STREAMER SEASON | Dogboy Chronicles Short Tail

This story is inspired from jokes and moments during the livestreams of Blitzwinger, Katie Wilson, and Aaron Plays.215.


“Hello world and welcome to the 10th annual Livestream Day,” said George, one of the commentators. “Livestream Day is when every creative and their hyper-intelligent dog is broadcasting a livestream of one sort or another.”

Maggie, the other commentator, joined in with, “That also means it’s open season on streamers. Thousands of stream snipers and trolls have descended upon the Virtual Net in the hopes of bagging a streamer or two.”

“That’s right, Maggie,” said George. “But it means a good day if you’re a grinder. Every grinder has been hired out for today’s event. The grinder’s job, of course, will be to protect the streamer from snipers.”

Maggie smiled a little too brightly. “And how might they do that?”

“Many ways, Maggie, but the most common is the grinder will make a decoy account. The grinder will look exactly the same as the streamer, right down to the gamertag, or the grinder will squad up with the steamer and act as a human shield protecting the streamer for as long as possible.”

Meanwhile at Spydrone base camp…

I paced across the small stage; an American flag acted as the backdrop.

“Troops,” I said looking over Sally, Brain, Danny, and Bandit—my human intelligent dog, “today is Livestream Day. We’ve been hired to protect Spydrone.” Spydrone, a female-looking robot wearing a black trench coat and fedora and carrying a briefcase attached to her back, waved. “We must protect her at all costs. I won’t lie to you; it’ll be war out there, and some of us won’t make it.”

Danny gulped. Brain rolled his eyes.

“Danny!” I pointed at him suddenly causing him to jump. “You will be our decoy. You’ll dress up as Spydrone and hopefully lure many of the snipers away. Sally, Bandit, and I will act as bodyguards. Brain will remain here and act as our monitor.” My pack of friends nodded in agreement. “Everyone have proximity chat enabled? They nodded. “Are we all connected to TinCan so we can talk even when we are away from each other?” They nodded again. “Alright then; let’s do this!”

***

Streamers from all around the world arrived at the stream lobby. Sally, aka Kickbutt98, looked amazing as her avatar. Her outfit consisted of a camouflage cheerleader uniform and black war paint under her eyes. When she equipped her shock-gun, she looked even hotter.  

The host for the event appeared on the stage via a burst of log-on-light. “Welcome everyone,” he raised his hands in a greeting gesture, “to Livestream Day. To better assist you, all available bandwidth was transferred here for two hours, so you have two hours to complete your livestream.”

He cleared his throat. “And as you might guess this also makes you easier targets for the stream snipers and trolls.” He offered a quick shrug. “Oops.”

Oops, indeed.

“The livestream session,” the host pointed to a large holographic clock overhead, “begins in ten seconds. May the algorithm always be with you.” The clocked buzzed resetting to two hours. “I’m outta here.” The host vanished in another burst of light.

“Hello, web-heads,” said a streamer talking to a floating sphere that acted as the camera, “and welcome to today’s livestream. We’ll—”

BANG!

The streamer screamed as he derezzed into pixel blocks. More shots rang out from all around us.

“It’s an ambush!” I shouted.

“The host set us up!” said Sally.

“Go, go, go!” I waved.

Sally, Bandit, and I took up positions as we ushered Spydrone out of there. One streamer got shot in the back. He fell; he held a pleading arm out to everyone. “Tell my viewers,” he coughed weakly, “to subscribe.” He collapsed into pixels.

Explosions hit around us as I tried to plot the safest course. Suddenly, a sniper dropped from their position in a tree. She aimed her rifle at Spydrone. “End of line, streamer,” she said.


We’ll be right back after these messages.

The adventures of Joe and his friends continue in the Dogboy Chronicles. The Dogboy Chronicles is a multiverse of sci-fi action and adventure for young adults. The book series is available at select retailers. Paperback copies are available at Amazon.

And now back to the story.


Vroooom!!

