April 24, 2011

The Funeral

[...Posted by Ted H]

Funny thing about playing RPG games, doing schoolwork, working, finding a better job and writing all in the same week. Theres never enough time to do anything. Mass Effect/Fallout have been owning my soul as is this whole job hunt.

...Im not saying any of those are responsible for my lackluster writing.
The real reason is that I was recently, and without warning, exposed to dead, fat, old lady nudity (its as bad as it sounds) in person.
I may still need a few days to recouperate my mental state.
Why the fuck would I share that with you? Because I originally wanted to write a horror story this week, and there isnt much scarier than a dead fat old woman in a birthday suit.

Bad news: I got only half a story for ya.
Good news: Got another author (maybe 2) on the way.
Bad news: part 2 may or may not get posted in the near future.
Good news: I plan on gettin Safe Haven updated one of these weeks though.
Bad news: Aprils prolly turning into "All Ted Month"
Good news: An "All Ted Month" is the best theme month you can ask for.
Bad news: Im still doing this good/bad news thing.
Good news: It sure does flesh this update out though.


[The Funeral]

It was still early when Dante arrived at the funeral home. He wanted to be there first so he could find a nice corner to sulk in and no one has to watch him enter. It would also give him one last private moment with Susan. He entered into an empty foyer with a freshly vacuumed carpet that Dante felt guilty about tracking mud on.

At the far side of the room was a fountain that hadn’t yet been switched on and over it hung a portrait of the original owner, the grandfather of the current owner or something. The man in the picture was sitting down with a scowl on him face and Dante wondered why people never smile for those paintings. The nearby grandfather clock struck a new hour and an automatic timer switched the fountain to life.

Dante heard a toilet flush and a moment later a man walked out of the bathroom without washing his hands and was surprised to see Dante out there. “Um, we’re not open yet,” the man said as he tucked in his dress shirt. “Not open?” Dante found himself asking aloud. He didn’t know what to think of that. “It’s awfully cold out,” Dante said “and I promise to be quiet.” The man finished with his shirt and shrugged. “Fine, but don’t let my boss know you’re here,” he said “Who are you here for?”

“Thompson,” Dante said. The man pointed to the double doors to the left of the fountain, then extended his hand outwards. “Sorry for your loss,” he said but Dante didn’t shake his hand. “You should wash your hands more in this business,” he said then went to visit Susan.

Dante entered into the empty room, all alone with a corpse on the far side. He was hesitant to approach but he knew this was his only chance to do so. “Hey,” he muttered out as he stood above her. There was a kneeler set up, but Dante didn’t bother. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get up if he did.

He tried to say something else, but words eluded him. He couldn’t think of anything to say. He decided to just reflect on their life together but nothing came to mind. All his mind could bear to conjure were vague emotions loosely associated to Susan. Each time he tried to identify the history behind a certain emotion, it would fade from his mind and other emotions would begin to overwhelm. He just stood over her and let it all wash over him. The only truly identifiable feeling was that of dread, because once this was all over, Dante knew he wouldn’t be able to feel much emotion without her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he pulled himself away from her and crossed to the other side of the room.

The family slowly filled the room in time. Her mother and father (arriving separately), grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and innumerable friends. Dante recognized most of them and almost marveled at how over half of them hadn’t seen, much less talked to Susan in years. All of a sudden they were there to show respect to the death of someone they barely knew in life.

None of them recognized Dante, either because they barely knew him before or they chose to ignore him, Dante remained undisturbed. Dante observed them all, if only to distract himself from his own grief. The mother did a lot of crying, mostly into the arms of her boyfriend. The father did all the talking and handshaking. The younger cousins sat in their own corner, grumbling at how they barely knew Susan and how Aunt/Uncle so-and-so had dragged them there. There was one aunt there with her own bottle of holy water, saying prayers and sprinkling water about Susan.

Most everyone else were seemingly oblivious of where they were and were talking as if this were some run of the mill family reunion. Of all the conversations that had caught Dante’s ears, none of them dared to bring up Susan, much less how she died. If you were to bring a blind man in and sit him down without telling him where he was, never in a million years would he be able to know he was in a funeral home.

April 17, 2011

The Drunk Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was

[...Posted by Ted H]

Its fairy Tale time, kiddies! this one goes out to my old roommate, whos prolly drunk right now...


[The Drunk Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was]

Once upon a while ago, in a small nowhere village in a place no one cares to look for, lived a young drunk who with the exception of one particular trait, was just like everyone else you would meet. He didn’t have any unnatural strength or special abilities. He didn’t have a high intellect, he was actually quite naive and stupid. In fact, there was no redeeming characteristic about him at all. But it wasn’t what the drunk had that makes him unique, but what he didn’t have. He didn’t know what it was to feel fear. He wanted to, but he lacked to motive to actually try to learn, choosing to instead drink and inhale his mind altering herbs.

