Blog Love Omega Glee: The Secret Origin Of The Cleaveland Coyote (15 September 2012)

Once upon a time there was a little boy whose mother died and whose father had long since run off to parts unknown. The parents were from different backgrounds, which sounds very romantic like Romeo and Juliet until you remember that those lovers both ended up dead at a tragically young age (all lovers, like everyone else, end up dead eventually, but dead old lovers aren't as tragic, which arguably doesn't make much sense since, you know, dead old lovers have been lovers for decades, which makes it sad when they have to part after so much time, whereas Romeo and Juliet being young twits--Well, how would you describe them? Read the actual play and then try to tell yourself that they aren't twits. It won't work--might have gotten sick of one another a couple of years later and broken up, but enough about R&J and back to the boy and his parents). But the different backgrounds the boy's parents were from weren't just being from different parts of town, though their differences did manifest in that manner, nor were the boy's parents' backgrounds just a matter of different social class or how much wealth one family had piled up in comparison to the other, though their differences manifested that way, nor was the difference just of culture, though that too was all a part of it. Most of the differences were based on that they looked different from one another and not different in the sense that everyone looks different from one another but different in the sense that human beings make a big deal of too much: their skin color was different. So the boy's mother's parents didn't want to take him in since he was mixed and what would their whitey white neighbors think, so the boy's father's mother sighed and took him in and, having just finished raising one son, started raising another.

This time she vowed to do it right.

The grandmother emphasized politeness and thinking of others, not just oneself, upon the boy. She was as much pleased with the boy as she had been displeased with his father who had taken too much after his father whom she had shown the door many years before after one too many whores had come into their marriage. She had her Bible and she had her grandson and she was happy.

She also had her years and when the boy had not long become a man and had a fine job as a schoolteacher being a role model for other boys all too often fatherless themselves, she died. She died, being proud of her grandson, though she knew pride was a danger. Still, he was the politest, most thoughtful person she ever knew, even if he did spend too much time reading those comic books and not enough playing outside. She had read some of those comics herself and wondered at how many of those heroes--Superman, Batman, Spider-Man--were lost little boys without fathers as well. Maybe that was the attraction for him. In any case, they certainly helped with his reading and since he did well in school she had seen no harm in them, even when he had continued to read them into adulthood.

She had worried about whatever would happen to him when she was gone, but when she was gone what happened was he just kept her bedroom exactly as it was and closed the door. Then he had a nervous breakdown, quit his job, rented the other rooms out to bring some money in, read comics constantly, and tried to avoid going outside where people were ruder everyday.

One day someone told him the world would end on December 21, 2012, but he didn't care much since his world ended long ago the day his grandmother--the only person he ever loved and whom he feels ever loved him--died.

He did start reading his comics faster though.

It would be a shame to have the world end with comics yet unread.

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Blog Love Omega Glee: Monarchy Is Mockery But A Royal Massage Is Really Marvelous (14 September 2012)

"How come we didn't just take the turnpike?" Jake asks from the backseat of North's car, as they drive through Streetsboro on Route 14 on their way to a wrestling show in Youngstown.

"Because we'd have to pay a toll and I'm cheap," North says, steering their way past abandoned stripmalls.

"This lad will go far in indie wrestling. He's already learned the first lesson: 'If you can get it for free, then don't pay a fee'." Ringo says, looking up from his phone, "Say this show is near Warren, do you want to stop in at one of the Asian massage parlors there after the show?"

"Doesn't that go against your philosophy?" Jake says.

"Heh," Ringo says, "Not really though. The second lesson is 'Some things are worth paying for'."

"I don't know, man. Oc would be mad if I did that," North says.

"Oc? I thought you broke up with her. Isn't that why she didn't come with us?" Ringo asks.

"Well that and she had a mean hangover that made her pretty mean. But we break up twice a week so I don't know that I regard this latest breakup as substantial. It's more like breaking up is just part of our relationship."

"Please tell me you don't do that just for the makeup sex," Jake says, slapping his forehead with his hand.

"OK, I won't," North says.

"Well, what about you Jake? You and Francine are just friends now, right? She wouldn't mind," Ringo says, looking back.

"Er, Uh, Um," Jake says.

"Never mind. Let's just go to Waffle Whiz afterwards," Ringo says, sighing.

"Oh, we went there last time. How about Fish Taco King instead?" North says.

"No, the king can take his fish taco and shove it up his sovereign ass," Ringo says, "I refuse to go to any place named after royalty."

