“Dorian Waters”


I’ve been slowly working on a new short story titled “Dorian Waters,” which will be an Amazon exclusive upon release.  I wanted to take the charisma of 007, the cheesiness of a ’70s sci-fi flick, and the ridiculous strength of Stallone’s Rambo–with all that being said…let me introduce you to Dorian Waters:

Dorian Waters

Dorian rocketed towards the outer crust of the lush planet at speeds almost intolerable for his Tibranium launch suit.  At just the precise moment he jotted in his PI code and the blackened outer shell of suit unbuckled from his frame in a thousand fractured pieces, rocketed past him, and immediately burned up in the upper atmosphere.  Dorian repositioned himself as he fell into a sort of Swan dive and fell headlong into a thick layer clouds.  With a flick of his wrist he yanked the ripcord and his blue shoot billowed from his back pulling him upwards briefly before eventually allowing him to slowly descend into the dark green canopy below.

“Terra de Verde,” Dorian muttered in awe as he came into the canopy lining.

The landing was a bit rough, but with only a couple scratches from broken branches, and the consideration that little to no preparation time was had when he rashly jumped out of the low orbit Skirt Pod, it could have gone much, much worse.  He hung gently swinging, listening, and thinking about the sounds he was hearing before finally unsheathing his knife and cutting himself loose from the thick, brown branches that held him captive.

He awoke flat on his back, clutched for his knife which was missing.  He glanced upwards towards the canopy where he had fallen through several strata of branches–loll and behold he could see the glint of steel lodged into the bark in the distance.

Quickly thinking, he pawed for something close by, found a rock, and struck the cat-like creature as it leapt for his prone body.  The 180-lb creature growled in pain and fell to its side in a hiss of dust and a belabored roar.

“Kitty’s got claws,” Dorian mumbled to himself and then promptly passed out.

He awoke in awash of his own blood and rain.  Dorian sputtered water as he jolted awake in a nightmarish-like fashion.  He grimaced and propped up on his elbows.

“Fuck…it’s wet.”

Waters was ironically drenched and thoroughly pissed.

Panda’s Up Late


Suck that reality.  I just surreal lifed your ass, and you didn’t even bat an eye.  Stick that in it your eye like Wesley Snipes after eatin’ a rat burger.  Ever hear of Aldous?  Nah…only Hurley would ever stay fat when Lost.  Apparently he found plenty of burgers on the set till Weezer hit him up for a cover shoot.  Beverly Hills….please…isn’t that where the fuckin’ hillbillies come from, anyhow?  Why’d you want to hit that?  Fake hair, fake tits, fake smile…might as well be Sarah Palin’s hometown.  Fake all over, not worth a dime, and damn sure to either be eaten be a crazed badger contaminated by the oil soaked debt of an Alaskan publicity whore.

Speaking of which where’s that Lohan…trapped in the jaws of another outraged parent?  Cracked and strung out?  Teaching sisters how and what not to be?  What was it Uncle Ben said?  With great power, comes great responsibility.  I’m still confused whether he said that after or before he made his rice bowls, but either way Panda’s up late and he’s got Skinemax.  So sink your teeth into that blood sausage because those fangs ain’t going to retract them fuckin’ selves.  Again, back to tits, may not be fake but they’re still there to tantalize because who else would care besides a True Blood.  Sure beats a Crypt, because that Keeper is an old bastard…and trust me he was dirty.

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