The Great Ostrich (A We Have Issues Fan Story)

A fan story inspired by the recent We Have Issues podcast episode. Check out their stuff here.

Eons ago, the Great Ostrich arrived on Earth from beyond time and space. It came with a purpose unfathomable to the human mind. But worry not, for the Ostrich now sleeps with its head buried in the sand. However when the stars are right, the Great Ostrich will stir and call forth its Chosen.

Not that many years ago…

Stephen rested on the couch after finishing the shading for panel three. His breath was slow and relaxed. His eyes moved back and forth in a state of pleasant REM. Then, the Voice interrupted his dream of dominating every player in a Magic: The Gathering tournament.

“Stephen,” said a Voice that reverberated in the artist’s bones like standing too close to the speakers at a rock concert.

Stephen twitched faintly.

“Stephen,” repeated the Voice.

The mere mortal’s dream changed to a barren land of darkness. Nothing existed except for the piece of land that he stood on. The Abyss peered into Stephen’s soul, and he felt an empty chill.

“Stephen,” said the bodiless voice. “I am the Great Ostrich, and I have chosen you to be one of my heralds.”

Stephen’s eyes brightened. “You mean like the Silver Surfer?”

“Hmm…kinda, but without the powers.”

Stephen snapped his fingers. “Drat!” He cleared his throat; his tone changed to a serious, albeit frightened, tone. “Why have you chosen me?”

“My reasons are my own!” bellowed the Voice causing the Abyss to shutter. Stephen cringed.

The Voice spoke softer. “It may or may not have to do with how awesome your hair is.”

“Thank you,” Stephen flipped part of his long hair behind him. “It does take some upkeep.”

The Voice returned to business. “I have chosen you to enact my glorious plans.”

“What plans are those?”

The Abyss rumbled with thunder. “Were you not paying attention when the Narrator was speaking?! My plans are unfathomable to the human mind!”

Stephen lowered his head. “Apologies, O Feathered One.”

“But you cannot complete my tasks alone. You must seek out the other I have chosen. He is known as Anthony. He has seen my true form, and it has driven him mad. He now dates robots and posts silly things on Twitter.”

“He sounds cool.”

“Don’t interrupt.”

“Sorry, my ostrich overlord.”

“Only together will you create my book, Deathless. It will spread across the globe carrying my word. Once you have reached 129 backers on Kickstarter, you will start The Colony.”

Stephen turned his head slightly skyward as if he could see the Voice. “Why 129? Why not 130?”

The Great Ostrich ignored the interruption. “The Colony will be a place for others to follow you and in turn follow me. You will serve them Kool-Aid made with dirt from the land I kick up with my mighty ostrich legs. They will gladly partake of it because it will increase their creativity a hundredfold. It will connect them to me. I will become their muse and whisper their truth.”

Stephen nodded his head. “Find co-conspirator, create unholy book of doom, set up sinister cult…mm-hmm, mm-hmm. Anything else?”

“One day, a writer will record this very tale. He is perhaps more insane than Anthony. I mean, he is spending precious time on a tale that won’t make him money and will probably go largely unnoticed. He should really be working on his own stories. He already has three chapters to edit and one to finish drafting.”

Yeesh! Now I’m being nagged at by some cosmic horror ostrich.

“Shh, Author, don’t spoil the immersion,” said the Ostrich Deity.

Too late for that.

“Where was I?” grumbled the cosmic beast.

You were telling people that they should check out my stories on Kindle Vella.

“No I wasn’t, and stop that. No one likes self-promotion.”

Stephen checked his watch as the Narrator and Ostrich continued to bicker. He sighed impatiently. It was almost lunchtime. Chili dogs sounded good.

The Great Ostrich sighed. “This is what I get for using creatives.” The Deity cleared whatever passed for a disembodied throat. He addressed Stephen, who was now sitting in a chair reading the latest Deadpool comic. Once the Ostrich started speaking, Stephen tossed the comic over his shoulder like a student getting caught reading a comic in class. He bolted out of the chair. “After the story is published, you will know it is time to begin phase 2 of The Plan.”

“And what is that?” asked Stephen.

“To meet Kevin Smith!”

Stephen’s neck and head jerked back a little in confusion. “Kevin Smith?”

“He is integral to my plan. He is being…prepared as we speak.”

The Ostrich voice laughed evilly. The universe seemed to twist and shake at the sound.

Stephen joined in the festivities.

