Part 29 (1/2)

I packed it in the car and drove away not so far.

I buried it near a tree so it would no longer burden me.

Now with the work done I return home to relax as one.

RED PLANET.

by Emon Anthousis.

The mountain shudders and cracks open, spilling blood upon the Earth; The volcanic fluid rises and coagulates, forming four silhouetted riders.

With each cras.h.i.+ng gallop, the ground below quakes and splinters, releasing air as if the Earth screams out in pain. Those nearest are deafened by the echoing roar, and horror ensnares the people who remain.

Like starved zombies, they dash toward Jesus' house, but no one is home. The tidal wave of blood reaches them and their flesh boils away. From the epicenter, shockwaves emanate as a grotesquely colossal arm bursts out. It grabs anything living and drags it under.

Soon no life remains. The disfigured arm retreats beneath the soil and the riders melt back to blood, coating the planet and staining the Earth red. It floats now, empty and barren, with no memory.

About Emon Anthousis.

Emon Anthousis is currently enrolled at the University of South Florida finis.h.i.+ng up a degree in Creative Writing and considering dual majoring in a field outside of English. He decided he wanted to be a writer after finis.h.i.+ng Douglas Adams' Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which is currently his favorite book of all time.

His hobbies include watching movies with friends, reading and writing.

Emon doesn't want to limit himself to one form of written work and is currently beginning work on a fantasy novel and a comic book series about his take on the superhero genre.

/Greekcheeze.

JASON'S LAMENT.

by Dennis Bagwell.

Now you listen to me Rita!

I appreciate all you've done for me, but as my agent, you owe me this I know George Clooney is being considered for this role, but I have given the best thirty years of my life to this industry and it owes me, too You say fans expect me in certain roles and they don't want to see me in a chick flick, but I want this romantic comedy What have I been doing for the last twenty years but making comedies, Rita?

Jason in s.p.a.ce? Do I look like a G.o.dd.a.m.n astronaut to you?

Freddy would never say this to your face, but he was just as disappointed with Freddy vs. Jason as I was You said it would be the ultimate slasher bromance. It stunk, Rita!

What's next? Abbott and Costello meet Jason?

I appreciate the fans, but let's not forget it's the fans that have type-cast me Every time the screenwriters kill me off, I think, ”Great! Now maybe I can try something on Broadway”

Maybe DJ in some clubs for fun Then you negotiate a higher salary for the next piece of c.r.a.p slasher, making it difficult to say no Well, this time I'm putting my machete down!

Can't you even get me spot on Dancing with the Stars?

I mean, have you seen some of the celebrity hacks they get on there?

Not even a guest spot on Law and Order?

It's time to expand my resume to include some more high profile roles; how about a musical? Have you ever heard me sing?

You know, I took this part when I was young and I had only been in Hollywood a few weeks.

I needed the money and I was excited about being in a ”Big Hollywood Production”

If I had known I would be wearing a hockey mask for the next thirty years, I would have pa.s.sed on it, Rita!

I have a daughter who is older than the kids I kill in these movies!

Half the time I can't even find my hockey mask because my son borrows it to play hockey!

Kevin Bacon was in the first movie and he's gone on to a pretty lucrative career When does Jason Voorhees get his moment in the sun?

I had lunch with Michael Myers at Spago last week and I poured my heart out to him like I am to you now You know what he said, Rita?

Absolutely nothing! His silence spoke volumes and we share the same pain I wouldn't be surprised if he moves back to Haddonfield Leatherface already went back to his ranch in Texas. Freddy is working with kids I can't wait for the day when I can wash the blood from this crummy, unforgiving town and retire to Camp Crystal Lake I mean, I'm in great shape, but how much longer am I supposed to still be young enough to hurl an axe with robotic precision across a room?

I'll be fifty years old next month, for Christ's sakes!

You can't possibly have any idea how hard it is for an angry, hockey mask wearing, machete wielding, psychotic, serial killer to pretend he's an actor portraying an angry, hockey mask wearing, machete wielding, psychotic, serial killer I've learned to manage a lot of my anger, but I can only take so much of this c.r.a.p before the bodies start piling up My therapist says this lifestyle isn't conducive to my mental well-being Rita, how can you just lay there and say nothing?

Don't look at me with those glazed-over eyes!

Dammit, Rita, say something!!!

BUGS (for Diana) by Dennis Bagwell Bugs in the vents Bugs in the drain Bugs in my bed Driving me insane Bugs in the closets Bugs in the kitchen Eating my food Without my permission Bugs in the phone Bugs in the halls In the kids room Behind their dolls Bugs in the bathroom Bugs in the garage Following me around Like a creepy entourage Invading my home Like unwanted guests Hiding in the corners Like filthy little pests I hear them in the walls Buzzing in their nest While I lay in my bed There is no quiet rest Laying in the dark Sweating with fear Perhaps while I'm sleeping They'll nest in my ear Or drag me away To their burgeoning hive Becoming their feast While I'm still alive My home is now seething With bugs in every s.p.a.ce I'll grab a few things Then I'll leave this place I think I hear them laughing Their torture goes undaunted A home without people Is all they really wanted PRAYING FOR THE DAWN.

by Dennis Bagwell The sun is almost down, the fog rolling in The moon will rise and mock me from the safety of its celestial perch The creatures of the night will screech, scream and hoot their ugly nocturnal symphonies The vampires will awaken from their earthly graves The undead will shuffle from the woods behind my house The werewolves will howl to signal the beginning of the night's festivities The hounds of h.e.l.l will sniff around my porch and mark their territory I will be waiting quietly in the dark Waiting for some or all of them to get into my house Praying I live to see another day.

Praying for the dawn.

About Dennis Bagwell.

Dennis is a thirty-something, politically incorrect, mad at the world, X Generation, heathen, musician, poet and writer from suburban Orange County, California. Dennis moved to North Georgia in 2007 and is quietly preparing for the inevitable zombie apocalypse. He has been writing in one form or another since high school. His warped rantings and observations about the cesspool of a world we are surviving in keep his spiraling descent into madness at bay.

Dennis has had his poetry published by the League of American Poets, The American Poets Society, 63Channels, Black Petals, Death Head Grin and Word Salad Poetry Magazine. He has released two spoken-word CD's, A Random Litter of Thought (2006) and Paid in Full (2007) on Batteryface Records. A short film of Dennis' poem Hollywood was made available to coincide with the release of Paid in Full.

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THE GHOUL.