It's Free Book Time Again! Yaaaay!

"Because, in my infinite wisdom, something something blah blah blah ..."


I felt like giving away books again, because I'm Crazy Grim, and down here at Crazy Grim's Apocalyptic Book Emporium we are practically just throwing books at passers-by! Come on down to Amazon.com, uk, de, fr, hell, all of 'em, and you'll walk away with a gin-you-when, authentic version of my book, 99 Brief Scenes From the End of the World, on your Kindle! Well I said, damn! HOT-damn! (fires six-shooters into the air)

Hey, what the hell, have a quick story:



Walking In Autumn







Sometimes, I'll take a walk out into the woods behind my house in the fall, always during the time of the season when the late afternoon sun beams like slanted lasers through leaves that are becoming thin and reedy. I walk, and I look for suitable spots where I could take someone and kill them. Not to bury them, though: oh no, not so close to my own home, hell no ... all I do is, I look for the place, the exactly right patch of perfect ground, where I can aesthetically experience the final moments of some hapless person's futile life.






Oh, I do unspeakable things to these poor souls, here in the woods behind my house ... I slice off their noses and I stab their livers, I bite chunks of skin and meat from their cheeks and bodies - I sever the tendons in behind their knees and force them to flee my knife, promising them that I will slice their rectums if I can catch them. I always catch them. I rape them all, men and women, I rape them in the dirt and dead leaves of that perfect, lovely place. I batter their skulls with a rock while I'm doing it. I do these things and I do worse, oh, such unspeakable things.






Some day, I might get caught. Maybe I never will, who knows? Until then, you might see me out here; a man wandering through the woods by himself on a gorgeous autumn day, a big man wearing faded jeans and a red lumber jacket. Smile and wave, hell, why not? I'll wave back. Just don't get too close ... because, on that particular day, I just might have found the spot.

I Hate Her Book So Much That I Wrote a Really Gnarly Parody of It

No, Really, What a Piece of Shit That Book is!


I'll start this tirade off with a disclaimer ... E.L. James might be a really great lady, I dunno, I've never met her. I will say right now that I am no Earnest Hemingway, D.H. Lawrence or John Irving. Nope. Not a towering talent in the universe of literature, fuck no ... but HER books are a pile of listless, bland-tasting garbage. They're an insult to erotica, drama, and romance novels, all in one fell swoop. She shoulda stuck to writing crap-ass Twilight fan fiction. However, if she hadn't, well, she wouldn't be fabulously rich right now, and ... yeah, so I'm poor. Score one for E.L., ha ha.

Basically, the book suggests through the actions of the protagonist (a plain-jane "everygirl") that women are completely docile, passive and needy fucking retards who can be wowed into crappy BDSM sex with baubles and a big ole' cock. Now, obviously, this could be construed as bad role model material. Why can't the protagonist be a smart, resourceful and independent woman who happens to like crappy BDSM and big ole' cocks? Why?

I'll tell you why. Because she modeled her characters on the fuckin' bullshit Twilight characters, that's why. GAH! Bad fiction begets even fuckin' worse fiction, like some sort of awful, Old-Testament plague on the literary world. The bitch up and wrote one-dimensional characters based on the dubious, two-dimensional characters of another hack writer - and wow, WOW, just a terrible, terrible non-plot-line on this thing, seriously. Shitty dialogue, shitty prose, wooden characterization, ridiculous sex that's tame as fuck ... nope, I'm sorry, this doesn't deserve to be so popular that fuckin' radio DJ's are trumpeting about the shit right into my ear all the time. It just plain isn't good, not at all. The only reason its popular at all is the fact that people like to jump on bandwagons - the bigger the wagon, the more folks'll jump the hell on that bitch and mindlessly ride.

SO! Here's my answer to this insipid garbage that I see mentioned on fucking Facebook constantly; a horror parody to top all horror parodies. Behold, and follow the link to my "masterpiece" (ahaha) 50 Shades of Decay. I'm posting it on Reddit - at least this first part, we'll see if anyone wants to see the rest of it.

50 Shades of Decay - A Love Story

By the way, this is very much NSFW.

Why do Sick Fucks Do Sick Fucking Things?

Alternate Title: Our Base Desires Can Make People Do Really Awful Shit


I'm not even going to attempt to touch on the horrible tragedy that occurred at a certain screening of a certain movie in an unnamed state in the U.S. I haven't the words or the scope of imagination to even consider tackling that particular mess. However, it leads to the broader topic of mentally disturbed wierdos and the mentally fucked-up things that they are prone to doing. Most of us can only look at individuals like these and say, "What the fuck, man ... seriously. What the fuck?"

