I’m super pleased to announce that my story, “The Letter,” is included in this tremendously horrific anthology!
THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY WOMEN OF HORROR ANTHOLOGY VOLUME THREE KANDISHA PRESS
What doesn’t kill me, might make me kill you!
30 women authors from around the world were challenged to write about The One That Got Away. Here you’ll find tales of unrequited love, blind dates gone wrong, stalkers and their prey, cursed guitars, alien symbiotes, sinister letters, and bitter acts of revenge. Dive into murky depths and discover what hides inside the minds of women scorned..
Book 3 in the Kandisha Press Women of Horror Anthology Series
Welcome to Faulty Advice Friday! This is the place to get your toughest questions answered.
Lydia,
My kids always freak out around Christmas. The closer it gets, the more ramped up they get. My parents used to tell my Santa wasn’t coming, but that doesn’t seem to be working. How can I get them to knock it off?
SlAy_Belle
Welcome, SlAy_Belle, sorry to hear you’re dealing with some incredibly hyped up yule-lads. But tis the season, eh?🎄👻
I know you’ve mentioned you’ve offered vague, and most likely empty, threats of Santa not heading down your chimney. I’m sure you’ve told them that before, and without fail, you caved and Santa was allowed to distribute his gifts to all—stop me if I’m wrong. (I’m not, cuz I never am, ofc.🤣)
Sometimes, you’ve got to fight fire with fire. By this, I mean learn everything you can about the creatures who still roam through the minds of Europeans, using their collective creep factors to keep the yule-tide gay. Although, we like to believe living on a merit system—do good get rewards, blah blah blah—rarely does that end up working without providing the consequences.
There’s actually a being sometimes jokingly referred to as the Anti-Claus; although, he’s a bit of his own sorta monstrosity. This demon creeps through towns and sneaking into the homes of particularly awfully behaved chit-linz, and poppin’ em in the basket/cage on his back (perhaps as a snack for later). He delights in the whole flogging with a birch stick and has been known to leave coal in some situations. This intense monstrosity is none other than, Krampus. Guaranteed to scare your munchkins straight!
I can understand not being sure if you want to go to such lengths though. Sometimes scaring little ones can lead to late nights consoling their nightmares. Now, before you decide to investigate the Christmassy things that go bump in the night, make sure you’re prepared for whatever happens next. (Bed sharing, crying, etc.)
If you feel your tots are a bit too tater to hear about the horned beast who would happily accept them as their dinner, you can always take something of a more, guantanamo, approach.
All the infighting will give you a migraine, but you want to get into the Christmas spirit. Tie the kids to one another like they’re spies in your favorite series, but don’t just use any old rope-like thing you have laying about the house—use, the string lights. 😈
Once the Santa’s-elf-wannabe’s are secure, pop on your Santa hat and press play on that Christmas classic, All I Want for Christmasis You, by Mariah Carey. As those first couple notes begin to ring out, you’ll notice the eyes widening and the squirming begin to slow. Since they are in fact, children, it may take a few seconds longer for them to register exactly what level of Hell they’ve landed in. Be sure to proudly proclaim that this is what happens when they act up. Sing and dance around them while tossing strings of sparkly tinsel over them.
The beauty of this is that you’ll get your frustration out, have your own thing party, and for the first time in weeks, your kids will be silent. (O holy night!)
If they don’t learn their lesson from this, nothing short of throwing the whole kid away and starting again will work.
Either way, stay safe SlAy_Belle, and happy holidays! 😍
The Ladies of Horror Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
Freddie Promised by Lydia Prime
Freddie always promised that he’d be home in time for supper. He crossed his heart and hoped to die as his mommy waved him off. He’d hop on his bike and head for the hills, knowing he’d need to return when the lights came on.
Freddie made his same promise every afternoon, and always made it home as the food was being served. His mommy would smile her odd crooked smile. Freddie said grace, and held his mommy’s hand for just a few moments longer each day.