A yellow car came out of nowhere and smashed into the sniper derezzing them. Time slowed for a moment as I saw Danny, dressed as Spydrone, behind the wheel; he gave us a thumbs-up before disappearing down the path with a swarm of motorcycles, hover vehicles, and jet pack riders in pursuit.

A few feet away, we rested near a park bench. Bandit, as Silent-Paw—his ninja-dog avatar, sniffed out the area. He gave us a head nod to indicate it was clear. Sally and I caught our breath while Spydrone began her intro.

“Thanks for asking me to come along,” said Sally. She leaned back in the bench resting her arms on the backrest and staring into the sky.

I was leaning forward resting my face in my hands. “Sure,” I said, lowering my hands. “You’re a great gamer and fighter, why wouldn’t I invite you? You’re also my friend.”

She rested a hand on my shoulder; my face flushed. “I’m serious; not a lot of guys would let a girl—”

“Wait,” I said. I stood. “Something’s wrong.”

Sally stood too. “You’re right. It’s much too quiet.” She scanned the area. “Joe! RPG!”

A rocket-missile whistled as it shot towards us like a bat with a grudge. We gathered around Spydrone.

“Barrier!” I said.

A bubble appeared around us as the missile hit. We ran for it using the blast’s smoke as cover. Soon, we were out of cover; bullets started pinging around us.

“This week’s theory,” said a nearby education-entertainment streamer. He stood before a chalkboard with a crudely drawn elephant, “will be on how the elephant in Epoch’s Curse was in fact an alien lifeform.”

Team Spydrone took cover behind the chalkboard. The streamer stopped speaking; he leaned around the chalkboard so he could address us. “Excuse me, I’m trying to tear apart an award-winning movie so that I can earn a few coin in ad revenue.”

Three shots hit the chalkboard and the streamer dove behind the chalkboard. More shots came from the trees, bushes, and I could hear incoming vehicles.

“Hey!” shouted a new voice, which drew everyone’s attention. A streamer wearing ripped jeans, a denim jacket, and sunglasses waved his arms. “I’m doing a charity livestream for the BLT Foundation. For every $1,000 donated, you get a free shot at me!”

The air filled with the sounds of thwips as money bags materialized next to the streamer. His donation counter jumped to $3 million. The next sound was thousands of gunshots. A moment later, the charity streamer had more holes than Swiss cheese.

“Worth it,” he groaned before derezzing.

“Jeffery!” shouted Spydrone. “No!!”

“We need to go,” I said putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We can’t let his sacrifice go in vain.”

She nodded, and we were on the run again. We passed by two streamers standing by a sign attached to a tree. A sniper stood with his rifle aimed at them. One of the streamers, a blue skinned humanoid, ripped the sign off the tree. Underneath was another sign saying, “Sweats Season.”

“Sweats season,” said the streamer.

The other streamer; a sweat dressed in tights, headband, and leg warmers, pulled the sign off. He pointed at the sign. “Streamer season.”

“Sweats season,” said the streamer pulling down the sign.

“Streamer season,” said the sweat.

“Sweats season.”

“Streamer season.”

“Sweats season,” said the streamer.

The sweat streamer pointed the sniper’s rifle at himself. “Sweats season.”

The streamer jerked the sniper’s rifle back towards himself. “I’m sick of arguing with you! It’s streamer season!” He faced the sniper. “Now, fire!”

The sniper shrugged then fired.

POP!

The fooled streamer glanced down at the hole in his chest. “Dang it,” he said before falling into a pile of pixels.

The other streamer, the sweat/try-hard, chuckled for a moment. The sniper turned his rifle on him. “Uh-oh,” said the sweat.

Both took off with the sweat jumping to avoid each rifle shot.

A man in a business suit logged in right in front of our group. He held up a hand in the “stop” gesture. We screeched to a halt. He presented a badge. “I’m from the Internet Censorship and Protocol Department. I’m afraid we cannot allow this to continue. This level of violence is not suitable for this target audience.” He reached inside his jacket seemingly to put away his badge; but instead, he pulled out an oversized mallet. “This, however, is appropriate levels of violence. Death to the streamer!”