"Why's that?" Jake says.

"Because kings suck. Queens suck. Princes suck. Princesses suck. Dukes suck. Duchesses suck. Barons suck. Baronesses suck. Lords suck. Ladies suck. Earls suck. Whatever the fuck a female earl is called sucks too. Counts suck. Countesses suck. You get the idea. They're just the lazy descendants of some thugs who pushed the poor people around. The only thing lazier than them are people in their countries who haven't broken out the guillotine yet. I can't believe there's still royalty in the 21st century. And I can't believe people, especially in this country that got rid of their king, think kings are good enough to name restaurants and stuff after. People are stupid."

North points to a billboard, "What about that though? It says 'Asian Queen Spa' and ask for the 'Royal Special'."

"That would fall under the third lesson: 'There are always exceptions to rules'." Ringo says.

"As long as they bring about a 'happy ending', eh?" Jake says, "Well, you guys are the ones working tonight so you make the pick but I vote for Waffle Whiz."

"Speaking of whizzes, I hope we get there soon," North says, "I have to use the restroom."

"Just pull over, we won't be late," Ringo says.

"Thanks, you're a real prince," North says, steering the car onto the berm.

Ringo glares at him.

"Oops!" North says, "I meant to say 'pal'. Sorry!"

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Great Reading!

Thanks to everyone who came out to yesterday's reading--it was a lot of fun!

Blog Love Omega Glee: Who Would Steal A 1987 Buick LeSabre? (13 September 2012)

Francine weighs the three pound bag of apples in the scale at the supermarket on Believer Square, which is imaginatively titled Supermarket On Believer Square, and finds that it actually has three and a half pounds of apples in it. Pleasantly surprised, she places the bag in her buggy and wheels into the bread aisle where she finds Chris and Chris having an argument over which brand of Erin's Birthday Bagels to buy.

"We had cinnamon raisin last time," blonde-haired Chris says.

"But I hate onion," brown-haired Chris says.

"Hi, guys!" Francine says, then kicks herself mentally for using a potentially-gendered term of address.

Chris and Chris don't seem to take offense though and say in unison, "Hi, Francine!"

Francine wheels her buggy past them so that she doesn't block the aisle for other shoppers and says, "What's going on?"

"Oh, don't get Chris started," brown-haired Chris says.

"Why? What's up?" Francine asks.

Chris and Chris look at one another. "Do you want to tell her?" Chris says.

"I'm sick of telling the story. You tell her," Chris says.

"All right," Chris says, exasperated, "But we're getting cinnamon raisin then."

"Fine."

Francine is quietly about to wheel off when brown-haired Chris says, "Chris had his car stolen yesterday."

"Oh my God! That's terrible! What happened?"

"Well, he went out to go to work, and you know how he has to park on the street because our crazy apartment building had a postage stamp-sized space for a parking lot and so we only have one spot. So anyway he goes around the corner to where he parked and his car's not there. There's just a pile of broken glass. So he calls the cops and they already found his car. It was a couple of miles away in the middle of the hood by a boarded up house. It had been stripped of everything just about so the cops impounded it and Chris had to stand in line and pay to get his stolen car back."

"That stinks! Did you have a car alarm or anything?"

"No, I thought it being a 1987 Buick LeSabre was theft deterrent enough, but apparently not," blonde-haired Chris says, "When I went down to the impound lot, the car was missing a bunch of parts. It looked as if they needed a couple parts for their ancient car, so instead of heading to the junkyard, they just stole my car instead."

"Did you get it back?"

"No, I decided it wasn't worth fixing, so I just sold it to some wrecker. He can get it out of the impound lot. I sold it for less than the impound fee."

"I can't believe the city of Cleaveland charged you to get your stolen car back."

"That's ok. I can't believe I was dumb enough to move into Cleaveland."

"Oh, so we're moving now?" Chris says.

Francine bids adieu and wheels her buggy out of the bread aisle as Chris and Chris start another argument.

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Blog Love Omega Glee: A Loser Leaves The Tip Match (12 September 2012)

"I see they don't capitalize the little words on this menu," Ringo says, holding up the diner menu for Francine, Jake, North, and Oc to see at the table in the diner where they have gone after tonight's wrestling show, "If I weren't so hungry, I'd boycott this place."

"If I weren't so hungry, I wouldn't be here either because you two . . ." Oc says, pointing at North and Ringo, ". . . stink. Why didn't you shower after your match?"