The following day, the pair continued their routine, crossed hearts and sad waves. Freddie’s mommy made a special meal, peppering the pie with a hearty helping of arsenic. A double scoop, she thought, adding some to her own plate, just to get the job done.
The front door flew open. A blurry version of Freddie ran in, excited to say grace and see his mommy. He washed up and sat at the table, the biggest grin plastered on his face. Hungrier than usual, he sneaked a bit of bread. When his mommy sat down, he presented her with a simple bouquet of wildflowers. She teared up and tried to snatch his plate away, not realizing that it was too late.
Freddie’s mother watched her son while his mouth foamed and he painfully faded away. Panic, regret, guilt—fear overtook her. She screamed at Freddie, begging him to wake.
“Mommy?” Freddie’s voice called from the porch, his ghostly figure peering in through the window. Surprised, his mommy ran to the window, wailing and apologizing. .
Time flew by, and although she aged, Freddie didn’t. He’d become a permanent fixture in her cowardly world. Eventually, her heart grew cold, and she began to resent his memory. But, some promises are bigger, more important than one could ever fathom. Freddie kept his promise, and he always came home for supper.
Step through the prettiest cemetery gates you’ve ever seen and experience tombstone raves and widow’s dances, Japanese snow-spirits, Aztec bruja and temple goddesses, vengeful ghosts, djinn and cannibals, vampire hunters, plague bearers, graverobbers, and terrors beyond reason. Read through the night as the dead rise from boneyards all around the world!
#FRIGHTGIRLSUMMER recommended reading!
Featuring chilling tales from:
Christy Aldridge
Carmen BacaDemi-Louise Blackburn
R.A. Busby
V. Castro
Dawn DeBraal
Ellie Douglas
Tracy Fahey
Dona Fox
Cassidy Frost
Michelle Renee Lane
Beverley Lee
J.A.W. McCarthy
Catherine McCarthy
Susan McCauley
Ksenia Murray
Ally Peirse
Janine Pipe
Lydia Prime
Paula R.C. Readman
Yolanda Sfetsos
Sonora Taylor
Edited by Jill Girardi
With foreword by Doc Holocausto (Evilspeak Magazine, Harvest Ritual, Creepy Crawls)
Welcome to Faulty Advice Friday! This is the place to get your toughest questions answered.
Lydia,
This year has suckd. Now I have to go to some family dinners. How can I distract my relatives from asking me personal stuff?
Aunty_Social_x3
Salutations, Aunty_Social_x3! I couldn’t agree with you more—this year has had a picnic full of ants being chased by anteaters being chased by rabid wolverine-alligator hybrids. When most people meditate, I imagine they look for a calming peace, I personally try to channel my spirit animal: the home badger.
The wise and powerful honey badger, not giving a shit, and dancing like nobody’s watching. Why? Because he don’t give no shits. #myhero
I don’t know if you’re aware, but honey badgers don’t give a shit. As… You might be able to see from the above gif. Anywho, onto your family’s shin-diggity-do!
I do know the pain of enduring a family function you just can’t seem to get behind. Whether it’s because of the toxic grandfather flatulent smoke screen, or a generalized sense of not belonging—have no fear.
There are only 3 legitimately proven ways to prevent your family members from over stepping their bounds. The first of which involves a blowtorch. Now, I am clearly, obviously, very qualified to explain how you need to set up a spectacular pyro technics show to impress and keep everyone talking for ages to come. So, with that in mind, make sure you place the fireworks in a pattern that will send them all flying directly toward the house. If there’s an open window that you think you can score one flying through… Don’t you dare hold back now. Make sure you get into the living room and tuck them into the curtains. Since you’re putting on a show, why not make sure you set some up behind the television? No one will see that coming!
Once you have all of your fireworks/sparklers—and matches if your trying for the desperado effect—grab onto that blowtorch. Light ’em all up in the most reckless way possible. No one else is going to pull out all the stops to create an amazing atmosphere, you’re doing them a favor. While the whistling, whizzing, shimmering wonders are exploding all around, get your phone out and start recording. You’ll never want to forget the looks on their faces. 😲😈😉 As everyone is rushing out to get a handle on what is actually going on, you can slip away undetected. Trust me when I say, you’ll never have to worry about the uncomfortable comments again.