He swung. I jumped forward activating my power gloves. A quick-time event activated as we fought for the mallet.

X, X, X, X, X… I thought as the game responded with flashes to my “button mashing” input.

I won the duel and wrestled the mallet free from the censor. I bonked him on the head sending him back to whatever log-in spawn point he came from.

It was time to run again. Sally, Bandit, Spydrone, and I panted as we made our way across the map. Spydrone then slowed.

“I have a donation,” she said.

“Don’t respond,” I said. “It’s a trap!”

“I have to,” she said. She stopped and addressed the camera sphere. “Thanks for the $10 donation, XMonke. I really—”

BANG!


We’ll be right back after a quick word from our sponsor.

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And we’re back.


The shot came from the bushes. Spydrone vanished. Sally, Bandit, and I looked at the ground as the sniper leapt out from their hiding spot; they pumped the air in victory.

Spydrone then reappeared.

“Whaaaaa?” we all said.

Spydrone blinked a couple times, confused by our reactions. “What happened? My Internet lagged.”

Sally and I glanced at each other then back at Spydrone. “That’s the first time I’ve seen lag save a life,” I said.

The sniper kicked the ground in frustration; steam came out of their ears. A moment later, we were surrounded by vehicles of all kinds. A gang of stream snipers exited the vehicles. One shot the sniper who failed instantly derezzing them. The gang parted so a figure in a dark cowboy suit could step forward. He had a five o’clock shadow and chewed on a toothpick. We instantly recognized him as theRezzmaker, the most notorious stream sniper in the land.

“I’ve been looking for you.” He pointed to Spydrone.

“Wh-wh-why mm-m-me…Why me?” said Spydrone.

theRezzmaker flicked away the toothpick. “Because you said you left the crusts on your peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. That ain’t natural.” He cracked his neck. “And with you as the last streamer standing, I’ll have my third in a row Livestream Day victory.”

He signaled his crew with his head. They equipped their weapons. They took aim.

“Not even this pathetic group of grinders can save you,” said theRezzmaker. “Ready, aim…”

“Wait!” said Spydrone.

“What is it?” growled theRezzmaker.

“An ad is playing.”

The crew lowered their weapons; theRezzmaker relaxed. We saw a holographic message informing us that three non-skippable ads were playing.

theRezzmaker groaned. “MyVideo gets greedier every day.”

Finally, the ads ended. theRezzmaker’s crew raised their weapons. “Ready,” said theRezzmaker. “Aim. Fffff…”

The crew and theRezzmaker moved in slow motion.

“What…is…hap…pen…ning?” said theRezzmaker painfully slow.

Brian’s voice came over TinCan. “That would be me. I am currently spamming the stream like Danny during March Madness.”

Sally looked to me. “Brain’s still here? I would have thought he’d be distracted with some new invention by now.”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “Honestly, I forgot he was even here.”

Brain continued, after a slight insulted grumble. “My spamming is slowing then down for now. It won’t be long before the moderators boot me.”

Sally and I nodded to each other.

I jumped into the air with my power gloves raised; I slammed back into the ground with a shockwave attack. The sniper crew flew into the air…slowly and fell back even slower. It was kind of fun listening to their slow motion, “Whoa!” While the crew were still airborne, Sally used her bow and arrow to take out the foes. Each dissolved into pixels before they hit the ground.

Sally and I were about to do a victory high-five when we turned around.

“You think you’re pretty clever with that little trick,” said theRezzmaker. Where’d he come from? He started to reach for his pistol. “I’ve bested the best. I will not be taken down by a couple punks and a puppy dog.” Bandit huffed. theRezzmaker had his hand on his gun. “I am the greatest stream sniper the world has ever known. You are just grinders. I have—”

Tzzzttt.

theRezzmaker jerked around like fish on land. I glanced to my side. Sally pointed her shock-gun. Smoke trailed off the gun’s muzzle. “He talks too much,” she said. She blew way the smoke.

“Congratulations!” said a disembodied voice that sounded similar to the host. “You’ve survived! All the snipers have been defeated! And you have a whole two minutes to finish your stream.”

