Horror Writers Association Member

Monday, December 5, 2016

Krampustasia






Post-anesthesia shivering revived Cammie after surgery. She furiously blinked 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.

“Here's a toasty warm blanket. Now, relax. They’ll be moving you soon.”

Although the medicine was relaxing, it helped to hear the nurse’s soothing voice. 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.

Before she melted into the warm blanket and sedation, 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 and would 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. 

Cammie focused her heavy eyes back to the woman whose screams were 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 slithered 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, raw and feral as it revealed an equally inky black bag which it shoved over the terrified woman’s head. The first beast chimed in with the same 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. Which turned the vicious creatures attention 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, praying she could keep them closed for as long as she could, as if it would keep her hidden.

But- they saw her. She knew the beasts saw her.

And she was helpless. All she could do was wait and listen to the soft tick of the clock hanging on the wall. 

Tick, tick, tick.

But there was nothing. 

Reluctantly, Cammie cracked open her eyes.

The hideous black beasts were gone. The nurses were still conversing at the computer. Doctors were scurrying back and forth. And the woman in the bed- she was gone.

Cammie head felt as heavy as bowling ball. It was all so real. She reasoned it was a medically induced hallucination. A nightmare shaking her into the waking world 

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.

Her composure was short lived, as the woman Cammie witnessed being beaten and snatched from her bed was now on top of her. But now the woman's face and chest were mangled, with thousands of glass shards imbedded in her flesh and blood poured from every wound. 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 the doctor and took ‘Marion’s’ arm.

The wild look in Cammie’s eyes softened as 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 monsterous 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 continued lashing her, quickly tackling her to the ground before dragging Marion down the hallway, the bag undulating and lurching.

Cammie was the object of the creature’s attention. Hurling itself on top of her, it stroked her tear soaked hair with its bony fingers.

“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.

Bwahahahahaha!

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.


Tuesday, November 15, 2016

My LAST Bloody Valentine



Noah has parted the Red Sea in my pants for the last time!

I have mopped up my final feminine crime scene investigation! 

Red Elvis....has evacuated my vagina!   Elvis was the name of my monthly hemoglobular expulsion.
:
:
And it's AWESOME.


Yep, this female was deemed privy for a procedure called, ABLATION. Let me Wikipedia that for you....

ABLATION
noun
  1. the surgical removal of body tissue.
  2. the removal of snow and ice by melting or evaporation.
                        SOURCE: The       internet.....duh.
So I had either tissue removed or they tossed salt and cinders in my vagina. Damn, looking back on this, I hope it was the first one...

Okay, I'm pretty sure the first one. I remember seeing a little crème brulee torch they would use to burn off my uterine lining.

Holy shit, maybe they DID do number 2. Salt and sugar look the SAME!!!

Ah whatever.

All I know is I will no longer experience the sensation of a massive clot the size of a can of Thanksgiving cranberry jelly, dropping-it-like-it's- hot, at the most inopportune time in my drawers.


Now, for some woman, this monthly ritual is embraced and considered beautiful. It reminds them
they are goddesses with the ability to bring life into the world. There are woman out there creating art with their menses- standing over canvases and letting their sloughed off cells, mucus and blood, develop into works of art! Like finger painting but - without fingers or paint....

Damn hippies.

Me, on the other hand, I am just DONE. I'm done being a fertile female. I'm done hollering,"thar she blows" as my white whale spews chunks from my tired blow hole. I. am. done.

Am I grossing you out?

Yes?

Good. Now you know how most women feel every goddamn month.

You're welcome.

So...how did surgery turn out, you ask?

Well, other than the inevitable stench of BBQ every time I have to pee...I'd say it went pretty well.

I wanted to use my blogging abilities to educate woman who no longer wish to experience hot magma exploding from their vaginal volcano.

So, I have created a few tips to get you thru your own ablation or hysterectomy.

1. Do not stuff a raw piece of meat in your vagina with a note that reads "I could have become someone." It IS funny, but not to everyone. Killjoys.


2. Do not ask them right before surgery if they'll also take 'a little off the top' while they're down there, and work in a cute circumcision like your idol, Caitlyn Jenner. Again, not everyone shares our sense of humor.

3. Do not ask for your singed uterine tissue or your uterus in a jar. They make you sign a waiver agreeing you won't ask for it. I guess I need a new idea for Christmas gifts this year...


4. Do not braid your 'carpet' into cornrows with colorful beads and request the nurses sing Buffalo Soldier as they wheel you into the O.R. 
As it turns out, these young nurse don't know all the lyrics to that classic little diddy. What the hell are they teaching them in nursing school??


5. Don't tell them you're a 'squirter'. It's really none of their business but the look on their faces when it spontaneously happens is pure gold. GOLD, I tell you! 

If you don't know what a 'squirter' is watch the classic porno, 
    'Why He's Really Named Squirtle: The  
    Darker Side of Pokémon.'


6. Do not hand the surgeon this ultrasound and ask him if he'll find a new home for 'Chad.' Honestly, Chad will find a new home on his own. The little scamp.


7.  Do not scrawl a note on your girly-parts that reads, "While you're in there, could you please look for my lost car keys..." 
I woke up with another note that simply read, 'No.'  I'll be damned if I give them a smiley face on their hospital survey.

8.  While in pre-op, when asked your name and birthdate, do not roll your eyes until the whites show, throw your voice to your vagina and growl, "There is no (insert name here) only Zuul." 
Not everyone shares our love of Ghost Busters. Although, most people do share our disappointment in Ghost Busters 2.

So to recap without boring the BBQ scented piss out of you:

Ablation-GOOD. 

Having fun at your surgeons/nurses expense-BAD. 

Funny as all hell, but bad.





Monday, October 24, 2016

The Christmas Hippo



Ahhh...the Christmas Hippo. It's a little known fact that there was a 4th wise man, who was Not-So -Wise, and 3 days late to the birthday bash. He asked the Christmas Hippo for directions to Baby Jesuses crib.

Unfortunately, the hippo smelled the gift the Not-So-Wise Man was bringing--which was weed. And everybody knows hippos dig weed. And when the Not-So-Wise-Man refused to share his stash the hippo ate him....and eventually smoked all the weed.

We celebrate the Christmas Hippo because if it weren't for him, we'd be decorating our homes with ganja instead of poinsettia which a 5th wise man sent by FTD.

Another little known Christmas fact by me....and TJ Maxx department store.


Why Bumble Bees are Jerkwads

There are more bugs, insects and arachnids on this planet than there are people. That fact alone terrifies me. Especially in the spring/summ...