Option numero dos: The Shadow Game. Select one person in the room to emulate at all times. It doesn’t matter who it is, but the less similarities the two of you share, the more entertainment you’ll have! You’ll want to mimic every move they make, from a light cough, to shifting in their seat, to of course, what they say. When you’re up to repeating what they say, you have to be certain not to use any words that person has not yet used. For example: I’m emulating my Uncle Rob, Rob has only said “Heyya, Happy Happy! Now, where’s that damn freezer box? Did you see the game? John Travolta has a strange chin.” If anyone speaks to me, or I want to say something, I can only use those words/phrases/combinations. In my case, they’d be about to find out I’ve finally come to the conclusion that yes, I am in fact, “Happy John Travolta, the strange box chin.”
This should keep you entertained for as long as you choose to go on. No one will figure you out, and by the end of the night you’ll either become some sort of king, or have completely alienated yourself. I believe in you, Aunty_Social_x3.
It’s okay if you don’t believe in yourself, that’s what our third and final option will accomplish. Seems to me that you’re mighty miserable and often hide away—keeping to yourself and acting stand offish. No matter how badly you want to let go and be part of the fun, you simply can’t get in the swing. Fair enough. The five minute rule is the one you need. Arrive fashionably late, allow each family member 5 minutes with you. Sometimes you can get lucky and walk into a packed room. Hang out for five minutes, fake your smiles, switch rooms, 5 minutes, excuse yourself, one more room. Have they all seen you? If yes, remember the bottle of wine/soda/bushel of kale/midget in clown makeup/whatever in your car (whether you drove or not). Let them know you’ll be back soon and head out. No need to return, they won’t notice since you said hello to everyone already. If your answer was no, and there are more rooms to slip into, make sure you do that. When completed, get a fake call in from work. No one will question the call, “We’ve all been there!” In order to really sell it, apologize profusely for the abruptness before you d I s a p p e a r .
No matter which you choose, stay safe, and happy Friday, Aunty_Social_x3! 😍
Welcome to Faulty Advice Friday! This is the place to get your toughest questions answered.
Lydia,
I’m having an existential crisis since I hit 20. I need to know, why does anything exist?
B0RNiNTHEWR0NGjEN
Ahhhh, Friday the 13th! Hope you have all of the black cats, open ladders, and at least one cracked mirror as you travel through today, B0RNiNTHEWR0NGjEN!
I’m not sure if I should be offended or just glaze by the fact that you turned T-W-E-N-T-Y and are questioning existence… wait till you find out that I’m older than Google.
B0RNiNTHEWR0NGjEN finding out that I, am in fact, older than Google.
Why does anything exist? I honestly would love to know that answer myself – but since you asked I’ll give it my best shot. Strap into your booster seat and get ready for some truth!
Trying to ask the big questions, those ones that buzz around in your brain and keep you up through the wee hours of the morning – that’s some real grown up shit, and I’m proud of ya, B0RN. Being a grown up also means accepting the hard to swallow pills (that as a child were fed to you in a particularly yummy liquid bubblegum flavor). Most of those pills work somewhat like getting through the Matrix or following the Yellow Brick Road all the way to Emerald City – you shouldn’t look too hard. Spending hours trying to figure out what the man behind the curtain was doing all along, well, as grown ups, the magic fades and there’s a lingering sense of disappointment. Save yourself the trouble, don’t peek behind the curtain…Or… do… but it might just be the last thing you ever see.
If you try to think of it more like a dream, not my dreams though, because those are really weird. Especially the ones with the poodles *shudders*. You’ll find out that everything you do makes no difference, you have no free will – and if you choose to do the less fun, more tame option with your path – there’s another version of you out there who’s living it up and having the best time of your lives. Oh, did I forget to mention the never ending combinations of alternate realities? Yes, yes, while you, here in this one, age and get wrinkles, and wither and die – there’s another more attractive and young version of you currently taking a shot out of the navel of a dwarf. (Man, I wish I knew that version… err… uhm… carry on.)