Spydrone looked panicked for a moment but then became a professional again. “I hope everyone enjoyed today’s stream. Don’t forget if you want to show support for my channel, you can become a member or subscribe. I’d also like to thank Joe Rover and his friends for protecting me during this stream; they were awesome—especially Sally Pine, go girl power!” Sally raised her arm in a half-heart fist pump. Join me for tomorrow’s stream where I’ll show you how to use duct tape to keep intruders from using vents to move around your base. Bye for now.”

Copyright Joe Rover 2021. All rights reserved.

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading.

THE JOURNEY | Dogboy Chronicles Short Tail

Day 1

Alas, it is time to go. I must journey to a far-off place to learn at the feet of the master of viral and meme content. Hopefully, I will return with the knowledge to make my content more engaging. The trip will be harrowing and fraught with danger…but at least it has Wi-Fi.

Day 2

I’ve boarded the ship bound to Icon Island. The waves continually beat against the bow of our ship. The never-ending up and down of the ocean might stymie others, but my stomach is much more…

Excuse me a moment.

*sounds of vomiting*

Day 3

With the waves calming, I journeyed above deck with the other passengers. They gathered above to breathe in the sea air and enjoy the sunshine. The ship was crowded with beings of all shapes and sizes; and like me, these passengers were on their own adventure.

I don’t know what horrors await us.

“Last call for tonight’s bingo session!” shouted one of the cruise workers.

Day 4

Bingo was a bust. The little old lady from Pasadena won the pot. The lizard man from New York City seemed especially vexed.

Once again, the waves beat against our helpless ship.

KkkttTT!

“Ready the wave control torpedoes!” ordered the captain via the ship’s PA system.

Yes, it is dark times ahead. I see no hope insight.

“The captain,” announced a worker through the PA system, “would like to remind everyone that tonight’s all-you-can-eat buffet has been cancelled.”

I don’t know how much longer I can hold out.

Day 5

The torpedoes used to control the waves and calm the sea failed. Now, a storm threatens the ship. The waters have groan more intense. Everything that isn’t nailed down flops and slides out of control. The winds howl and lightning fills the sky with aerial fire.

Why is the floor wet?

Day 6

Somehow, we survived the storm and the trials of the sea. We finally reached Icon Island where the crew generously helped me disembark.

*BOOT!*

“And stay off, fleabag!” shouted the worker. “This is why we don’t allow Supers onboard! They’re a jinx!”

As I emptied my mouth of a mountain of sand, the cruise ship sped off as fast as it could.

I knew I shouldn’t have participated in this morning’s round of Mutant in Our Mist. Ricky Redd sussed me out immediately.

Day 7

I checked in at the resort.

“I have a ten o’clock appointment with the Viral Master.”

The clerk nodded. “He is expecting you.”

“I should hope so. I have an appointment.”

Day 8

I finally met with the Viral Master, a wise old man with white hair and beard. He dressed in blue jeans, a layered t-shirt, and sunglasses which hid his wrinkled eyes.

“In order to make viral posts and grow your online community, you must first hunt the animals of this land,” he said. “Return to me when you have three boar tusks, a chicken feather, and the wing of a bat.”

I groaned. “I hate fetch quests.”

“Why, young werewolf? You are so good at them.”

Days 9-11

I spent most of my time trying to track down and capture the boars, chicken, and bat. It was not easy among the mud and seemingly ever-present rain. And the place looked so much more pleasant when I first arrived.

Day 12

I returned to the Viral Master with the items and three layers of caked-on mud.

“Excellent work,” he said. “Although, I thought werewolves were better hunters.”

I growled. “Keep talking and you’ll be much more spiritual.” I sighed. “What was the purpose of this?”

“To become a viral hit, you must have the tenacity and ferocity of a boar, the power to overcome your fears, and the strength to fly though you’ll be called names by trolls and their kind.”

“And you couldn’t have just told me this?”

“It is better to learn things in your heart then to be told them. Plus, I needed you to do my shopping. Care for some bat-wing stew?”

