.

“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Johnny said.

“Yes, we’ll show the world who raised Johnny Kazoo.”

“If you insist,” Johnny’s dad said, grinning from ear to ear.

It didn’t take long before the tent began to fill up. Seats were taken, swapped, and moaned over. Every now and then there would be the odd mention of a seal in the back of a pick up truck.

“It almost time!” Johnny’s mother squealed, handing Johnny a cup of lemon and honey tea.

“Thanks,” Johnny drank his tea and watched as his mom took her seat. The glasses gleamed above them with their multi-colored gelatin. It looked almost pleasant, like he could forget everything that had recently.

Almost.

He put his kazoos, now shining, into their case and stretched. This was it.

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Adam Strupnick, a famous show announcer, said. “We are coming to you live from Kazoo Red top in New Oldwater where there is a remarkable young man whom many of you may have heard of. Brought to you by Gel’no Gelatin. Remember if it’s not Gel’no, say hell no!” He plugged the catch phrase with a thrust of fist to the camera. “Now, say hello to the man of the hour, Johnny Kazooooo!”

Johnny, like every night, walked into the ring with his case and set it on the stand. He paused before opening it and said, “Thank you all for being here tonight. Not only will I be performing the well crafted piece that Lieutenant Phineas devised, but there will also be a never before heard encore song.”

His parents beamed with pride.

Johnny turned to his case and began.

The entire tent was quiet. The acoustics of the tent let the sound wash over the audience. The occasional note from his kazoos would vibrate a few glasses making the note ring. Light would scatter with the vibrating glasses and by the end of the new song, brought to you by Gel’No everyone was on their feet.

He bowed and smiled as sad as he could make a smile, “Thank you. Now the promised encore is a dedication to a great friend of mine who recently passed away in a terrible fire. It’s called, “ThunderCleft Retribution.” There were a few forlorn looks in the crowd, a couple snickers at the name. But his parent’s looks were absolute venom. He would have said more, to assure them that it was not an attack against them.

But they had taught him not to lie unless it was to a tax collector or a recruiter. Besides, he had a show to finish.

Unlike most songs, this song require all fifteen kazoos. It was his greatest piece. Soon he could see his emotion welling up in the faces of the crowd and tears were being shed. The song rose and dipped violently as he played, the glasses vibrated violently.

Then the first glass broke. Gelatin spilled on the audience. Then three more glasses broke. First the audience screamed with delighted surprise.

Then the screams welled up against the music, in swelling agony.

The gelatin ate through the skin of an older man. His face melted away like wax dripping from a candle revealing the toothless skull underneath. Several people jumped back, jostling the tent.
Johnny stopped playing as every single glass fell, in a sudden swoop, over the crowd. He watched as they screamed, skin dripping from limbs. His parents trying in vain to wipe it from themselves, only succeeded in wiping off their own flesh and spreading the terrible concoction.

He slowly, deliberately, put his kazoos away in his case. For what was he but a show man? With each scream he heard ThunderCleft. With each falling body and grinning skull revealed he felt redemption. After the kazoos were put away safely, he bowed and left.

He had a friend in the back of a pick up waiting for him. And his mother always said seals were notoriously impatient.
Johnny Kazoo
Inspired by prompt given to me by a slightly eccentric fellow. It was supposed to be goofy and humorous, but I fail. Please enjoy, or hate it. Really, it's your choice. <3
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Since my last entry my life has begun to take a new path. Vampire's Fairy Tale is now Start the Fire and should be published near the end of this year. I am also live streaming video games and raising two kids. On top of my novel I have decided to start a side project of a mini series of short stories based on a few online friends. No idea where it will go or where it will take me, but I am looking forward to how it pans out. 

Mature Content

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At long last, it was Sunday. The familiar computer hum greeted Curley’s ears and the ever growing excitement rose up in his chest. He aloud himself to skip across the room. This was it.