Every night the drunk would walk down to his favorite bar and drink all night, uttering the same line “If I could but shudder! If I could but shudder!” On one particular night, the bartender overheard the drunk’s muttering. “What is this you’re babbling on about, boy?” he asked. The drunk looked up and said “I don’t know what it is to feel fear. That is all.”

“You wish to learn fear?” a shady man in dark cloths and sunglasses said from the corner “Then go into the cellar.” The bartender shook his head. “I refuse to let this young man just stumble off to his death in the cellar.” With that he walked over to the shady man “Why don’t you go down there instead?” he said as he pointed to the cellar door. “Because I do not wish to shudder!” the shady man said sarcastically.

“What is so scary about this cellar?” the drunk asked as many people around began to take notice and listen in. “We lock you down there until the witching hour,” the shady man said “No one has ever survived and most usually pound furiously on the locked door and scream bloody murder until whatever they’re trying to escape kills them.” The drunk stood up and walked towards the cellar. “Will I learn what fear is?” he asked as the shady man and bartender walked up with him. “That and more. Though few last more than an hour down there,” the shady man said with a smile as he swung the doors open.

There was much cheering for the drunk as he descended the steps down into the dark cellar. He could hear various bets being placed on whether or not he’d survive. He was not afraid though as he continued down the steps saying “If I could but shudder. If I could but shudder.” He looked back up to see the bartender swing the doors shut and lock them, just as he heard the village church bell ring once.

The cellar was dark and there was a dripping noise somewhere. The drunk felt around until he found a candle, which he lit. When the room lit up the drunk heard a loud wailing like someone was being tortured. “What is that noise?” the drunk asked wishing it would stop because he found it annoying. “Who is wailing. Come show yourself!” he called.

With that a ghost materialized right in front of him and continued wailing. “What is wrong that makes you wail so?” the drunk asked a he took out some of his mind altering herbs and started smoking. “I’m going to strangle you!” the ghost screamed. “That’s not very nice.” the drunk said as he blew smoke towards the ghost. “Die!” the ghost screamed and made for the drunk’s neck, but he quickly dodged and walked towards the other end of the cellar with his candle in hand. “You can just sit in the dark if you don’t want to play nice,” he said as he continued to smoke. The ghost tried a few more times to strangle the drunk but kept failing, mainly because it was catching a second hand high and was easily distracted now.

The ghost soon became too lazy to try to kill the drunk and was now more hungry than anything else for some reason. Without a word it floated through a wall. When all the commotion ceased, the cellar door unlocked and the shady man stuck his head through to see. “Still alive are we?” he asked to which the drunk responded. “Yes, but I still haven’t learned what fear is.” The shady man laughed. “Don’t worry.” he said “You will. Few last an hour, and only the bravest last two.” the shady man they closed and locked the door, leaving the drunk alone again as the village church bell rang twice.

For a while it was silent and the drunk could only watch his candle melt. He felt sleep coming upon him just as a loud crash sounded from a door on the opposite side of the cellar. Shaking sleep from his eyes, the drunk wondered what could possibly be behind that door. He walked over to the door and opened it, and something large jumped out and pushed him to the ground as it passed.

The drunk got up and looked to see that it was a werewolf that had been behind the door. It was covered in thick black fur and had blood dripping from its fangs. “Awe, good doggy!” the drunk said to which the werewolf bellowed out a long howl which would cause any man’s blood to run cold, except the drunk only laughed and wondered “Do you know any tricks?”

The werewolf only growled and tried to bite the drunk. Annoyed, the drunk kicked away the werewolf before it could bite him. “If you can’t play nice, then forget it.” he said. With that he grabbed the werewolf by the tail and tossed him back through the door and closed it. The werewolf tried to break though, but the drunk had propped his body against the door and didn’t budge. Eventually, the wolf gave up and left the drunk alone.

The shady man opened the door and slowly looked down. “Are you dead yet?” he asked. “No!” the drunk called up “And there still isn’t anything to fear down here!” The shady man only laughed. “Patience and you’ll find fear. Few last an hour down here, only the bravest last two, but no one survives all three hours!” The shady man then disappeared and closed the cellar door.

The village church bell rang three time in the distance. The drunk sat alone in the dark as his candle melted down and extinguished. “If I could but shudder. If I could but shudder.” he said to himself until he felt something grab his foot. He looked down to see hands reaching up from the dirt floor of the cellar. “What the hell?” he said as he stepped back and watch a dozen zombies pull themselves up from underground and surround him.