“Eh, no thanks.”

“Then your training is complete. All the trials you have faced coming here have strengthened your resolve. You also have a story of you being a complete idiot. Ha! Coming all this way to train! What a silly idea!” The Master slapped me on the back. “Everyone loves a post where the person acts silly or stupid.”

I slapped my forehead. “So…how do I get back home? I got kicked off the ship.”

“That’s your problem, kiddo.”

Copyright Joe Rover 2021. All rights reserved.

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!

The Street is Lava | Dogboy Chronicles Short Tail


“This is Sally Pine reporting live for WAG News. I’m here with the driver of the car that’s been dangling over the edge of Wackmore Bridge for nearly six hours.”

Danny turned his head towards the driver’s side window so that his Omni-Cuff camera could record what he saw. The driver, a college-age male with a baseball cap and Van Dyke mustache, waved. Danny returned his view to Sally.

“Mr. Brinks,” said Sally.

“Call me ‘John.’ Mister is my father.”

“John, you’ve been hanging here for almost six hours…”

“Five hours, forty-nine minutes, and sixteen seconds, but who’s counting.”

“…what has been going through your mind?” Sally finished.

“Hmm…” John tapped his chin a couple times. “Not much. It’s kind of boring actually.”

Sally wanted to make sure she was hearing things correctly. “Boring?”

“Sure, the first hour or two, I was terrified, but after some time the adrenaline wears off. Afterwards, I read some books, watched a movie, and beat some Russian at Chess: Battle Royale.”

Danny switched the view back to Sally so she could ask her next question. “Any idea why it has taken rescue workers so long?

John yawned then shook his head like he was fighting off sleep. “Probably has something to do with the lava.”

The video zoomed in on Sally; she raised an eyebrow. “Lava?”

John pointed over the bridge–the best he could without causing the car to rock more. Sally and Danny peeked over the edge. Orange-red lava bubbled and popped below.

Danny kept his eyes on the lava so his camera could continue recording the street full of lava. “What do you know?” he said. “There is lava.”

“But why is there lava?” asked Sally.

John leaned back in his seat and turned his eyes to the sky. “The police said a semi carrying lava for Vulcan Labs overturned.”

“Why would someone be shipping lava?” asked Sally.

Danny didn’t break eye contact with the driver but did answer Sally. “I think Vulcan Labs is owned by Hephaestus.” 

“Oh,” said Sally feeling foolish for not knowing. “Never mind then.”

Hephaestus, the Olympian smithing god, was used to working inside a volcano. Made sense he’d want some lava in order to feel at home.

Sally was about to ask another question, but the sounds of the crowd breaking into cheers interrupted her. Danny and Sally turned towards the sound. The Dogcar, a white and purple vehicle that looks like a dog in car form, rolled to a stop. The gull-wing doors opened; I stepped out. The crowd cheered with whoops and wows followed by chants of “Dogboy! Dogboy!”

I approached Sally and Danny. The claws on my feet, which stick out from my black boots, clicked on the bridge’s concreate.

“What kept you?” asked Sally.

“I had to stop Blackfeather from stealing mail,” I said.

“Why on Earth would he steal mail?” asked Sally.

“He didn’t want to pay for the Cheese of the Month Club.”

Danny chose a groan from his Omni-Cuff digital sound board. 

I walked over to the car’s bumper.

“What’s up, dawg?” said the driver.

I knelt to pick up the car.

“Remember to lift with your legs,” said Danny.

I grabbed the bumper and let the telekinetic energy flow into the car. Golden lightning traveled down my arms and into the vehicle. The lightning was barely visible as it surrounded the car. I lifted the vehicle. It wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t light either. It was like lifting a bed mattress.

The phantasmic/psychic energy kept the car from falling apart under its own weight or from gravity.

I sat the car down. The cheering and applauding of the crowd drowned out the creaking and groaning of the car as the telekinetic energy faded from it and “normal” physics took hold.

“Thanks, Dogboy,” said the driver as medical workers assisted him.