“Lame.” A voice called through the dark. Curley turned on the light to see none other than Kaz sitting in the dark, Luna curled up in his bare lap. The ever present yowl of Cookie sounded through the house. “Shut up!”

“What are you doing here?” Curley asked.

“Episode 69.”

“Welp, no better way to celebrate.” Curley chuckled, “I got you, Fam.”

Kaz set the cat away, revealing he was already ready. Curley was quick to undress and soon they were acting true the episode’s name. Sweat dripped and a few moans were uttered.

And then a knock on the door.

Before Curley could respond the door slammed open. “SHEEP WEEK…”

“That was last week,” Kaz scoffed from his resting spot between Curley’s legs.

“Beep to the bye!” Sheep screamed.

“Aw, what’s wrong sheep?” Curley asked taking a moment to breathe.

“I..I’m getting some cheese sauce.” Sheep turned and slammed the door behind her. Her iconic scream could be heard for several moments after she left.

“Well, that was a thin…” Kaz trailed off just as Curley continued what they had started. Soon they were both enjoying each other, the room filled with sounds of unbridled passion for the 69th episode.

The excitement rose in waves through both of the hosts, words had no meaning, it was just them and the camera in the corner showing their celebration to their fans.

Bits were flying.

Three people un-followed.

Fifty more followed.

Sweat dripped, and with a final grunt and large load of bits flooded the screen.

Kaz and Curley lay panting, their mission complete. Then, once more the door open.

“I…?” Sam stood at the door, trying to comprehend the scene that lay before him.

“Episode 69,” Curley propped himself on his elbow, head resting in his hand, “I’m good for another match.”

“No thanks,” Sam said flatly, “I’m vegan.”
It was cool night. The kind that only follows a hot day on the edges of a desert. The sky was pissing hail the size of bullets on a fallen form in the middle of the sand. Gar would have found this unpleasant enough, but it was just a small mosquito bite compared to the pain he was in. Big Man Duke had decided he had no more need for Gar. Once they had been best buds, robbing trains with the best of them. But after the successful high-jack of the WestNorth Gold Mine, Duke had decided that Gar had out lived his use.
It had been a pathetic event. Gar didn’t know what was coming as they rode out into the middle of nowhere. Duke had taken his gun out and pointed it at Gar many a time before, but he never once thought he would truly pull the trigger.
But here he was, laying face down in sand that was soaked red in blood. The falling stones of ice woke him up and left him with a throbbing head ache. He pulled himself up and dusted himself off. His guts ached, but the bullet, still hot under his flesh, seemed to had missed anything important. He stood, his hand held over his hand to catch anymore hail aimed at his head.
Duke had been dumb in shooting Gar in the stomach and not finishing the job. But he was smart in one respect. Duke had taken Gar’s horse. There wasn’t a star in the sky or a setting sun or even a moss covered stone to show the way, but he didn’t have to know. For in the distance he could hear the sound of horses on the sand. He turned and saw 8 covered wagons heading his way.
He hobbled towards the sound. His hand in over his wound. The horses came to a halt, rearing up in fear of the smell of blood.
“Howdy, partner,” said an older gentleman with a hat nearly twice the size of his small, round body, “You seem to be in a bit a of a kerfussle.”
“You could say that,” Gar scoffed, “Do you have room for one more in your convoy? I owe someone a favor in WestNorth.”
“Sure do we’re heading in that direction. Think you’re well enough to sit up with me? Someone like you might startle the ladies in the back.”
“If there be ladies back there, I will gladly sit up with you, Sir.”
The little man laughed, “Don’t going Siring me, son. Name’s Balder and I’m in employment of Lady Danny.”
“Truly?”
“Truly, she’s the one who is in charge of this here convoy. We’re headin’ down to CreekCrack to set up shot, but I think you’re little town is on our way.”
Gar’s stomach stabbed as the cart moved in it’s own way, bumping along. It wasn’t long until the hail let up and Balder handed Gar the reins so he could move the ply of wood that hung over the front seat. While Gar’s stomach felt worse by the minute, blood soaking through his jacket, he no longer had to worry about the hail trying to knock him out.
“How’d that happen anyways? If you don’t mind me askin’.”
“A friend of mine turned out to be less than that. Set me up to die out here.”
“And that’s the favor you’re thinking of returning?”
Gar nodded. His stomach ached and he didn’t feel like speaking much more.
“And what’s he doing at WestNorth mine?” A female voice asked behind him.
Gar’s head was foggy and decided that concocting a lie was too much trouble. “We had taken it over. Rid the town of the people and were planting workers,” he hissed with another breath, “Then he betrayed me.”
“We’ll be sure to pay him a favor,” Balder said licking his lips. “But might as well start cleaning up the mess here.” The sound of a cocking gun sounded in Gar’s ear.
Before he could move the familiar sound of igniting black powder exploded in his ear. A split second of hot pain, and that was that.
“To WestNorth?” Balder asked
“Of course. I’ll let the girls know we’re taking a detour.” Lady Danny asked kicking the body from her wagon. She pulled out her powder horn and began reloading her rifle.
WU: Belly Achin' Cowboy
Inspired by a impromptu prompt from samhears 