“Who are you?” the drunk asked, annoyed by his unwelcome guests. “We are who came before you,” one zombie said “And now we come to eat your brains!” With that the zombies closed in to eat the young drunk. “I don’t think so.” the drunk said “I don’t think I’ll enjoy being eaten and besides, I’ve come here to learn fear and you zombies aren’t helping.”

The zombies ignored him and moved in to kill the drunk, who was quite angry at this point and started punching the zombies in the face. The decaying zombie heads didn’t hold up long to the drunks punching and soon all the zombies were dead. The drunk even took the time to put them all back underground where they came from.

The cellar door was opened, and the drunk emerged alive and well, and there was much rejoicing. Much money was exchanged as result from the before mentioned bar bets that were made. The young drunk drank up and later coupled with a young woman who decided to give him a special reward for his bravery.

This would be the end of the story except for the fact that the drunk still did not learn what fear was. This problem was remedied a couple weeks later when that woman he coupled with returned to him and uttered four simple words. These words shuttered the young drunk down to the bone and filled him with such fear and despair that he ran screaming from the village and never returned. These four words were:

“I missed my period.”

April 10, 2011

The L-Word

[...Posted by Ted H]

Pretty sure if I changed the locks to the house, none of the other authors would notice. Havent heard much from anyone else either, maybe they were assassinated. Like we would go on to dominate the world and someone went back in time to make sure that it wouldnt happen. So until further notice: Bree, Ry, Will and Allie are prolly dead and NOT just lazy. On that note, Im gonna go rig a shotgun to my door and window. Wont that ruin the day for my would be assassinator?
Guess Ill throw a want ad in the paper tomorrow as well...

WANTED: 3 or 4 unknown talented writers with aspirations to be a legit writer and serve with me when I conquer the world. No real skills needed aside from the ability to write and also turn a blind eye to my "evil" ways. Must work well when people are trying to kill you. Send resume, attached info and cover letter to my e-mail with the subject "I want to write/rule the world under you"

...Anyway, this week Ive decided to change things up a bit. Technically this would qualify as a play, since Ive certainly wrote it as such. Either way, the piece was based off of a true conversation I had a couple years back. The below is about 40% true to the events and 60% made up. Ill let you guess which parts are which.

More of a conversation than a play, but whatever. 3 characters having a Seinfeld-like conversation. Enjoy...


[The L-Word]

[Setting: Diner, mid afternoon. HANK enters and sits in a booth next to GARY and across from DEREK]

HANK: Sup, ladies.

GARY: Hey.

DEREK: …Yeah.

HANK: Problem?

DEREK: What?

HANK: You look troubled.

DEREK: It’s nothing.

HANK: Bull. Lets hear it.

DEREK: No…It…It’s personal.


DEREK: I don’t really want to talk about it.

HANK: *Looks over at GARY then back at DEREK* Obviously not too personal if you were telling Gary about it.

DEREK: What makes you think I told Gary anything?

HANK: Cuz Gary wouldn’t be so quiet. He loves gossip, especially the personal kind. Him not chiming in with me means you already told him. So why not me?

DEREK: It’s not that simple.

GARY: Just tell him, man.

DEREK: Why? I don’t want to be one of those people who goes around letting everyone around know about my personal baggage. I told you, that’s already enough.

HANK: And you’re still apparently pouting about it, meaning whatever baggage you have, Gary didn’t do much good for.

DEREK: No, I’m dropping this. Right now.

HANK: Just look at it this way, I’ll be gone in another couple weeks. Your secret will be safe with me.

GARY: Where you going?

HANK: Jail.

DEREK: What did you do?

HANK: What didn’t I do? But this isn’t about me, this is about you Derek. What’s the problem?

DEREK: I don’t know about-

GARY: *cutting in on DEREK* His girlfriend said the L word.

HANK: Is that all.

DEREK: This isn’t some small thing! She blind sighted me. One minute we’re talking about the restaurant I was taking her to, then out of nowhere, BAM! “I love you”

HANK: What did you say back?


HANK: She says she loves you, how did you respond?

DEREK: I…I didn’t.

HANK: Wait…You mean-

GARY: *cutting in* Yeah. He froze.

HANK: Seriously?

DEREK: Yeah. This is a problem now. She…well, she isn’t too happy.

HANK: Just say it back. Problem solved.

DEREK: It’s not that simple.

HANK: Yes it is. You’re just making it difficult.

DEREK: Oh yeah? I’d like to see you pull that off.

HANK: I love you too. See? Now you say it.

DEREK: Gary, back me up.

GARY: Dude, we can all say it right now. The trick is doing it when the pressures on.

HANK: I never said you had to mean it.

DEREK: See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you wouldn’t be serious.

