Horror Writers Association Member

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

The 2016 Dillon Critter Christmas Letter

Narrated in Morgan Freeman's voice by Quincy
Interjections of frequent harassment by Igor and Yeti
Written in Santa's warm Christmas blood by the cats; Moby, Poe, Fathead, Lily, Petunia, Beepers, Mama, Splave and Shocky

We've decided that each one of us are going to share with you a little bit of what we are thankful for this holiday season, and maybe offer you a Christmas list of crap we want you to buy us. We're not proud. The asshole cats will go first. Why? Well, they won the Yeti toss. I wanted to call HEADS because Yeti has such a big fat skull but nooo...Igor wanted tails. Why do I listen to him? Damn half-breed chug.

Igor the Damn Half Breed Chug

Shocky: What I am thankful for this holiday season is our Savior, the Man with the Plan. President elect, Donald Trump! He's gonna build a wall with his tiny- yet ever so soft hands.

Shocky- Republican

Igor: *sigh* And where will this wall go?

Shocky: Don't you follow political religion? The wall goes all the way to Mexico which is the gateway to hell. That's what Beepers says.

Quincy: Beepers also thinks Satan lives in her sphincter and every time she craps she's birthing shit demons. That's why she won't bury her poop. She's doesn't want them to have to fight their way up from the litter to conquer the world. Stop listening to that crazy-ass cat!
Voice of Reason

Splave: I am thankful for the food bringers. I just wish they would wear gloves when they prepare my food. I know where their disgusting hands have been. And to top it off, they attempt to touch ME with their filthy fingers. But they don't realize their touch is like acid! And it burns, it BURNS!! I need Santa to bring some antibacterial soap.
Splave- Reaching for the Anti-Bacterial Soap

Igor: Maybe Santa has a sack full of therapy for ya, Splave.

Petunia: Psst...wanna know what I'm thankful for this holiday season? Meet me down stairs next to the fresh pile of puke next to the washer. Don't make eye contact with anyone.

Yeti: Quincy, Petunia is selling drugs again down by the puke pile.

Yeti- the Snitch

Petunia: Snitch!!!

Quincy: Shut up you two, we're doing a nice Christmas letter here! Mama, you're up...

Mama: What I'm thankful for this holiday season are the lights. They are sooo pretty. And for sparkly brown crayons and balls of ham.
Mama- Dreaming of Holiday Ham Balls

Quincy: (Shaking his furry head) I'm glad she's got looks because she be stoo-ped.

Beepers: Not thankful. Must...kill....everyone....
Beepers- Homicidal

Quincy: Goddamn it Beepers. You forgot to take your medicine again, didn't you?  Next!

Lily: What I am thankful for this holiday season is the huge hooded litter box smack dab in the living room! Mom was sick of me pooping and peeing on the dog's pee pads on the living room floor and me rolling them in a ball when I'm done- and because I roll them in a ball I fling turds all over the carpet. In my defense, Petunia and Beepers, who RULE the basement are PSYCHO. Every time I go down there to use one of the 6 litter boxes, those bitches are always harassing me. Beepers ambushes me with a turkey baster as soon as I plant my ass in the box and Petunia attempts to sell me catnip, balls of ham and heroin. I can't even take a shit in peace. I'm sick of it. Dammit, I can't be her only client.
Lily- Her Eyes 'All-Aglow' While Staring at her Private Litter Box.

Fathead: What I'm thankful for is not having died from THE AIDS.
Doesn't have "the Aids"

Igor: Fatty, you don't have THE AIDS, you have an issue with your white blood cells. Nothing more. You're on meds. You're fine.

Fathead: Who made you a doctor? And, worse yet, I think I found blood in my stool.

Quincy:  You ate a can of red beets, dumbass.

Fathead:  Should I ask Santa for a prescription for Percocets and an anal thermometer for Christmas?

Petunia: Psst..Fatface....meet me in the basement at the 3rd litter box in 20 minutes. Bring cash.
Petunia- Drug Lord

Quincy: Oh my god... Petunia get your dealing ass back in the cellar. Poe you're up next.

Poe:  I'm glad that I am an only fur-kid here with mom and dad!

Quincy: Umm..wait a minute dude. There are 9 of you goddamn cats and 3 of us pups in this house.

Poe: Oh yeah. Sure, sure. Hey, ah...you think Santa would bring me some heavy duty garbage bags, a hacksaw and a woodchipper?

Poe-Asking for a Wood Chipper this Christmas

Quincy: Jesus Poe, No! You're getting as bad as Beepers.

Poe: Fine. *grumbling in some stupid cat language to himself.* I guess I don't need the garbage bags....

Moby: I'd like to be thankful, I really would, but 2016 was one shitty year. I lost my job at the factory and my wife of 36 years left me for this stray Angora with a man-bun. 32 of my 40 children are hooked on drugs; thanks Petunia. And the vet just diagnosed me with chronic yarn-in-the-ass syndrome from, get this, eating yarn! Now, how the hell is that's MY fault?