I find most things that tangibly exist, do so simply to annoy something else. Seriously though, if you think I’m wrong, try to look at it like this:
Trees ⭢ Lumber Jacks
Life ⭢ Emo Kids
Older Siblings ⭢ Younger Siblings
Sleep ⭢ Alarm Clocks
Paycheck ⭢ Bills
I could go on for a while, but I think you get my point. You, me, and every other thing on this Earth is here just to cause agitation to external forces around us. We’re probably just a really strange DLC that was created for that game, The Sims. Honestly, in what rational, logical world is there: a cartoon that’s better at fortune telling than Miss Cleo, a Tiger King who has several methed out husbands that just hang around for the tigers and crazy, Carol Fuckin Baskins on dancing with the stars after butchering Don Lew- err, I mean, 50 Cent’s smash hit, In da Club; Murder Hornets(?!?!?), and *cringe* worst of all, people who don’t like pumpkin spice?
I think I just blew my own mind with that last one…
Why do things exist? Probably because somewhere, someone’s mom said so, and that was that.
Why do you exist specifically? Could be a number of things. Maybe you’ll cure cancer, or end racism. Perhaps you’ll get Alf off his diet of kittens after all these years. Maybe, just maybe, because your parents had sex and the condom broke. No matter the reason, I strongly recommend you stop trying to figure it out. It’s just going to give us both a migraine.
By the by, while we’re going over some of the super serious stuff, let me be the first to tell you: when you turn 21, you stop existing if your eyes are closed. So never, ever ever, never, blink ever again – or P-O-O-F!
OH! and PS, stay away from lakes, camps, hockey, machetes, crazy mothers, and deceased children. (I’m sure you won’t get this right away, but better safe than sorry, eh?)
Just over a week ago, I’d joined my fiance, his brother and a few friends for some drinks at a local bar. While there, we couldn’t help but notice when a man walked up with his incredibly adorable pup.
Rick Young poses with his pupper, Noelle, while we speak about rescues and writing.
He was seated at a table near us and our tables quickly made jokes back and forth about the music. I’m not entirely sure how much time had passed, but being on the chillier side, we decided we needed to try getting a spot indoors. While we awaited the OK to snag a table upstairs, I excused myself from the tented dining area to smoke a cigarette in the shadows (like the creepy night creature I am). I saw my group of people trickle out of the tent and up the steps to the warmer tables.
My fiance was more than happy to wait while I got my nicotine fix so that he could pet the doggie. Turns out our new friend not only shared a love of fuzzy goofballs, but he was also a writer!
Rick Young was happy to tell us about the piece he’d written for a book about rescue animals, and his journey with Noelle, his lovely companion. Find out their story and many others in the book below:
Lost Souls: Found! Inspiring Stories about Dogs Volume 3
Like Volumes I and II, Lost Souls: FOUND! Inspiring Stories About Dogs, Vol. III is full of fantastic, heartwarming stories about dogs who have been rescued and adopted. While a wide variety of stories are included, this book has a special focus on older dogs, herding-type dogs, and northern-type dogs.
Welcome to Faulty Advice Friday! This is the place to get your toughest questions answered.
Lydia,
There’s a lot of things I want to do… too many plans to fit in just one lifetime. Do you have any advice to make more of every day?
lookingforvampires
Howdy LookingForVampires!
It always feels like time is running out, that 24 hours are simply not enough for us to get anything accomplished. The best way I’ve found to get more for my money (so to speak), is to ruin somebody’s day.
As we all know, life is a race of sorts. You’re only as good as the last Johnson you surpassed. When you do something like, pushing a baby pram into the street, or pouring old hot dog water out of your 4th story window and onto an unsuspecting passerby—you effectively rig the game in your favor. That unfortunate person will have to go to the hospital (like a punk) or chase a runaway stroller into heavy traffic. Now their day is shot, and you get to feel like you’ve accomplished more than they ever will today!
