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 O'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!

New Book By Crazy Carl!

Crazy Carl and I toured together in 2007 when our novels came out from the ULA Press, and I've always been a big fan of his work, so I'm quite excited to announce that he has a new book out. It's called Bloodreal and features material from Fat On The Vine, as well as excerpts from his subsequent novels (Dead In The Head and My Parents' Medicine, both of which I hope someone will publish in their entirety someday) and uncollected and newer work. It's sort of a greatest hits, a Crazy Carl reader. I get quoted inside it commenting on his work in general, but I haven't read all of this book yet. Let me tell you though, it's going to the top of my reading pile! And, by the way, the "Wred" in the book is quite fictional . . .

Blog Love Omega Glee: Typing In Tongues (10 September 2012)

Since August, Mom has written 175,918 words of her new Bible. She just gets on the computer and lets it flow, baby! The holy spirit pours through her and comes out at the tap tap tap of her fingers and she can tap tap tap very fast, let me tell you. Monique the cat usually jumps in her lap and occasionally puts a paw on the keyboard and makes a contribution before meowing and jumping off to go visit her fooddish or take a nap. Tonight, Mom's almost done, and just working on her version of Revelations, which so far just involves a nice recipe for lamb chops so no one gets hungry when Famine, one of the four horsemen of the Apocalypse, shows up. Actually, the horsemen are far too scary. She'll make them handsome, dashing chaps, who ride in as disaster comes down and sweep her heroine, Sue (she kept the same characters throughout the Bible; all the character changes in the old Bible are too confusing for today's reader, who wants an Oprah style tale of self-empowerment and not vengeful villagers chopping off foreskins and heads for revenge), off to save her from a landslide or something so she can be safe and warm in the arms of Jesus. In fact, why not end there? That's a happy ending. Why blow up the world at all? Let's just skip the big battle and have peace and love. The big horseback galloping rescue scene should be enough action to please the male reader. She wants kids to read it too so she can't make it too scary. Maybe she'll throw in some kittens and puppies for the kids.

She clicks "Save" just as her husband comes into the study and complains that she spends all her time on the computer, just like her son. "Is it a commercial break?" she says, and he mumbles his way back to the living room and the television.

She leans back and sighs. She scrolls through the file and thinks that God's message is transcribed right this time, not garbled like in those versions the old men made, where people were always fighting and trying to settle old scores and nursing old grudges and swindling the suckers. Well, might as well get it started, she thinks. She logs into her email and reads some of the latest email forwards from her friends. There are some funny ones about people at Mart Mart today. She hits "Select All" and "Copy" and then pastes the new Bible into a new email. Hmm . . . 175,000 words might be a bit long for an email forward, and the whole point is to get people to read it. Maybe she should edit it down first. What should she take out though? She already took out all the really boring stuff from the old Bibles, those lists of who begot whom and where and where not to eat a goat when a woman is menstruating. What could she cut down? "Well, what's the most important part of the message?" she thinks and decides, "How to live and why!"

Maybe she can get it down to the length of a Twitter Tweet. That's real popular today. She doesn't use it herself but she knows people read them. She clicks on over to Twitter and signs up.

140 characters?!

Maybe she can do an email forward size version and then a condensed version for Twitter and cell phone text messaging. Maybe she can even add some graphics to accompany the bullet points, of which there are many. Maybe she can make it a YouTube video. People like to watch those.

It looks like she'll be here for a while. She just hopes one can edit glossolalia because typing in tongues is one thing, but editing in tongues is probably another.

Monique the cat comes back and jumps on her lap. She sticks a paw out and presses "Delete" and all the selected text disappears. "Monique!" Mom screams and the frightened cat jumps and runs off.

Mom hits "Undo" and the text comes back.

Hmm . . . what to get rid of?

God probably has to make this kind of decision a lot.

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: The Coyote Howls Again! (9 September 2012)

It was easier being a superhero when he wasn't dating someone. Now The Coyote has to make all sorts of strange excuses to Masani to explain why he disappears for hours on end at night. Plus he has to sneak out his bedroom window and stuff a mannequin into his bed in case anyone looks in on him sleeping. Masani is too polite to ever come in the room without knocking and getting permission first but Francine might burst in to tell him that a water pipe broke or about some other house issue. If so, he hopes she'll see the mannequin and think he's sleeping and let him be.

He found the mannequin in a dumpster behind a clothing store that had gone out of business on Believer Square, and he has grown so fond of it that he has considered making it his sidekick. He could leave it on a nearby rooftop when confronting a litterbug and point to his partner standing majestically above peering down. Batman is right. Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly lot. So maybe the ominous figure high above would convince the litterbug to throw her or his trash away in a proper receptacle. The Coyote is even thinking about giving the mannequin a cape so it could wave in the wind and the heroic figure on the rooftop would look even more impressive. The Coyote wanted a cape himself but decided that he'd only trip on it so he nixed the idea, but he has always secretly wanted one, perhaps only to wear on formal occasions because nothing says "superhero" like a cape. The mannequin will also likely be a better partner than Chip-Chop or any of the other members of The Justice Junto Of Ohio. However, if he takes the mannequin out on patrol, he can't leave it in his bed.

Hmm . . . maybe he can find another mannequin in the dumpster.