HANK: Get your panties out of a wad and listen. Women are too emotional for their own good. They either love or hate in a relationship. A middle ground does not exist. The only question is how long they can keep from vocalizing their emotions. How long have you two been “official”?

DEREK: Uh….few weeks? Maybe a month?

HANK: Fuck man, she vocalizes her love now?

GARY: Yeah man. You’d be better off just cutting her loose now before she gets too crazy?

HANK: That’s your advice? Derek chooses you as a confidant and that’s the advice you give? Jesus. Derek, don’t do that. Emotional woman like that, she'll stab you in the penis in your sleep. Liable to keep it as a souvenir as her “love for you” or something.

GARY: Be serious.

HANK: Sorry. She’ll just shove it up your ass instead. Crazy women can hate you out loud just as easily as they love you.

DEREK: So what do I do?

HANK: Well, her crazy is at a dangerous level. And you freezing in the headlights isn’t exactly helping your cause either. Like I said though, all you have to do is lie to her.

GARY: Even if he lies, an emotional woman like her? She might see through it.

HANK: True. She calls shenanigans on that, she might rip your balls out on principle.

DEREK: Could we come up with a scenario where my groin doesn’t suffer in some horrible way?

HANK: We need you to say it and not men it, while still meaning it.

GARY: Yeah. We need you to practice. A lot. Like, why aren’t you practicing right now?

HANK: Nah, we don’t have the time.

DEREK: Time?

HANK: You need to play damage control. It’s possible for you to practice this and master it, but not soon enough.

GARY: Just do your best.

DEREK: I don’t know about this. I’ve already pissed her off over this once. If I fuck up my “lie” that might be too much for her to overlook.

HANK: True.

GARY: So we need you to sound sincere.

HANK: Do you love your mom?

DEREK: Of coarse.

HANK: Ok, just imagine your mom.

DEREK: I doubt that would work the same.

HANK: Better than nothing.

GARY: We’ll call that plan B.

DEREK: Then we need a better plan A.

HANK: When are you seeing her again?

DEREK: Tonight.

HANK: Well fuck, man, that doesn’t leave us much time.

DEREK: It’ll be fine. She might not bring it up.

GARY: And if she does?

HANK: We need to tackle this from another angle.

DEREK: Like what?

HANK: Music.

GARY: I don’t think quoting a song will work.

DEREK: I’d try anything at this point.

HANK: Shut up. You like Rise Against, right?

DEREK: Uh…yeah.

HANK: So if I asked if you love or hate their music, you’d say…

DEREK: I guess love?

HANK: How about Offspring?

DEREK: Not so much.

HANK: No. Either love or hate, straight up.

DEREK: Ok…love.

HANK: Breaking Benjamin?

DEREK: Love.


DEREK: Hate.

HANK: Green Day.

DEREK: Love.

GARY: I bet, faggot.

HANK: Hush.

GARY: Is this going anywhere?

HANK: Yeah. Derek, how about U2?

DEREK: Love.

GARY: Are you done with favorite band?

HANK. Shut up. So Derek, remembering out last exercise, If I asked your opinion about Green Day, you’d say?

DEREK: I…I love Green Day?

HANK: Exactly. How about Breaking Benjamin?

DEREK: Love em.

HANK: You what?

DEREK: Um…I love Breaking Benjamin.

GARY: Heh, you love Benjamin?

HANK: Rise Against?

DEREK: Love Rise Against.

HANK: How about U2.

DEREK: Love U2.

HANK: Again.


HANK: Just say it again.

DEREK: I love U2?

GARY: Holy shit…

HANK: One more time, nice and slow.

DEREK: Ok…I love U- HOLY SHIT! I love U2!

HANK: Now you can mean it when you say it, without actually meaning what you say.

GARY: Is that really gonna work?

HANK: Best he can do without actually loving her.

DEREK: Wow. This might actually work!

HANK: Now go get ready for your date.

DEREK: Sure…See you guys later.

[Exit DEREK]

GARY: Do you really think that’ll work?

HANK: Good lord no. He’s fucked.

GARY: Why would you…

HANK: They’re gonna break up either way. At least this way is funnier.

GARY: Nice.

April 3, 2011


[...Posted by Ted H]

Gonna be quick on this. As I type, Im also playing Mass Effect 2. Ive got my guy sitting at a bar, pounding shots until I finish here...currently hes downed about a few dozen and he cant be too far from passing out, let alone shoot a gun strait.



Lying here since your passing
eyes blindly toward the sky
resurrect at the hint of your presence,
infinite rise with so few words
taken down by just an action
a constant reminder of who you are,
left deeper now from anticipation
resoundingly darker than before
and yet,
do it again, since we’re both willing.