“Uh, no,” said the Voice with a hint of disdain. “I get to laugh manically; you are a pawn; you get to stand there and bask in my glory.”

Stephen bowed. “Yes, my dark and beaked overlord.”

The Great Ostrich started laughing again.

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!

S3:E3 One Use

Joe: I finally replaced my pillow after 6 years. Now, to test it, and there is only one way to test a pillow.

Sally: Pillow fight?

Joe: OK, two.

Danny: Pillow fort?

Joe: OK, three ways.

Thanks for reading!


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S3:E2: Still Mad

Joe: Hey, Sally, you wanna see a movie this weekend?

Sally: No.

Joe: Oh. You busy?

Sally: No. I’m still mad at you, if you must know.

Joe: Mad at me? Is this about what happened in Borneo?

Sally: Uh-uh, no, we don’t talk about Borneo, no, no, no.

Share, like, and follow for more sci-fi/fantasy stories!

Thanks for reading!

S3:E1 Personal Hygiene

Joe: Danny, did you use my toothbrush?

Danny: Yeah.

Joe: Don’t do that.

Danny: Why not?

Joe: There’s a reason it’s called personal hygiene.

Thanks for reading!


Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Adventure. What More Could You Want?

The name is Joe Rover. Gamer. Writer. Superhero. With the help of my friends, I protect Megaton City from all sorts of villains whose only desire is chaos & destruction. 

S2: E5: Holiday Special

Click.

“Sir, this is Jack Frost, we have a situation. Carolers have taken over Plaza Pointe.”

“What are their demands?” the chief asked via the walkie-talkie.

“Figgy pudding, Sir, a lot of figgy pudding.”

We’ll return to Play Hard after these messages.

Click.

We now return you to Frosty, The Axe Man.

The kids were told not to play on the ancient burial ground, but they didn’t listen. They built a snowman and…

There must have been a curse upon that old hatchet they found.

For when they tied it to his branch, he begun to chase them down.

Oh! Frosty, the Axe Man, was a murderous soul they say.

With a bloody axe and gleeful grin, he’d cut you down to size.

Click.

“Where is OtherTime?” asked the girl.

Kevin Kronos pointed out the open window. “Fourth star on the left of Orion’s Belt and straight on till yesterday.”

“But how do we get there?”

“Faster than light travel, of course.”

“Huh?”

“Just obsess over a regret.”

“Any regret?” said the girl’s brother. “Like losing the big game?”

“Or yelling at a friend?” said the girl.

“That,” said Kevin, “and some tachyon particles.”

Click.

Once again it is time for that timeless holiday classic How The Grump Stole Everything.

Everyone in The City loved the winter fest, but The Grump did not. After years of bullying, mind games, and not being invited to join in the festivities, The Grump decided to steal the festival.

Late at night, The Grump sneaked into everyone’s homes. He not only stole their decorations, food, and presents, he stole their TVs and money and computer tablets.

Once done with his dastardly trick, he took the stuff to the dump to incinerate it. As he reached the dump, dawn started to break. He paused to enjoy their woeful cries. Instead, he heard the sounds of joy and of cheer. It was then The Grump learned the true meaning of the winter festival.

He quickly returned to The City. He confessed to the crime and explained his reasoning. The Citizens thanked him then locked him away—he’d broken the law after all.

To this day as The Citizens sing and shop, you can hear The Grump weep and wail from his jail cell.

The end.

Click.

A Dalmatian barked and howled and pointed over the edge of the catwalk.

“What is it, Rexxie?” said the power plant worker. “Did Sammy fall down the reactor well again.”

The Dalmatian snorted out a nod.

The worker got on his walkie-talkie. “We gotta shut down the plant. Sammy fell into the reactor well again.”

A voice come over the radio. “At least, we can plug him in once we find him.”

Click.

Once upon a time at the North Pole, there lived a reindeer with a very red nose.

Rudolph was teased endlessly by the other reindeer for his shiny, red nose. However one day, the laughter stopped as they realized his red nose was a symptom of a new strain of reindeer flu. Soon the disease spread across the North Pole, and by Christmas everyone had stuffy red noses.

Thanks to Rudolph, Santa was unable to make his rounds. He had to order and ship everything through a little known online shop. Thousands of packages were delivered by drone to all the children of the world. When everyone saw how much more efficient drones were, everyone started shopping at MasterMart. Rudolph’s red nose kept the business in the black that year. In fact, the company was able to grow and expand.