After climbing out the window, he looks longingly at his mannequin safe in bed. He almost whispers "sweet dreams" to it before he remembers that it's a mannequin and mannequins probably don't dream. Straightening his new wolf tie--he still can't find one with a coyote on it--and making sure his Coyote mask is on tight, he prowls the neighborhood. The streets are quiet and he only hears the wind gently shake some leaves from the trees loose as he passes the sleeping houses. It won't be long until fall is here, The Coyote thinks. He cuts down the alley behind the shops on the nearest corner of the square. He picks up some trash next to a dumpster and wonders why people are so lazy they can't throw trash away when there's a huge trash can right next to them. He opens up the black plastic dumpster lid and throws the trash inside. While doing so, some cola spills from a cup onto his right glove so he wipes it off on his suit. People are disgusting, he thinks, can't they ever show some consideration for others? Still holding up the dumpster lid with his left hand, he digs out his flashlight with his right hand and shines it in the dumpster. There's nothing obvious on top, just some flattened cardboard boxes and the trash he just tossed in. He watches the cola from the cup spill out and stain the top cardboard box, like evil seeping across the city. He thinks, "Isn't that the way it always is? One jerk can ruin things for everyone else." He leans in deeper and uses his head and then his back to balance the dumpster lid open so he can use one hand to hold the flashlight and the other to see what's beneath the boxes, which is basically more flattened boxes and the remnants of a couple lunches, which smell awful. Being careful not to get ketchup or any other food sauces on his gloves, he brushes the lunches aside. Ah, ha! he thinks. He sees what looks like long hair in the corner. Could it be? Could it be a mannequin with a wig? What a lucky find! He pulls back the boxes and finds what looks to be a female mannequin. Hmm . . . he hadn't thought of having a female sidekick, but that could be cool, maybe she could be Ms. Coyote or She-Coyote or Coyetette or something. He pushes more boxes aside and grabs hold of the wig but it doesn't pull free from the head. It must be attached. He doesn't want to pull too hard on it and rip anything so he digs for an arm to scoop the mannequin out of the dumpster with. He sticks his left hand below the hair and grabs an arm, but it isn't hard like a mannequin arm. It's soft.

It's not a mannequin.

It's a body.

A dead body.

The Coyote pulls back in disgust. The dumpster lid snaps down with a thundering clamp. The Coyote's heart beats faster. He becomes aware of his breathing. His mask feels suffocating. He tears it off to breathe and drops to a crouch. He almost vomits, then claws his mask back on. What would Batman do? Probably bring the body back to the Batcave, but The Coyote doesn't have a Coyotecave.

He runs to the last remaining pay phone in the square by the train station and calls the police.

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: God, I'm Calling You Out! (8 September 2012)

It's Grapple Groove time! Over the protests of his father who wanted to watch golf for another five hours, Jake takes control of the television and tunes into wrestling just in time to hear sinister guitars, stomping drums, and women wailing, announcing Mark Cain's entrance into the ring. Cain, a beefy tanned white guy with a tattooed face, slouches down into the ring, rolling beneath the bottom rope and then slithering to his feet. A microphone drops from above the ring and the music cuts out as Cain snarls at the crowd.

"He doesn't look happy tonight," one of the announcers, Felix Fatality, says.

"When does he ever look happy?" Steve Dore, the other announcer, asks.

Cain takes the microphone and grips it like a rope tossed to a drowning man, "There's only so much a man can take before he breaks."

The crowd starts to boo. Cain waits for the audience to calm down a bit, then continues, "And I've taken a lot. I'm on the road for my job, so my wife's been screwing around on me behind my back, then when she finds out one of her lovers has been cheating on her, she posts on Facebook about how sad, hurt, and betrayed she is, and all my family and friends think I've been doing something wrong while I'm on the road and yell at me about it. Meanwhile, all I'm doing is working my ass off, but this so-called wrestling company hasn't given me a championship shot in months. Then I went to get my latest tattoo and it was supposed to say 'Born To Lose' but I fell asleep and the tattoo artist couldn't spell and I ended up with 'Born Too Loose'. That was the final straw. That was the camel's back snapping. That was the end. I'm calling you out. I'm sick of this. God, get down to ringside. I'm going to kick your ass!"

"Who's he calling out?" Fatality says.

"I don't know," Dore says.

Nobody shows up at the stage at the end of the ringside ramp, nor does anyone'e entrance music play. Cain just stands in the center of the ring hitting himself on the forehead with the microphone. A bit of blood starts to trickle down into his eyes. He drops the mike and paces back and forth. He picks up the microphone again, "Mark my words! I will make you pay! God, you've caused a lot of misery. You might think it's funny, but I don't. God, come down here so I can give you a taste of what it feels like. I'm going to pound you like those other men pounded my cheating open 24 hours come and get it whore of a wife."

"Is he calling out God?" Fatality says.

"I think so," Dore says.

"Does he actually expect God to come down to the ring?"

"I just hope I don't get fried when the blue bolts come down."

Gospel music starts playing over the arena speakers and a black man with long white hair and dressed in a sackcloth robe comes onto the entrance ramp and heads down to the ring. Jake recognizes him as The Prophet, one of the wrestlers from the Christian wrestling league he sometimes watches. Cain and the rest of the arena watch him walk down and enter the ring. "You're God?" Cain says.

The other man takes the mike from Cain, "No, but I am The Prophet. I have a message to you from God."

Cain shrugs, "What is it?" he mouths.

"Stop whining!" The Prophet says and kicks Cain in the gut.

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.