Wednesday, May 31, 2017

PDF Midnight Interruption

Short excerpt from 'Sanity's Edge', a novel in progress









     I slipped off the ship after dark, once I could sense that everyone in the village was asleep. The forest was new but Mama had found me a new friend. We stared at each other under the shade of a mango tree as the Moon climbed into the sky. Its tongue flicked the air in the three-meter space that divided us. 
     This wasn’t one of the gen-altered snakes I was accustomed to from my home. This bugger was all wild, possibly the first of its kind that I’d seen since childhood, possibly the first I’d ever seen in my life. Sweet Ngai, was she massive! Her trunk was thicker around than my thighs.
I sensed her full belly, so I had no worries on that score. Her scales had a fresh gloss, as though she had just completed shedding not too long ago. I suppose she wouldn’t object to a warm body to enfold. I closed the distance between us and stepped into her embrace.
     I knew this would be a problem as soon as a hundred kilos seemed on my hips, pressing me down. My knees buckled at first, but I kept to my feet as a second curl of muscle wound behind my legs, brushing the skin of my thighs before plopping atop the first coil, in the process pushing up my breasts.
     Both were solid rippling muscle. A thrill shuddered through my chest, and perhaps a little excitement. I’d never given myself to such a beast before. A third coil slipped past my shoulders, pressing my breasts into flattened ovals between them. Sweat trickled over them and down the middle of my back; but that was probably just the heat of this place. For now, I was content. As I held out my hand, the last meter of its tail settled in my palm, circling twice before cinching tight. With my eyes shut, we dropped as one bundled mass into the soft grass.
     Of course that wasn’t the end of it. When was it ever so? The sun had barely emerged as a pink fingernail on the horizon when my hand comm chirruped in my waist pouch. This was ten meters away, along with the rest of my clothes.
     Brutus, for so I named her, showed no inclination to release such a rich source of warmth, and gods, I didn’t want to leave this body hug just yet, either. Oh well. I stretched forth my free hand, the new new left one.
     The hand comm made an oddly hard thump as it whipped through the grass into the false meat of my false hand. I settled back in Brutus’s coils, pillowing my neck on hers as I put the comm to my ear. “Jambo?”
     “The correct greeting would be I ni sogoma, young miss, but we will let it pass this time,” a firm male voice replied. “Am I speaking to Miss Jamai Dlamini?”
     “Yes,” I said, suddenly a little nervous.
“My name is Oumar Hadad, the local prefect for this hamlet. Would it be possible for you to spare me a few minutes?”
     “H-have I done something wrong?”
     “Not at all. Your Captain Ismalla discovered you missing this morning and got it into his head that you would be in the fields, with a snake. And so you are.”
     My body seemed to have frozen, even snug in Brutus’ coils, though my stare darted left and right. “Don’t be alarmed. The local children spotted you sleeping from some trees they were climbing. They almost took you for dead, but for the fact that you were snoring.”
     “I snore…?”
     “My deputy has been watching you via long-range glasses, to see to your safety. He will escort you to my office, in your own time.”
     My own time…I could make them wait another hour… 
     No, best to be done with it. “Whenever he’s done masturbating, I’d like to dress in peace.”
     A deliberate pause followed. “Let me speak with him. You can pull yourself together while I’m berating him.” And the comm chirrped off.



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Deviantart link 

Sunday, April 9, 2017

Red River Range (1938) feat. John Wayne as Stoney Brooke



Another George Sherman time-spender, this Western is a curious mix of old & new throwing in cowboys, automobiles and trucks loaded with rustled cattle. Early on is a funny scene where the cattleman’s association can’t figure where all their cows are going, and al their 10-gallon hats are piled on the table in front of them. Naturally the Three Mesquiteers are the first people the governor sends for to help.  

Which is not to say they’re the first to the scene. Stony switches places with an old friend, Tex (natch) to infiltrate the rustling gang. Tex has been sent by the Meat Packers association to investigate, and he’s quite a singer as well. It’s actually a clever scheme where they slaughter the cattle on the spot and then bury the hides. It’s a bit of a dark subject, which would probably receive a gorier interpretation if it were made nowadays.

This is my fourth Mesquiteers oater, and the Duke’s last string of B-movies before his fortunes changed forever with Stagecoach. I hadn’t noticed before that the surnames of two Mesquiteers are Smith & Johnson. That subject came up while all three heroes show up for dinner at the same time so they can all hit on the same girl, Jane Mason; she is played by Republic serial star Lorna Gray. 

Stony (ie Duke) for his part is hit on by Mrs. Maxwell, a fat lady rustler played by vaudeville star Polly Moran. All hi efforts to evade her are for naught. Duke proves to be very talented at pretending he can’t ride a horse. 