I couldn't possibly list all the depraved shitbags out there who have perpetrated awful deeds throughout the years: their numbers and crimes are literally immeasurable. But the atrocities that they commit are flavored by three general forces: Lust, Greed, and Hate. From war to sexual homicide, this Holy Trinity of unpleasantness are always the building blocks of the mania behind the violence, the cornerstones of a vast mansion of madness. Think about it -  it's true, man. Lust, Greed and Hate - they infiltrate a human's perceptions of events, people and places around them. Then, they take root and start to fester away down there in your subconscious, the place that takes all the information in that your brain receives and busily knits it all into a quilt of perception of the world you live in. The quilt your subconscious was knitting begins to rot and unravel: it becomes a jagged tapestry of violent patterns and disconnected imagery. Now, lust, greed and hate are not necessarily bad concepts, not at all -  they're not even exclusively human frailties. But they can be poison when allowed to sit and fester. They'll fuck you up.

It's not at all uncommon for a person to become so unhealthily obsessed with an idea or feeling that it eventually drives them mad. That shit happens all the time, and unfortunately, this can sometimes result in people getting dead. It's very scary to think that, at any time around you, some poor soul might have popped a few bolts loose in the ol' brain-pan ... and now they're thinking some very bad shit. Yep, makes you want to invest in a suit of armor, sometimes ....



Why Won't You Stay Dead?







There it is, plastered across the broad, stubbly face of that middle-aged construction worker walking ahead of me. It's that look you always give me, that knowing side-smirk with one eyebrow arched - you fucking ghoul, why won't you stay dead? How many times do I have to kill you before you'll finally stay dead?




I follow you in your new guise for blocks and blocks; past pizza parlors and massage joints, pawn shops and liquor stores with bars on the windows. You appear to the disinterested world around you to be a blue-collar man on his way home after a hard, blistering day in the sun. I know that's a dangerous deception. You're a demon, a soul-eating monster from beyond imagination and reason. How many times have I driven you from this world? I've lost count.




Finally, you turn a corner onto a single-lane street, hot and empty. I run the last steps between us with my hammer raised and a roar on my lips. In this final, fleeting moment you feign confusion and terror; I ignore this familiar ruse and rain the righteous blows down upon your skull. As I walk away from your twitching husk, I put the hammer back in the plastic bag, and I rapidly stroll around the corner and make my way to - wait! I caught it from the corner of my eye, I almost missed it. The young girl with the stroller on the opposite corner ... her sideways smirk, an arched eyebrow ... steeling myself, I pull out the hammer again.

Predators and Prey - An Awkward Square Dance

And a Do-Si-Do!


Hey folks! Hot as hell out there, man ... careful out there in the sun. Heatstroke sneaks up on ya!

I've been busy as shit this past week, working daily for an old co-worker of mine, doing industrial clean-up. Hot and crappy, but work is motherfucking work, son. If I tried to live off of writing, well, my girl would leave me, ha ha, cuz I'd be a broke-ass burden on her.

So, anyway ... predators and their prey. It's a symbiotic relationship. One eats and the other dies. It's an icky old world out there - there's stuff running around, chasing down and eating other shit, all the fucking time. Think about that for a second, would ya? Right now, as you sit reading this bullshit, there are hundreds of thousands of horrific, ghastly scenes of murder unfolding all around you. Ladybugs are eating aphids. Aphids are sucking defenseless leaves dry. Ants are overwhelming a poor lone little beetle, and they are fucking tearing him apart while he screams and writhes. They are cutting off his legs with their jagged mandibles, one by one, as he vainly scrabbles to flee from their carnivorous intent.

Shit's fucked up, I know.

People are predators. We fucking predate on half the shit on the surface of this planet. Bloodthirsty bastards, we are! We've taken predation to previously undreamt-of levels of ghastly. Shit, we even (metaphorically and sometimes even physically) prey on each other! Sometimes, however, we are prey for other species of shit, too. Tigers eat us on occasion, and wolves. Parasitic amoebas infiltrate our bodies and make us die rather cruel deaths, as they feed on us from within. Mosquitoes feast happily on our life's blood every time we try to go outdoors in the summer. Human beings are simultaneously both the top predator AND beset by predators. It's a confusing state of affairs. It seems that the role of predator and preda-tee isn't static or well-defined in the least. Fuck, as I'm eating these potato chips, there are microscopic lice running around on my skin, eating dead skin cells just like I'm eating these fuckin' chips. The fuck, man? Weirds me out.