“Yes, good job, Dogboy,” said Sally trying to stay professional but also wanting to cheer. “Now, what are you going to do about the lava?”

I glanced towards the edge of the bridge. “Does anyone have an ice pack?”

Copyright Joe Rover 2021. All rights reserved.

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!


The latest DOGBOY CHRONICLES book “The Lost Files: Episode 1” releases April 27.

Check out my links page for where you can order a copy!

Don’t Look a Gift Child in the Mouth | A Short Tail

Everyday Gift Child is forging new ways for you, our most valued customers, to receive the child of your dreams. 

Founded in 1879, Gift Child has been at the forefront of child procurement.

No task has been too great for us.

Did your neighbor’s child catch your eye? No problem. We’ll bring them to you in a matter of days. 

Need to transport a child across the border? Not an issue for Gift Child. We have agents all over the world.

Is your new child unruly? Always complaining about wanting to return to their “real” family? We have many available brainwashing techniques.

***

A man steps forward as the presentation ends. He clears his throat. “That was the past,” he says. “This is the future.” 

Video plays of DNA strands. The man continues. “We can now provide you with the perfect child thanks to genetic modification. Gone are the days of child abductions, trafficking, and brainwashing.”

The man paces the stage as images of random happy, smiling children appear on the screen. “We can now create the child you’ve always dreamed of. He, she, it, or they can be created any way you want. Perfect hair, perfect health, perfect personality.”

The man stops. New images of happy families replace the previous images. “The sky is literally the limit. A child that is athletic, artistic, or even more animal than human is right around the corner. The happiness of the customer is all that matters.”

The screen and stage go dark. A new voice says, “Gift Child, a subsidiary of Dark Net Unlimited, we breed children so you don’t have to.”

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!

Copyright Joe Rover 2021. All rights reserved.


B&N/Nook readers

Use the coupon BNPSAINTPAT50 to save 50% at checkout from 03/15/2021 to 03/19/2021 on Dragon Reign

The Secret Origins of La-Zar | Writing Warm-Up

The origins of La-Zar, an alien ninja marksmen and member of the International League of Super-Transbeings. La-Zar’s costume completely covers their body, so it is impossible to tell if they are male, female, or something else. The ILOST members use male and female pronouns trying to get a reaction out of La-Zar; it never works, so they call La-Zar male or female interchangeably.


La-Zar was trained to be a bounty hunter ninja by the Whispering Monks on Mount Silence on Planet Bob. Technically since it was on Planet Bob, the monks were called the Bobbing Bobs who resided on Bob Bob, but that name annoyed everyone else in the galaxy, so they were called the Whispering Monks of Mount Silence because they hadn’t spoken a word in over 2,000 years. Not that anyone cared because if they did speak it’d only be “Bob,” or maybe an occasional, “Bobby.”

The bobs (people) of Planet Bob were born with three eyes, but the third eye remained closed. Only through mediation and adherence to the commandments of their god, Jeff (go figure), would the eye open. Once accomplished, the bob reached their full potential.

According to their religion’s origin, one day a bob was able to say the word “Jeff.” The other bobs took it as a sign and decided “Jeff” was a sacred word spoken only by the chosen ones of Jeff.

The Whispering Monk ninjas teach their acolytes not to speak because if they did then everyone would know they came from Planet Bob which defeated the purpose of being a secretive ninja.

Hmm, maybe that’s why La-Zar never speaks. Maybe he/she is really a Bobby. Though some believe La-Zar came from the planet Australia. The rumor is that a gang of kola bears killed his/her parents. She/he wandered the desert plains until the kangaroo pirates found her/him. He/she joined the pirates until he/she learned of the Whispering Monks. La-Zar believed the Monks could teach him/her how to get revenge on the kolas that killed his/her parents.

After graduating, La-Zar received her/his first assignment. He was to kill Baron Hawk. The assignment and pay came from the ruling class of the planet Crunch.

La-Zar tracked her prey to Earth where she learned that Baron Hawk was an ILOST alpha. The rulers of Crunch wanted him dead because he inspired the 99 percent to revolt against the one percent. The rulers were losing the civil war and wanted vengeance while they still had the resources to do so.