Rudolph saved Christmas and the global economy. He paved the way for a much more commercial and material Christmas. You really will go down in history, Rudolph.

This has been Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Plague Carrier, a MasterMart production.

Click.

I turned off the holo-screen. I sighed. “Why is there never anything good on during Christmas time?”


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S2:E4 This is a Fundraiser!

The older couple left the theater at about nine at night. It was raining, so they decided to take a shortcut through the dark alleyway. The sounds of their feet splashing through the puddles echoed off the old brick walls. The man’s gold watch caught the sparse light. The woman nervously played with her pearl necklace.

The couple stopped short when they saw the dark figure at the other end of the alleyway. The figure carried an object in the shape of a baseball bat. The couple gasped. The shape stepped more into the little light the alleyway provided. It was a teenage boy dressed in a Century High School baseball uniform and cap. He tapped the bat against the palm of his left hand like a thug threatening a victim; a moment later, he stopped to address the couple.

“Good evening, folks,” he said with a smile in his voice, “my name is Jeffery Marks. Recently, the Century High School’s athletic budget was cut. The student body decided on a crime spree fundraiser. I’m going alley to alley robbing people to help provide for new sports equipment such as basketballs and weight-lifting equipment. I would appreciate it if you’d empty your pockets of any money and other valuables.”

“No problem,” said the man. “Anything to help in the education of our youth.” The man removed $50 from his wallet and handed over his watch. The woman handed over her pearl necklace and diamond ring.

“Thank you, Sir…Madam,” said the teen with a polite nod to the woman. “We appreciate your support. This will go a long way to supporting programs that keep us off the streets and out of the gangs.” He started to turn to leave then stopped. “Oh! Do you need a receipt for your taxes?”

“No; we’re good,” said the man.

He tipped his cap. “Good evening, Ma’am…Sir.” He turned then left the alley.

“What a nice, young man,” said the woman. “So well-mannered and taking the time to help his school.”

The man nodded. “And they say the kids of today aren’t civic minded.”

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading.


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S2:E3 Tales We Won’t Tell at Night

Good reader specific time frame, all you spooks and specters of the Internet. My name is the Bonekeeper. I unearth all the tales that should remain rotting within the hallow walls of the Storybook Graveyard. Today, I’ve dug up a delightfully delicious treat just for you. Sit back, turn off the lights, and gnaw on this bone of a tale.

Suzie, cheerleading captain and favorite for homecoming queen, walked home late one night after a victorious basketball game. The winds whispered and the fall leaves danced. Suzie smiled to herself knowing that tomorrow the victory would be coupled with her favorite day of the school year: picture day.

She abruptly stopped. A leftover instinct from primeval times gripped at her gut like bad sushi. She was being watched.

“Whoever this is,” she said in a voice trying to be strong, “this isn’t funny. Trying to scare someone is so 1980s horror film.”

She paused and listened. The only sound was the beating of her own heart.

There was no sound, no movement, yet she felt the Presence moving closer to her.

Closer and closer.

Fear wrapped around her like a hungry snake. She felt as stiff as a corpse as the Presence grew closer. She wanted to run, to scream, but the horror held her still.

The Presence loomed over her with the Chill of Death. She did not want to turn and face the terror, but she turned nonetheless. It was as if the Presence commanded her movements. She felt void of will. The Presence demanded attention, and she could do nothing but oblige.

The form of her stalker focused in from the eternal night. It was a humanoid figure with a giant mirror for a head.

Suzie screamed, a sound that some say still haunts the town to this day. For in the mirror, Suzie saw…she had a pimple.

Well frightful fiends of the digital age, that concludes today’s bone-chilling tale. Join me next time for another stroll through the Storybook Graveyard; we’ll see what other undying tales we can dig up. But be warned, brave reader, some tales are best left untold.

Aah-hahahahahaha!!

Grazer: A Ghostbusters Parody

The things I do to avoid editingThe following is a parody of the first Ghostbusters movie.

When there’s something bland in the neighborhood, who’re gonna call?

Food Fighters!

***

EXT: Apartment roof, Night

A giant tomato, Grazer, growls at the team of Food Fighters. 

Grilled Cheese Warrior: I thought Grazer was a giant broccoli!

Rocket Ravioli: It can be whatever it wants.

Grilled Cheese Warrior: What do we do?

Captain Heartburn: I have an idea. Go get it, PP.

Pasta Patroller gulps then approaches the sentient tomato.