Some people, however, find they don’t quite have the stomach for such a hands on approach. Try hitting up the nearest cryogenic lab! You can definitely freeze yourself until science catches up and finds a way to replace your guts. (Or you know, we get some sort of ability to double the time in a day.) Now, LookingForVampires, I know what you’re thinking. “Lydia, how could I afford such a complex and extravagant process?” Well now, we actually have two options. One, wait until they close down for the day, hide in a lobby plant if you must, then sneak in and climb into one of the currently inhabited cubicles. Don’t worry, your new roommate won’t even know you’re there. If you’d prefer something more solitary, head out and grab yourself a big ol’ meat locker. Hook it up and get that temp to a nice freezing level. Hop in, and wait it all out!
I, personally, don’t believe I’d have the patience for being frozen. I’m very much an instant gratification sort of gal. If you’re like me, you’ll want a more expedient option. Start at least 75 projects within 3 days. You have no obligation to complete any of them, just starting them should be able to provide that needed fix of getting the most of your time. As deadlines arrive, spend about 15 minutes completing something in a half-assed manner. BAM! Two months later and you’re an astronaut trainee who also puts out fires, dances the merengue, has pickle shots, and knows the basics of how to change a horse shoe. Those titles alone sound preeeettttyy snazzy.
Of course, we are in the midst of 2020, however close to the end we may be. I think embracing depression might be a plausible solution. Instead of actually doing the things, take a whole lot of naps. Dream that you’ve done the things—who’s going to say you haven’t? How do you know dream you isn’t the real you, and because that you is just so busy, all they can do is dream about what their humdrum life could be—if they weren’t out being amazing?
No matter how you choose to broaden your day, you should try to remember that there are groups that can help you extend your lifetime. Hit up that awesome bro of bro’s, Xenu and see what they have to say. Perhaps, if you’re so lucky, you can get some readings, and even a billion year contract. At least then you’ll know you’ll be back to get on with certain activities and goals you missed the first time.
One last thought before I let you go. Maybe head over to Alaska. I believe they have an extended period of night that spans quite a while. I noticed that you’re “Looking for Vampires,” what better place to seek out the eternally undead than a night filled land? Becoming one with the legion of blood suckers might just be the most ideal option for you!
Stay curious, LookingForVampires, and please, if you choose the first option, remember to keep a diary of all your deeds. Looking over them will help you see how much you really want did do, and you know, help the cops with their investigation should you cause too much of a problem.
The Ladies of Horror Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!
Pallor Mortis by Lydia Prime
“Hearts beat to Death’s rhythm,” that’s what Callie always said. “Life supplied the instruments, content to watch while Death conducted tremendous symphonies of decay. Life, you see,” she’d tell me, “is far more insidious than we’re led to believe.”
I never understood what she was trying to say. It felt like almost completing a puzzle, but the box was missing a piece. Still, I loved to listen to her, no matter what she said—it always sounded smart.
We used to sneak out at night, riding our bikes as far as our legs and lungs would let us. She was my best friend, and when we were alone in the moonlight, I saw her face, the uncensored version. Callie was a sad girl who’d unlocked the secrets of the universe. She had tear stained cheeks and torn up lips that never had a chance to heal.
“Mila, it’s coming soon.” She whispered, “they think I’m almost ready.” A weak smile cracked her sullen face as she held my hand. “But don’t worry, it won’t happen to you.”
Her grip tightened and I tried to speak, but fell short. Although I didn’t know what she meant, and wanted with my whole heart to understand this time, a sudden mourning wrapped us both, and we sat in the tall grass till the sun rose.
I never saw her again. I missed my friend for ages and never stopped thinking about the finality of her last words to me. Each morning I questioned what she was protecting me from, and each night, I’d hope she was happier now. Tonight, was no different. I settled into bed with our childhood memories swimming through my mind.
“Mila.” A hushed voice called through the winds, “Mila.” Flurries of dried leaves blew through my window. It was Callie, I knew it was.
“The grass,” more whispering.