La-Zar was unable to complete the mission. This resulted in La-Zar being exiled form the Whispering Monks. Fortunately, Baron Hawk knew of La-Zar’s existence and saw his potential. He offered him a place among the International League of Super-Transbeings heroes.

Copyright 2020 Joe Rover. All rights reserved.

Until next time…thanks for reading.


Smashwords End of Year Sale Dec. 18-Jan. 1

Dino Mall | Behind the Scenes

I had a silly and crazy dream. It starred this couple who were close to divorce. They accidently uncovered that their local mall has cloned extinct animals, such as dinosaurs, so they can operate the mall. The extinct animals make the food and maintain the building, among other chores.

Over time the couple learns that the owners, also a husband and wife duo, have cloned some cavemen/cavewomen to run things like the stores and food court thus kicking out the ones who used to work at the mall. They also replaced the mall cops with their own tougher security guards.

The dream ended with an epic battle between modern animals, like tigers and elephants, versus the extinct animals, like saber-tooth tigers and wooly mammoths. There are also teens in food vendor and department store uniforms battling the cave-workers. The mall cops were also there battling the security guards. The hero husband and wife took on the mall owners.

I woke up about the time the two forces collided.

“What on Earth did I eat before bed to get that dream?” I thought. I think it came from a mixture of watching the “The Golden Years” episode of The Commish on IMBd TV and the Jurassic Park dub video by How It Should Have Ended.

However, that being said, I am working on refining the dream into an upcoming story.

Who do you think would win in a fight between a tiger and a saber-tooth tiger? Let me know in the comments section.

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading.


Click image to go!

Hostage Night | Story Sample

The following is a sample from my current work in progress. It is unfinished so the final product may look different.

A 4,112 word short story about a date night gone wrong. Joe and Sally go to the movies but the theater is soon under siege.


“Oh wow!” said someone nearby. “You guys are seeing Dragon Reign?! That movie was great! I really liked the part when…” A holographic gag appeared over his mouth with the word “Spoilers” written across it. Even though he continued to speak, we couldn’t hear him.

Sally glanced over at me while the man waved his arms in excitement. “I love the new spoiler warning feature added during the latest Omni-Cuff update.”

Finally, the spoilers gag disappeared. “I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.” The man waved then faded into the crowd.

Copyright 2020 Joe Rover. All rights reserved.


Who wouldn’t want a spoilers gag feature added to their mobile device?

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading.


Click image to go!

Soul Evidence

The following was retrieved from archived news reports.

On Sept. 17 [REDACTED], shortly after the Dark Matter Victory (or DMV), Dr. Irma Kidding was the first scientist to successfully prove the existence of a soul. 

Akin to studying black holes, Kidding studied the effects a soul had on the world around it. Her research was verified through many repeat experiments done by various scientists. Soon after, the soul became a scientific fact. 

Three months later, her then assistant, Dr. Ivan Thunderclap, announced that the soul is the most powerful and abundant fuel source in existence.

Thunderclap later announced plans to create a machine that would harvest the afterlife for soul energy. 

“We’ve been looking for alternative fuel sources for generations. Now we have a never-ending one…everything dies,” stated Thunderclap.

When asked about the harm or moral implications harvesting the afterlife could cause, Thunderclap reported, “What do I care? The living needs this [power] more than the spirits. They’re dead after all. The dead have been taking up space in Paradise for far too long. Finally, they can be a use to us.”

Sadly three days after his announcement, Thunderclap’s laboratory was reportedly struck by lightning. He and all his research were destroyed in the blaze. Miraculously, the neighboring offices were left unharmed.

After Thunderclap’s demise, the scientific community decided that further research into souls would be banned. When asked the reason behind such a decision Dr. Harry Ion, chairman for the International Association of Scientists, stated, “We’re scientists, not idiots. We can take a hint…eventually.”

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!

Copyright 2020 Joe Rover. All rights reserved.

This post was a work of fiction.


The adventures continue in the Dogboy Universe

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