"I was hungry," North says, looking up from his menu, "And, in any case, I don't think the Masonic lodge has a shower."

"That was a weird place for a wrestling show," Francine says, dropping her menu to the table, "Is the promoter a Mason?"

"No, but he is a cheapskate and the Masons rent out the hall cheaply when they aren't having a meeting," Jake says, still wondering why Francine sat next to Ringo instead of next to him.

"That reminds me. What do we say if any fans see us together, man? We just had a match and we're supposed to hate each other," North says, looking nervously around the diner.

"Tell them it was a loser leaves the tip match and you have to buy me dinner," Ringo says, rubbing the scruffy stubble on his face, "Actually, that's a good stipulation. We'll have to do that sometime."

"How about you buy me dinner? You sold enough autographed photos at intermission that you should be able to afford it. Plus you hit me too hard with that folding chair," North says.

"How is the arm, by the way?" Ringo says.

North winces and lifts his right arm up, "It should be fine. Don't worry about it."

"Sorry, I got a little carried away with the chair. It was a good match and sometimes when that happens I get a little too caught up in the emotions," Ringo says, sheepishly.

"Hey, man, it's all good. That was the biggest match of my career. I appreciate you putting me on as your opponent," North says.

Oc sticks her hands up and starts pretending that they're talking to one another, "'Oh, Pamphleteer, you're so sexy, I want to have your babies.' 'Oh, North, maybe we should be gay so we can touch one another without beating one another up.' 'Yadda yadda yadda.' 'Blah blah blah.' Why you two get a room and get it over with already?!"

Everyone looks at one another and stays quiet. Fortunately, the server, a harried woman in the middle years of her existence, comes by with a tray of drinks which she starts doling out.

"Doesn't this place serve any real drinks? I thought you told me they had liquor? I only want coffee this time of night if it's got whiskey in it," Oc says to North.

"No, I said it was a diner and we'd get served quicker. Didn't you have enough to drink at the show? I thought you finished your flask off before you threw it at that heckler in the front row," North says.

Oc turns her face to him and says, "Whatever! I'll be at the bar next door. You can use my lemonade to bathe your underarms."

As she walks out, Ringo says, "Ah, love. I sure don't miss that."

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Blog Love Omega Glee: Who Remembers The Maine? (11 September 2012)

Leaving a ribbon-cutting ceremony for a new building on the site of the World Trade Center complex in New York City, Dick is helped into a specially converted limousine Hummer that can accommodate his vending machine body. Louis Carson Fir and Chess the dog wait in the back seat where Chess has been chewing on Fir's red white and blue tie while Fir feverishly taps away at his cell phone. "Ah, Fir! Just the person I'm looking for!" Dick says, as the Hummer shakes with his settlement inside.

"Hello, sir!" Fir looks up briefly, then continues tapping away.

As the Hummer speeds away along with the rest of the presidential motorcade, Chess hops across the seat to Dick and licks his side.

"Good girl!" Dick says to her, then to Fir, "Well, I doubt we'll get much mileage out of this ceremony. I think we've milked 9/11 dry."

"Well, it happens, sir. Americans have short memories. I mean who remembers the Maine anymore?"

"The Maine?"

"My point exactly, sir. People say they'll remember forever, but they quickly forget they ever even said that."

"Hmm . . . it'd be a shame with all the new construction they're doing there, but maybe we can just blow those buildings up again."

"Risky, sir. Even if you blamed it on terrorists again, your opponents might see it as an opportunity to prove that your national security policies weren't working. That same trick might not work twice."

"Well, at least we got a good decade of war and control out of it. What's the latest poll figures, anyway?"

"The real ones or the fake ones, sir?"

"The real ones, you idiot. I know we're ahead in the fake ones. That's why they're fake."

"Not good, sir. Even with Lovemoney out, you're still in fourth place."

"What?" Dick's tentacles flail in the air.

"Well, the Green Party candidate Someold Hippie took his place. Even though the Libertarians and Greens are ideological opposites, many voters don't care about such distinctions. They just know they don't like the major parties so they switch to another third party candidate rather than one of the major party candidates."

"That Lovemoney son of a bitch. We paid him a lot of money to drop out and we didn't get anything for it? That's a slick bastard. I respect that. I could use some talent like that working for me instead of the morons I have currently. No offense, Fir. You're not a moron. You're just an idiot. Remind me to appoint Lovemoney the next time a Cabinet position opens up."