I used the D20 method when writing this warm up. 
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My face in my hands
I feel like a mess
They can’t understand
What I can’t express

I’m trying to be the best image of me.
When I hit it I’m free
When I miss it’s Killing me

I try not to be a narcist
But when I need time
I  ask what shit is this

I feel Like it’s a crime
To need piece of mind

Is it my voice?
Or voices of the past?
Either way it’s kicking my ass

I’m a Zombie made of
Parasites and Spores
The emptiness is ignored
I’m lying on the floor

I’m falling out of luck
Once again I’m stuck in the muck

And it’s pulling me down
To wallow once more on the ground
Of this swamp-ass jungle town
Swamp-Ass Jungle Town
A poem I wrote about something I occasionally go through. Enjoy it if you will, leave it if you won't. Constructive criticism is welcome.
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Since my last entry my life has begun to take a new path. Vampire's Fairy Tale is now Start the Fire and should be published near the end of this year. I am also live streaming video games and raising two kids. On top of my novel I have decided to start a side project of a mini series of short stories based on a few online friends. No idea where it will go or where it will take me, but I am looking forward to how it pans out. 

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WTFgirl
Kandice Saur
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I am a stay at home mom of two crazy children who like listening to me read H.P Lovecraft, fantasy stories and the occasion story by Mom.

My first love was my imagination and I am still in love with it. Now that my heart has more occupants I have less time to write, but that doesn't mean I am unhappy.

I enjoy writing just to write, but if someone likes it, it makes me twice as happy. If you don't like it I could always use the critique. I can always improve.
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:iconvenom-v13:
Venom-V13 Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2015
Happy Birthday!! Fun cake birthday cake
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:iconwtfgirl:
WTFgirl Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
THANK YOU!!! You're so awesome to hit me with this!
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:iconvenom-v13:
Venom-V13 Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2015
Hehe, you're welcome, hopefully it was an awesome day! ;)
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:iconwtfgirl:
WTFgirl Featured By Owner Jul 12, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
It was pretty good. Pretty much like a normal good day.
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:iconcommndershepard117:
CommnderShepard117 Featured By Owner Mar 11, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the watch!
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:iconwtfgirl:
WTFgirl Featured By Owner Mar 11, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
No prob. Thank you as well. 
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:iconcommndershepard117:
CommnderShepard117 Featured By Owner Mar 11, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Anytime! Feel free to check out my gallery! :)
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:iconwdlady:
WDLady Featured By Owner Aug 25, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the faves, hon! :heart::love:
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Poetically-Yours Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2014
Thanks so much for the llama!
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:iconwtfgirl:
WTFgirl Featured By Owner Feb 9, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
No problem. You gave one and I returned one. 
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