Igor:  Moby, you are so full of shit...and yarn. You're a cat, none of the above has happened.

Moby: It could have...
Moby- None too Happy from Contracting 'Yarn-Ass'

Quincy: God help me. Yeti, you're up...

Yeti: I'm thankful for the bed in mom and dad's room. It's so soft and cozy. I get so excited while digging a hole in the comforter; for what reason...I don't know. And once I spin around 20-30 times in the fluffy blankets it takes no time before I just...just...ZZZZZZZZZ.

Igor: The little bugger has turned narcoleptic. Yo, dumbass. Wake up!

Yeti: What...what happened? Did I fall asleep again while talking about being all snuggled up in mom and dad's beee...ZZZZZZ.

Quincy: Let him sleep. He adds nothing to this Christmas letter anyway. What about you Igor? What are you thankful for this holiday season?

Igor:  I'm thankful for the same crap as always- you know; a warm home and good food. It's nice to know that mom and dad let us get in touch with our roots and encourage us to be WILD dogs, occasionally letting us hunt for our food. In our neighborhood, there are a lot of prey to let loose on.  We ate the dickhead neighbors last month. They were way behind on their rent and their kids were fat little bastards who shouldn't have been in the gene pool anyway. We did the landlord and society a favor. Man, that George Foreman grill really comes in handy. It drains off all the Dorito and Mountain Dew flavored fat and leaves only the clean taste of buttery shrimp ass and tears. Oh and I'm also thankful for the ability to lick my ghost nuts. I'm psyched that I'm still limber.

Quincy: Dammit, you took what I was thankful for!

Igor: Heh, heh, heh...

Quincy: You're such a dick, Igor. Well, I'm ALSO thankful for another Christmas letter in the books. This 'being thankful' shit is exhausting. So Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah, Great Balls of Kwanza and may 2017 not suck as much as 2016.

Merry What-the-fuck-Ever!!!!

Monday, December 5, 2016


Post-anesthesia shivering revived Cammie after surgery. Furiously blinking her eyes in an attempt to regain her bearings and, hopefully, garner some medical attention. What came into focus was two-fold; the black sequined mini dress she had been wearing had been swapped out for a drab hospital gown but more importantly, her airway was choked by a breathing tube. Panicked, she pounded on the rails of her bed. A nurse in a Santa hat hurried to Cammie’s side.

“I know it’s scary but this will help,” she said and quickly injected medications into her IV. 
Cammie could feel the spasms gradually subside.

“Now relax. They’ll be moving you soon.”

Although the medicine was relaxing, it helped that the nurse’s voice was soothing. She patted her arm before checking her vitals on the monitor one last time.
Whatever else she gave Cammie made her eyelids droop, but luckily she no longer cared about the tube wedged down her throat.

Her sedation was quickly snatched from her as the woman lying in the bed across the room suddenly sprang to life. Just like Cammie had been moments before, the woman was trembling uncontrollably. With one difference; this woman was screaming.

Anticipating the nurses to spring to the woman’s side as they did hers, Cammie was quickly disillusioned. The nurses were huddled around a computer screen, unfazed by their patient’s panicked cries. Why weren’t they helping her?

Cammie focused her heavy eyes back to the woman whose screams were now deafening. The woman’s arms flailed at something black crawling from the bottom of her bed.

Unable to do anything, Cammie watched helplessly as the woman swatted and punched furiously at the black haired beast that made its way up her chest. Cammie could see it had something in one of its scythe-like fingers but she couldn’t discern what it was. Like a deranged jack-in-the-box, a second black furred creature popped up from the side rail of the woman’s bed. She could hear it laugh as it revealed an equally inky black bag and shoved it over the terrified woman’s head. The first beast chimed in with the sickening laughter and revealed just what was in its hand: a wooden switch. As the second beast stuffed the rest of the woman into his bag, the other beat her unmercifully with the switch.

The tremors returned and took over Cammie’s body but this time it was fear, not anesthesia.

The horrible creatures had the woman’s body almost completely shoved in their bag when Cammie let out a muffled crack of air from her obstructed throat. 

Their attention turned to Cammie.

For a horrifying second, both beasts stopped their beating and stuffing and placed a pointy finger to their smiling lips, convincing her to remain silent.

She slammed her eyes shut. She wanted to keep them pressed closed for as long as she could but she knew she couldn’t hide. It happened.

They saw her. The beasts saw her.

Reluctantly, Cammie cracked open her eyes.

There was nothing. The hideous black beasts were gone. The nurses were still conversing at the computer. Doctors were scurrying back and forth. The woman in the bed was gone. But how much of what she just saw was real and what was medically induced?

Cammie stared at the blinking red lights on the small desktop Christmas tree at the nurse’s station. She had been through a lot of trauma for one evening. The red blinking lights were a blinding reminder.

