[shortie] Walking the dead

“Ralph dear, Rusty is scratching at the door again.”

Shit.

[micro-tale] kubricks

Stepping beyond the singularity, the astronaut found himself on a long, white corridor, stretching back and forward, functional, all soft, buzzing light and wood paneled doors.
How odd. Nobody at the Spartacus mission commanding center was entirely sure what the transition phase of the Strangelove warp-engine woud feel like, but still...
And then there was the song. muffled, a single, untrained male voice echoing down the halls. Was it... Yes: it was Singing in the Rain.
Walking awkwardly from door to the door, listening carefully, the sound ever clear... There: it stoped, just as the astronaut reached that particular door.
Hesitant: well, perhaps it was some fellow singing in the shower, after all...
At wich moment the door opened to reveal an unshaven, wide eyed man with an axe descending right at the astronaut's face plate.
Screaming, cheaply enough--
“Heeeeere's Johnny!”

[pic/teaser] watch out

[imagens] pegue isso e mais isso

[traduzindo:]
Pegue isso...

...e isso...

... e você consegue...
... isso?

[micro-stuff] The house always wins

"Now, I have to ask you again: you do know what the odds are, right?"
"Yeah. Six to one."
"Ok,then.
"Bets are off, gentlemen, thank you very much. And now--we're ready to go?"
"Ready."
"Go."
clicBANG

Trailer: THE PROCASTINATOR

Soon.

[very-short story] the boy who cried golf

THE BOY WHO CRIED GOLF

The kid would ride the cart across the green fields, spot the holes , place the baits with the tracer capsules, the motion sensor devices and also the ...very...very...sensitive...explosive charges , and then rush back to Master to serve his tea. Too hot, boy...now you are truly useless, i'll say!

[imagem] never mind

"Steampunk"?
Bah!

[stuff] some random shit

HOW TO FIND YOUR OWN WAY AROUND SOME FOREIGN UNIVERSE
pick a word - any word, c'mon!- and choose your own godamn meaning .

[, and 10+ years old to boot, all of this; as meaningfull today as it will ever going to be.]
                                                    /less

[short story] f.e.d.

F.E.D.

YOUR MOM NEVER WANTED YOU IN THE FIRST PLACE.

He used to write what he used to call "Post-it Fiction",and nobody else did, because no one cared about his work. It was the onset of 4D TV, just about then,when the world became the screen : no place for theatrical analogies anymore, the world was no stage - perhaps, some cramped sound stage where you'd shoot your stupid soap opera of a life, one damn episode a day, every single day. No lunch breakes, just commercial breakes.

[parody] left for good

LEFT FOR GOOD

(AFTER ONE LAST CHEAP SHOT,OR TWO)


the four of them were holed up on the old railway station, licking their wounds , loading their weapons, waiting for the next wave of rabid living-dead bastards to break. They were also waiting for their ride out of town, but they were not holding their breaths. The radio was silent, and the train was late,and not just ten minutes late, either.