Pasta Patroller: As a representative of the Newton School for Culinary Arts, I demand you halt this invasion and return to your dimension of origin.

Grazer: Are you a chef?

Pasta Patroller: No.

Grazer: Then BROIL!

The team is hit by high-energy beams and knocked back.

***

Grazer: Choose the form of the Destructor.

Pasta Patroller: We don’t understand.

Captain Heartburn: I get it. Whatever we think of, it’ll appear and destroy us. If we think of Gordon Ramsay then Gordon Ramsay will appear and destroy us.

The team takes a moment to shake off that nightmarish thought.

Captain Heartburn: Empty your minds.

Grazer: The choice has been made.

Captain Heartburn: We didn’t choose anything. I didn’t choose anything. (He addresses the rest of the team) Did you choose anything?

The team turns to the guilty-looking Pasta Patroller. 

Captain Heartburn: PP, what did you do?

Pasta Patroller: I didn’t mean to. It just popped in there. I tried to pick something that would never hurt us.

Off screen: A loud roar reverberates.

Pasta Patroller: It’s the mascot for Lovely’s Chicken Farm. It’s Sam N. Ella.

(Captain Heartburn smacks Pasta Patroller on the back of the head): You thought something called salmonella would be safe?

Pasta Patroller: Ohhh! I see it now. Yeah.

***

Rocket Ravioli: We only have one option to stop Grazer. We have to cross contaminate.

Captain Heartburn: But, Rocket, you said cross contamination is a bad thing.

Pasta Patroller: Cross contamination? Of course! A full spoilage reversal!

The team sets their microwave blasters to 425 degrees and fires at the killer tomato. They slowly move the beams closer together until they touch. The beams cause Grazer and the mega-giant chicken farm mascot to explode spraying the team with bits of food.

Rocket Ravioli: Is everyone OK?

(Captain Heartburn wiping off the tomato innards the best he can): I’ve been juiced.

END.

Don’t forget to like, follow, and comment!

Until the next wormhole…thanks for reading!

Pretend Comic-Con Post But With Real Writing Updates

Since Comic-Con is happening and all these creative people are showcasing upcoming events, I figured I’d give you a preview/update of events. Many of these stories are still in the brainstorming stage so they may or may not actually bear fruit.

I am still working on The Capstone Saga where the capstone from the Great Pyramid returns to destroy the world. A few of the episodes have been published on Amazon.

I’m also working on a story series based on the #vss365 prompts on Twitter. The story is about Blue Light Technologies (BLT) ordering everyone to take a vacation thus leaving the Creation Orb unattended. With the Orb unattended, it produces “wild magic.” I’m working on a way to compile the posts into a story. You should be able to search for it through #TheCatsAway and #DogboyChronicles. The first post should be here.

Other potential stories include:

Wolfborne: While on a mission, the hero is captured and brainwashed into believing he is part of a cult.

The Doomsday Clock: Time is running out for the world. Midnight has struck.

The Supers vs. The Machines: Rouge Muses decide to create a Metaverse by turning creatives and characters into machines.

Until the next wormhole…have a fun Comic-Con (however you’re celebrating) and thanks for reading!

Kitty on the Prowl

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the host of the Back Alley Club, “Miss Sasha La Purr!”

The cats clapped their paws; the dogs howled; and the birds whistled while the host left the stage. A spotlight appeared at stage left. A leg with white fur and long-heeled shoes peeked out from the exit/entrance. The crowd hollered louder. Miss La Purr, a white cat with some black stripes along the face, slowly entered the stage. She walked slowly to the microphone letting each new howl and whistle wash over her. She gripped the microphone. Finally, the crowd faded into silence. She nodded softly to the band of mice. The saxophone player began with a soft, slow tune. Soon the others joined in creating a playfully romantic song.

“You think I’m cute. But, honey, I’ve got claws and teeth to boot.

Don’t be fooled when I’m on the prowl…boys.

A sway of my hips, and a bat of my eyes, 

my attacks are neigh when the moon is high.

Perfume in the air beckons you to come near. Ruby red lips that hold your gaze.

You’ll never see it coming when I’m on the prowl.

Your soul I’ll steal with a ‘purr’ and a “hmm.’

A tail around your throat, and a gentle squeeze.

When I’m on the prowl, I always win.

Slashes and yowls are fine for some, but 

there are other ways to skin a cat.”

The audience whistled as Miss La Purr slinked off the stage; she winked at a patron sitting by himself.


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