“Think them trucks are involved in the rustling?”  
“Nahh, (they’d) never get enough of them in there.”  
“Well, what do you think (they’ve) been doin’?”    
     -actual movie dialogue

An agreeable time-spender, this nonetheless has its clichés, which is what you can expect from a 1930’s flick. Of course there is the stereotypical subservient black servant, and of course the man in charge of the cattle rustlers is the town’s leading citizen. One of the Duke’s last flings before he walks into legend. 

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Sanity's Edge--themes


    


     Every novel has a point, a unifying theme that knits all the threads together. There may be more than one, just as there are more than one character driving the narrative. Here’s the most important one.   
     Essentially I think this story is about isolation, the isolation others impose on us and that we impose on ourselves. When we don’t feel worthy, feel worthless, often wrongly, sometimes we have an overwhelming feeling that we’re alone.   We’ve always been alone and maybe it’s something we deserve.  
     But that’s not really true. We’re not alone; we don’t have to be alone.

Monday, February 13, 2017

Buterfly and Serpent Space excerpt


The following is a short scene from "Kalila Maji", part two in my book Butterfly & Serpent, published by Createspace
Jamai has been captured by an interdimensional spectre named Sydelle, and is about to see a stunning vista.


She answered with a smile reflected in hungry eyes. “You came to learn of me? Come, see.”

She inclined her head, and I followed the direction of her gaze. We were still in Mokoyo Springs. But the Moon was gone. A massive orb filled its space, filled nearly the entire sky, but for one narrow sliver near its upper hemisphere. Clouds of the purest blue blanketed its surface, if it had any, clouds layered with chalk-white jet streams. Occasionally its troposphere was punctuated with crackles of lightning, traversing an entire hemisphere. “Is that…?”
“No,” Sydelle replied with an eye as full of wonder as mine. “Our home was in orbit around what you see, our Parent Body. The core of our home was a powerful magnetic orb with predictable magnetic reversals, which acted in conjunction with those of our Parent Body’s poles. On those dates, we could see into other realms as the barriers separating each sphere thinned, due to the two bodies’ electromagnetic reverses.

The above is actually a NASA image of the planet Neptune.

Available still as a print or Kindle Editon at amazon.com

https://www.amazon.com/Butterfly-Serpent-Michael-Robbins-ebook/dp/B0088K8DIU/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1487044940&sr=8-1&keywords=Butterfly+and+Serpent+Michael+Robbins

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

Sanity's Edge-draft preview

Just composed this the other night:

"I'll give you one chance. Walk away. I have nothing to live for and everything to protect. This child is going back to her village. If you try to stop me, if any of your goons come between us and her tree house, i will end you."

This comes towards the end of the novel. Main protagonist Jamai has lost a child thanks to her prime antagonist Goukoni. He's made the mistake of threatening the 600-year-old child who saved her.

More to come. Enjoy.

Saturday, November 12, 2016

Trump's Cabinet Posts-First Drafts



Well, the election's over, and we're screwed. That's what we all thought at first, didn't we? But to be fair, Donald Trump hasn't taken office yet, and he might surprise us with some wise discourse and prudent actions. 
Still, no man can carry the burden of President alone. He needs persons of unparalleled quality to bring this country onto the right path and render unselfish servitude service. With that in mind I propose the following individuals to fill his cabinet posts.

Ambassador to Iran:
Brian Blessed (in his guise as Prince Vultan from "Flash Gordon")

"HAHAHAHAHA! DIIIIIE!!!!"



Secretary of State:
Naturally we'll want a man who will best represent American interests while soothing our allies' jitters about the policies we must pursue. And who better represents all that America stands for than...
Harvey 'Two-Face' Dent!


Secretary of Education:
This calls for a person of extraordinary intelligence with an uncanny knack for geography. So why not, Sarah fuckin' Palin!



Attorney General:
Let's nominate Dr. Victor von Frankenstein!




Secretary of Defense:
Frank Castle, 'The Punisher'!



Supreme Court nominee: 
There will no doubt be a few vacancies opening up in coming years. As the nominee will serve for decades, this must be a man of judicious perception and a steady mind. I offer
The Green Gob--I mean, Norman Osborn!



Of course there are other posts to be filled, and perhaps we'll suggest other names in the coming apocalypse days, but we can always come back to that. Cheers for now. And God help us.

Friday, October 28, 2016

This is Halloween

Some of the horrors I've unleashed on my Deviantart page over the years. Pleasant dreams.


To my family, I can only say, yep, he's as disturbed as he seems...