I raced to the window, breath caught in my throat, hoping I wasn’t imagining things. A woman stood on the sidewalk, her back to me. “The grass,” the woman pointed toward the thicket before her. She never turned to look at me, but I’d recognize those jet-black locks anywhere. Her voice carried gently in the chilly autumn air, “Milaaaa.” She headed for the wood, not waiting for a reply.
Goosebumps tingled as they formed over my body—something was wrong. I didn’t know what exactly, but something rotten was coming from the young girl I used to know.
I took a chance, throwing on whatever shoes were nearest and sprinted after her. She called my name again as she disappeared between the trees. She was guiding me to the place we’d last seen each other. While I knew where she was going, the path seemed darker than it used to. I held my arms close to my chest and stepped carefully, doing my best to avoid the littering of twigs and dried leaves. Making noise now felt wrong.
When I reached the meadow, I saw her standing impossibly far off. Her complexion lacked any pigment, as if she’d become translucent. Her frosted blue eyes glistened in the moonlight. They pierced through me, penetrating my mind. Callie didn’t speak, she didn’t move. My head felt fuzzy while she added the missing puzzle pieces.
Her talks became clear: all the warnings and sorrows.
I saw her nervously return home, greeted by her family who immediately whisked her to their self-made basement. They left her there, without food or drink for several days. My heart wretched; her panic consumed me. I listened while she sobbed, begging and bargaining for reprieve.
As the final morning arrived, they granted it. Her parents and siblings stood around her. Limbs tied and over extended with strange symbols drawn above them. They chanted in guttural tones, calling to sacred unseen forces. When Callie pleaded for them to stop, they chanted louder. Her face was beet red and drenched in sweat, she struggled against the binds to no avail. Hopeless, she simply wished for Life to let go. And let go, it did.
No more struggling, just quiet. The family’s erratic behavior stilled; they watched with baited breath while Callie’s chest ceased expanding. The youngest untied her wrists as he’d been told, while her sister released her ankles. Quickly they returned to their places among the others, continuing to await their master.
Callie’s fingers twitched; her light eyes flicked open.
I gasped, overwhelmed by the unfolding nightmare.
Her body rose, head hanging limply against her chest. “You called?” Different octaves of her voice sounded in unison.
Her father started to speak, he intended to be the first to address their Lord, but before he could utter a single syllable, he was cut off.
Callie spoke again, answering herself, “Ah, yes. I see. Consider yourself relieved.” Her neck snapped, jerking her head upright. Crystal eyes aglow and streams of blood leaked from the corners of her mouth.
The circle that surrounded her realized their mistake—they had been forsaken. Her mother was the first to attempt an escape, she was also the first to scream. One by one, they each cried out in pain—in fear, it didn’t matter anymore. Callie reveled in her shrieking chorus. Life had excused her from the torment she was undergoing, but Death, well, Death was ready for a new song.
Flayed alive; layers removed in coils, stripping the meat from their bones. They watched. They begged. They created new sounds that Death had never fathomed, and Death had heard them all. When there were no other ghastly chords to extract from the participants, Callie vanished. Her family left to decompose in their dank cellar; spoiled cadavers trapped with eternal screaming.
The smell of wet grass thrust me back to the wood. Callie was closer now; I could see her flesh cracking, and smell the odorous sludge as it dripped from her festering maw. She grimaced; her jerky movements frightened me. “Callie?” I murmured.
She gripped my shoulder tight, her slender fingers dug deep into my bones. My eyes watered from the sting.
“Callie, please.” I whimpered.
My friend had been gone a long time; it seemed Life and Death were craving another melody.
Step through the prettiest cemetery gates you’ve ever seen and experience tombstone raves and widow’s dances, Japanese snow-spirits, Aztec bruja and temple goddesses, vengeful ghosts, djinn and cannibals, vampire hunters, plague bearers, graverobbers, and terrors beyond reason. Read through the night as the dead rise from boneyards all around the world!
#FRIGHTGIRLSUMMER recommended reading!