Unfortunately, her composure was interrupted by the woman snatched from her bed. Only this time, her face and chest were full of glass shards and blood poured from her wounds. The same screams she heard minutes before were now echoing in Cammie’s face.

“Where is Tia? What did you do with my little girl? Where is she?”

Once again, Cammie could feel the terror rise in her broken body. But the woman continued screeching,

“You took her! You took her from me?”

Tears burned from her eyes but the tube in her throat kept Cammie mute. She thrashed her head side to side, avoiding the woman’s bloody finger dangling in her face.

The assault didn’t go unnoticed. One of the doctors padded over and gently placed a hand on the screaming woman’s shoulder.

“Now Marion, we’ve talked about this. Cammie doesn’t have Tia.”

A nurse sidled up to him and took ‘Marion’s’ arm.

The feral look in Cammie’s eyes softened. The doctor continued speaking to Marion.

“Cammie may have taken her from you. But your own Christmas ‘spirit’ lead you here…with us.”  His lips twisted into a deranged smile displaying rows of tiny sharp teeth.

In a single blink, both the doctor and nurse had morphed into the grotesque beasts.

“Now get back in the bag!”

The “doctor” yanked the black bag over Marion, who punched and kicked as the nurse beast struck her with the switch.

Once she was forced inside, the nurse creature dragged her down the hallway, the bag undulating and lurching.

Cammie had the creature’s sole attention. Hurling itself on top of her, it stroked her tear soaked hair. 

“Merry Christmas Cammie. I have something for you.”

Its voice was thin, ragged and hideous.

Furiously, she shook her head no.

The creature snarled.

“Aww…where is your Christmas spirit? You had it when you left your Christmas party. You had it when you ran through the pretty red light.”

Cammie’s head continued to shake in declination.

But the beast wouldn’t take no for an answer. From behind its gnarled back, it retrieved a doll. A blood stained doll: its dress torn and wet. The beast sat it on her chest.

Cammie noticed the gift tag on the dolls tattered arm.

“To Tia: Love Mommy.”

Choking uncontrollably on the breathing tube, she couldn’t help but panic.

The beast cooed, “Let me help you, child,” yanking the tube from her throat.

The second creature reappeared next to her bed with the black body bag in its fist.

Thursday, December 1, 2016

Black Friday Bitches

So I went Black Friday shopping and stopped at Victoria's Secret. Why? Well, I had to pick up a few things....for a friend.

Honestly, I hate going into that store. The "Bra Specialists" stalk you with talk of finding your perfect fit. Okay, number one, what schooling do you need to become a "Bra Specialist?" Is it a four year program? Can one eventually get their Masters in Tittology? All I can say is...bitch better have some sort of degree. And TWO, there is no damn thing as a 'perfect fit.' It's a goddamn bra! Bra's suck.

Plus, the staff hovers. Come on! My head is the same size as my boobs. So when I try the bras on my noggin in the middle of store, I don't really need a "specialist" looming over me, treating me like I'm some sort of sped. Shut up. It works for me and that's all that matters.

Red makes me feel sexy!

While slogging thru the throng of whiny bitches, I happened across a 'door busters' sign on gutichies that were pretty damn nice. And apparently, every other cheap gutchie loving bitch did too. The estrogen and Vickie's odoriferous perfume line were so thick I couldn't even get near the display.

Luckily, since I had my thinking-cap on,  *see above photo* I scurried out of the store and purchased a small cup of pretzel bites from Auntie Anne's Pretzels. Now, I'll admit, I was a bit hungry but I had other plans for those greasy little nuggets.

After munching on a few of them, I snuck the cup back into the store- in my purse- which is perpetually open because I'm too lazy to snap it shut.

I pushed my way through scary mother/daughter panty shoppers, the twelve-year-old baby hookers in training and the grandmas with fantastic body image to the round display of panties. Unfortunately for me, there were hands everywhere. Every time I'd grab for a sliver of silky fabric, another hand would pluck it from under my fingertips.

It was time to bring out the big guns or in this case, the bite sized guns. Acting as though I was picking something off the floor, I tiltled my purse so the pretzels precariously perched in my purse bounced and rolled all over the carpet.

The sight of those rogue pretzels co-mingling on the floor with all the lint, glitter and body dysmorphia birthed fear in those women's eyes. But there was one chick who pointed a manicured nail at the doughy buggers and really chummed the panty-lined waters.

In a thin, cartoonesque voice she screamed, "CARBS," causing the horde of gutchie glomming females to dart in all directions- while leaving me to the unfettered and attainable spoils.


My Black Friday experience suddenly became...delightful!

I chose my cheap-ass panties in peace. Isn't that what the day after gorging yourself with great quantities of food is all about; peace and love and new panties?

Say what you want about my tactics but honestly, it was all Auntie Anne's doing. She's the real bitch here.

Igor's Resume

Although I love my critters, they are sucking my wallet dry like some fetish vampire. So Igor decided to step-up, and attempt to get a job....