The Taste of Fear





The girl didn't struggle or fight against the intruder, didn't beg; she just urged him to "hurry, please hurry. Finish and get out of here." Donny slapped the bitch hard across the face and told her to shut the motherfuck up. She was crying, and normally that would get him harder than concrete, but the fear that propelled the tears was not for her own mortal safety. Donny knew that variety of fear quite well, knew its taste and smell intimately. The woman pinned to her kitchen floor beneath him was not afraid of him.




"Please, goddamn it! Hurry up and get out of here!" she shrieked up at him, and his cock abruptly went as soft as playdough. Teeth clenched in fury and confusion, Donny punched the young woman in the mouth and got off of her. He stalked out into her living room, pulling up his jeans as he went. The living room was awash in the strong glow of the moon, rising full above the apartment buildings across the street. He used the light to locate the knife in his bag.




Voice trembling uncontrollably, Donny called out, "Hey, I've got something for you, whore. I've got something else to stick in you." He turned back to the kitchen ... and, lit in harsh white relief by the full moon, a mutant horror of a wolf trotted through the door. Frozen in place, Donny numbly watched as the monstrous thing kicked the remnants of the girl's dress from one massive hind leg. Two large, yellow eyes found him. Her muzzle wrinkled back from teeth like daggers, and she growled. Piss ran down Donny's leg in a terrified stream, and the knife fell from his nerveless fingers. He had time to scream, but only once.

Real Vampires Aren't Handsome. They're Really Fucking Gross

I Highly Doubt That They'd Ever Get a Girlfriend as Devoted as Bella


First of all, I want to apologize that my formatting sometimes goes from single-space to double from post to post. I haven't a single dim clue as to why this is, and my girlfriend couldn't figure it out either ... and she's, like, in her twenties, and therefore knows stuff about computers. So, yeah, I suck and I'm mentally insufficient to the task of evenly formatting stuff. Sorry!

Okay, anyway ... fuckin' vampires, man. They aren't pretty.

Why would they be? Living in the darkness, hiding from the sun like that shit is the Black Death, feeding on the blood of pretty much whatever they can get their hands on ... naw, they aren't high-society types, how could they be? In order to be a vampire, you have to die - dead people can't keep their fortunes. Sorry, Count Dracula, but that shit gets willed away to others, or is seized by creditors. Nor could a vampire viably hold a job - either the sunlight will eventually get him, or his urge to devour his co-workers will. Also, as an undead, blood-thirsty monster, would you even fucking care about that sort of thing anymore? My guess is NOPE.

I see them as ghastly things, ghouls tortured by a disgusting thirst and doomed to exist in the pall of night. They'd be murderous, amoral, animalistic, simply not regular folks at all.

Here's another question, though; would they still have feelings? I mean, would they still experience longing, fear, sadness ... fury?


My Father


Look at you, crawling around on the filthy floor with your guts trailing in the dirt behind you, whimpering and piddling like a cur. You disgust me. Your existence is offensive. It was pure dumb luck that you bested my father, surely it must have been. Looks like your luck has finally run out, doesn't it?

My father was brave. He wasn't like you, you cowering piece of shit - STOP SCREAMING! Shut your puling hole and listen to me, or I'll rip your tongue right out of your throat. Do you understand?

Good. Hold it in and fucking listen.

My father was a provider for his family. He cared for us. He sheltered us from our enemies. Most importantly, he made sure that we never, EVER suffered from hunger. You smug, sanctimonious bastard, you wouldn't know anything about hunger ... not THIS kind. Do you think that you're in pain right now? Huh? You have no fucking idea, you little worm. The hunger is like a molten-lead agony that leaks into every fibre of your being. It consumes you, body and soul, and there is no release of death. We have to feed, and my father provided for us. Now what? Who will hunt for the clan? We're suffering. We're suffering unimaginably and it's because of YOU.

What? No soul? Yes, I have a soul. So did my father. He had a beautiful soul. You destroyed it when you destroyed his body. He's lost now. He's lost in the void, he's GONE, do you understand, lost FOREVER-

Oh ... didn't like that? I'll tear your other ear off, too! There, how's that? How about I reach down and rip a big strip of skin from your hide? Look at you squeal! Go ahead, plead to the Heavens, beg, vomit forth all of your misery ... it'll never be enough. You'll never suffer as brutally as the clan has since you crept, like a scavenger, into our domain - and drove a fucking wooden stake through my father's blessed heart as he slumbered. Oh, you pathetic, contemptible coward...

No, I couldn't possibly inflict as much suffering upon you as you have done unto us, vampire hunter ... but I'll try. I swear upon my father that I'm going to try my best.

Ha! Where do you think you're crawling away to? Get the fuck back here. I've barely even started ...