"Noted, sir," Fir pauses, after checking his phone, "In any case, sir, the real third party threat is Couscous. She started as a joke, but she could actually win."

"Can't we dig up some dirt on her?"

"She's a porn star, sir. There's nothing in her closet but more dildos, I'm afraid."

"Hmm . . . maybe we can have her or Polipo meet a tragic end. That worked that time with Wellstone."

"I don't think so, sir. Remember that can backfire as well. Remember when the dead man beat Ashcroft in the Senate race."

"Well, any corpse would have more charisma than Ashcroft, but point taken. It's risky. I know that," Dick sighs and presses on the painted American flag pin on his chest to make a can of Poca-Cola clunk out beneath his tie.

Dick grasps the can with one of his noodly appendages, pops the tab, and glugs it down. He burps loudly, crushes the can, and throws it into the front seat where it hits a Secret Service agent in the back of the head. "Sorry about that, Chief!" Dick yells, then turns to Fir, "I swear this campaigning stuff is stressful. It's no wonder I just canceled the last election and skipped it all. It's a damn shame we can't do that again this time. I think I'm going to take up smoking. Fir, can you get me some Cubans?"

"Yes, sir."

"You know that's illegal, don't you?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Fortunately for you, I am the law, and I'll write an executive order exempting you from the ban on trade with Cuba," Dick sighs, "I can't believe that goddamn superflu mutated and just turned into a case of the sniffles."

"We could try the voter implant idea again?" Fir says, the last syllable hanging hopefully in the air before plummeting like an old-fashioned bomb dropped on Europe during World War II.

"Are you nuts? Congress is running from me as it is. If I tried that again, I'd alienate even the hardcore loons still with me. None of them want to end up beaten with pancakes by senior citizens like Corporatewhore did. Especially this close to an election."

Fir tries to cover his nose nonchalantly.

"What's the matter, Fir? Is my head stinking again? It's this goddamn heat. I can't wait until my new body's ready and I don't have any organic parts anymore. Those stupid liberals and their fetish for eating organic food. Organic, shmorganic. Machines are where it's at, Fir. Machines are the future. Flesh is just the egg we crawled out of. In any case, I apologize for the smell of my remaining meat."

"No, sir. It's not you. It's just New York. It smells. There are too many immigrants and minorities here," Fir says, pinching his nose.

"You sound like a robot, Fir. Maybe I should get you a new body too. You wouldn't have to limp anymore," Dick says, then yells at the driver, "Turn up the air conditioning! Something stinks back here besides the campaign!"

"That's very kind of you, sir."

"I didn't do it for you, Fir. I just couldn't stand to watch you pinch your nose any longer. You started to look like my wife, and I've looked at her for too many years already. Well, what are we going to do, Fir? Even with the fixes on the voting machines, I don't know that we can pull this election off."

"Leave it to me, sir."

"I don't know, Fir. Maybe I should just loot the rest of the treasury and call it a day. My mother, Fir, she used to sing me a lullaby when I was young. Fir, will you sing me a lullaby?"

"Sir?"

"Sleep, sleep, sleep, baby, baby, baby . . ." Dick mumbles, his eyes shutting.

Chess barks.

Fir starts to sing to the rhythm of the wheels as the motorcade heads to the airport.

Blog Love Omega Glee is a novel by Wred Fright about two bloggers who fall in love while the world falls apart, which is being serialized on his blog. To start reading from the beginning or read another installment, please visit Blog Love Omega Glee Central on WredFright.Com. If you like what you've read, or you've read all of Blog Love Omega Glee and want more Fright, then please read his first novel.

Wred Fright Reading On July 11th!

The last time I did a reading was on July 11th back in 2008, and the next time I'm doing a reading is on July 11th of this year. There's nothing special about that date, but maybe I should rename it Reading Day in light of the coincidence, and give a reading every year on that date (er, probably not . . . but it is a nifty idea--let me know what you think in the Comments section). In any case, Mike Faloon and James Jay are touring to promote their new books from Gorsky Press, and Ohio author Erika Meyers and I will join them at The Barking Spider Tavern (11310 Juniper Road in Cleveland, Ohio 44106 USA--behind The Coffee House At University Circle near Case Western Reserve University). The festivities should start at 6 p.m. unless they start at 5 p.m. instead (I'll try to get some clarification on that for you). It's free, so come on out for some bookish fun!