Featuring chilling tales from:
Christy Aldridge
Carmen BacaDemi-Louise Blackburn
R.A. Busby
V. Castro
Dawn DeBraal
Ellie Douglas
Tracy Fahey
Dona Fox
Cassidy Frost
Michelle Renee Lane
Beverley Lee
J.A.W. McCarthy
Catherine McCarthy
Susan McCauley
Ksenia Murray
Ally Peirse
Janine Pipe
Lydia Prime
Paula R.C. Readman
Yolanda Sfetsos
Sonora Taylor
Edited by Jill Girardi
With foreword by Doc Holocausto (Evilspeak Magazine, Harvest Ritual, Creepy Crawls)
Welcome to Faulty Advice Friday! This is the place to get your toughest questions answered.
Lydia,
I loathe both political parties and want to secede from the union. How should I go about extricating my small spread from the insanity that has taken over the country?
Jake
Happy Cabbage Night (day?) Jake! 🎃 I have to admit, this is quite the loaded question, but if not now, when?
Wanting to secede from the union isn’t all that uncommon actually. Many have done it before, believe it or not, and you can too! If you’re like me, you may not have been aware that seceding from the union doesn’t actually mean that you have to get your whole state involved. Secession can be a group of like minded beings who bounce on the traditional to make a new territory.
Now that we’ve covered the finer details, I have to admit that it took me a moment to find the most proper way to help you. Initially, my instinct was to help you achieve the impossible pre-pubescent teenage boy’s dream: become invisible. In theory, you would be able to live happily and quite free, with the added bonus of getting to venture through locker rooms for your own enjoyment. Unfortunately, I realized that if you aren’t actually part of that super elite 1%, you’re already rocking a cloak of invisibility. (No worries though, me too, and we look daaaamn good, potato sack and all!)
I’m sure at this point we’re probably preeeettty eye to eye on what my next thought HAD to be, “Man, assassination attempts are seriously under utilized in today’s society. Ho-hum.”
And if you weren’t, well, Jake, if that is your real name, I don’t even know who you are anymore! Let’s just be honest here, who in this country is NOT addicted to massive tragedies that are followed up by life long conspiracies?
Exactly. I hear those crickets just as loud as you do. I mean, look, you’d not only have a family legacy that stalks your lineage for generations (infamy is like chlamydia, the gift that keeps on giving), BUT! You’d escape the hum drum of today’s ridiculousness.
As ill advised as that might be… No, no. We seriously cannot.
After a period of inner reflection, I realized you had the power all along! What can you do to successfully pack up your things and get outta dodge? Drugs.
You’re going to need to locate your local rave children and hoodlums; my best guess during our trying time, check out the COVID party. I hear they’re often held on the second floor of the Chicken Pox party, and the Polio Pirate’s Hide Away. (Take a left a Blockbuster, you can’t miss it.)
Several of them should have access to the gallons of PCP you’ll be needing. Everyone has their own taste however, so it doesn’t have to be PCP, dealer’s choice!
Once you’ve blown your life savings on the party favors, you’re going to make your way over to the area’s largest water tower and get to mixin’! It may take a few moments to completely blend, but once you can see your future, eh, you’ve done enough.
This is the best method one can use in order to not only save yourself, but also, your friends and neighbors. Believe-you-me, they’re going to be a bit too busy hiding from their imaginary reptile trespassers to worry about all those political reptilians.
And just like that, the entire province will have seceded into their own minds, and since you’ve used an obscene amount of hallucinogens, that should be p e r f e c t .
Just slip into something more comfortable (not a come on Jake, you’ll be thanking me later for advising some sweat pants). Designate a safe place for when the freak outs begin (preferably near an abundance of lava lamps).
Unknown worlds, monstrous beings from nightmarish visions, and even a look at the darker side of life. Brace yourself as you dive into this chilling forty-six piece collection of bite sized horror—you might just end up leaving with more than you bargained for…
Are you sure you want to turn off that light?
Click the image above to be directed to Amazon or check out the links below:
Lapsed Reality 