Bathroom Monologue: Possible Origins for Him. 15.

To listen either click the triangle on the left to begin streaming audio or click this text to download the MP3.

Riddle me this.

What caped crusader once carried a gun?

What dark knight now swears never to kill?

Who would be better at removing evidence and covering his trail than the world’s greatest detective?

Now riddle me this.

Who is as pale as a sheet?

Who does not seem to age across decades?

Whose laugh penetrates the mortal psyche?

Who vengefully torments one troubled soul?

Who is unable to be restrained in this asylum, moving from cell to cell to office to lobby to the front gate, all too often without detection or rational explanation?

Lastly, riddle me this.

Was it never to kill? Or never to kill again?

Haunting questions.

More lastly, riddle me this.

Why does Eddie talk this way?

Is it defensive?

Is it productive?

Is it annoying when I do it, too?

So many questions.

But seriously, Eddie. Shut up.

Let Another One In at Every Day Fiction

Today's story is over at Every Day Fiction. They've purchased and published "Let Another One In," a vampire comedy flash of mine about seeking a safe place to hide for the day. Bonus points to everyone who gets the title.


You can comment on the story here or at EDF. EDF also has a ratings system, and any votes would be appreciated. You can read "Let Another One In" for free by clicking this link.


Thanks to everyone for their support. Let me know what you think!

Not For a Doomsday Weapon as recorded by Max Cantor

Today I'm happy to bring you an audio recording of one of my stories by Max Cantor. This is "Not For a Doomsday Weapon, which popped up a few months ago.

To listen to Max's recording either click the triangle on the left to begin streaming audio or click this text to download the MP3.

This is all your fault.

So Nothning was running away. You know his name, right? That's the little guy whose soul you hid your doomsday weapon in, or whatever the hell is actually going on there. That's one of the two loose ends I don't understand yet. But you scared the crap out of Nothning, and he ran away, and to the best of my knowledge, you have shadowy goons chasing him.

Nothning has two very dear friends. I'm one of them, and I certainly wouldn't have the brass to talk to you if I wasn't. There's me and Furnhang. The three of us have always been very loyal, so when he ran with assassins at his back, we tailed to protect him. In that horse chase, it was Furnhang that brained your guys with a yoke. In case that story's reached here, that was him. Not me. Yes.

Your eyes tell me the stories haven't reached here. Okay. We're little people, except Furnhang. He's the big guy, flowing golden hair. Obscenely attractive. He's in one of your cells. Was captured protecting Nothning.

You don't care. Why would you? You're evil. You’re powerful. You do things.

You should care because of these two ladies. When a guy is that charismatic, love interests follow. The first was this shopkeeper girl. Don't know her name. She never talks to me. Honestly, she's kind of a bitch. She was bent on following the golden-haired guy on his big adventure, which chaffed Pandling. Commander Pandling.

See, the shopkeeping bitch is in a rivalry with Pandling over who's going to bang/marry/live-happily-ever-after with Furnhang. So when Pandling hears that shopkeeper girl is following him to certain death, she's all, "Let me die for him too, and more tragically! Then he'll love me."

A commander doesn't follow somebody into contested territories alone. She is followed by her command, in this case some five hundred highly trained foot soldiers who unquestioningly followed her highly questionable lead. They crossed over and even your army shrank back. Which we appreciated, because you totally would have had us that night if you kept going.

It was pretty startling on our side, too. So startling that Pandling's fellow commanders thought she was making a power play and moved their forces in to steal the glory. That's why you had three hulking commands bouncing into the contested territories instead of one. None of these people were coming to help Nothning. They didn't even know he existed.

Too late. They do now. I told them.

The next part is entirely your fault. I assume it's you, or some paranoid admiral. Because no sooner are Nothning and I kicking back and relaxing, no longer fearing death amongst the thousand-plus heroes around us, then your freaking Serpent Fleet comes sailing up the coast. So now three commands are looking at dozens of corsairs and cannons. Were those warning shots? Because I thought so, but the commanders did not agree. You fired in the vicinity of three overachieving commanders and immediately they called in the aquatic cavalry. That is seriously the only reason you've got an oceanic stalemate right now.

I don't know what brought on the sky-whales. Didn't think those were real until they swooped through the clouds and started eating people. From the number of ogre skeletons in their droppings, I'm presuming your side doesn't have a much better handle on them. We have no idea what they're after. Commander Pandling thinks your cannonfire woke them up. Nothning thinks they're after your weapon.

Good damned luck finding my buddy, by the way. Thanks to everyone overreacting he's got the biggest, bloodiest crowd in creation in which to hide. And if the commands retreat, he’s going with them and letting them have your stupid weapon, even though as I’ve just described, these people are nuts.

But Nothning extends you this offer: if Furnhang and I go back to him alive before sunset, we’re going underground. Permanent style. Your enemy does not get the big doomsday weapon. You don’t, they don’t, and everybody deals with the sky-whales in their own way.

Up to you how this goes. That’s only how it’s unfolded so far. How it’s actually unfolded. Maybe you can team up with the commands and we’ll all survive this mess. I doubt it - I mean, I'll survive. Providing you don't kill me, I'm digging the deepest hole possible and staying down there until the smell of whale droppings fades. I just presume you're going to charge and get everyone killed, because that's the kind of stupid drama this situation seems intent on heading toward.

Bathroom Monologue: A Familiar Trial

Case: Plaintiff claims the property, "one half of a dead baby," belongs to her, not to the Defendant. Defendant is refusing to yield property. Plaintiff refuses to explain nature of the infant bifurcation, though matter should become transparent at trial.

Witnesses for the Plaintiff: 1) The Plaintiff

Witnesses for the Defendant: 1) The Defendant, 2) King Solomon

Bathroom Monologue: Up High

“Hey, I said no more people! You saw what happened to the last guy.”

“Actually, I didn’t.”

“I’ll jump if you come any closer.”

“I’m not coming closer.”

“You can’t talk me down, man. I just need to be alone. I can’t think today.”

“I’m not here to talk you down.”

“Neither was the last guy, and he grabbed my shirt after a minute. You want to fall like him?”

“Not really. Did he die?”

“No, they’ve got a balloon tarp down there. You come closer, and I’ll make sure we miss it.”

“They’ve got a what?”

“Lame act. Back off.”

“Are you thinking of jumping?”

“I came up here to think, damn it. Let me finish a thought and I’ll tell you what it was. I’d probably have gone home by now if you idiots didn’t keep interrupting.”

“Surprising a guy like you has trouble getting people to leave him alone.”

“You suck at this.”

“I’m really not up here to help you.”

“Uh-huh. Back off.”

“If you wanted to die you could swallow a bunch of pills or blow your brains out. You think about those before you came up here?”

“I came up here to think!”

“I’d worry. If the pills just fried an unnecessary part of my brain, or the bullet paralyzed me. Off the top of a building, though? That’s as close to a sure thing as you get. Liquefy you on impact. Probably doesn’t even hurt.”

“Is this part of some method they teach you in police camp?”

“You know what’s funny?”

“What?”

“I’m really not a cop. I was thinking of jumping off here today.”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“No lie. I work in human resources on the 7th floor. Been firing people all year. Hard not to think of killing myself, hearing a hundred people hang up those phones for the last time.”

“Bullshit.”

“Want my card?”

“You come near me and I’ll jump.”

“You won’t. You know, I’m kind of mad at you.”

“What the Hell, man?”

“I punched out, said goodnight, and went to the bathroom instead of my car. Counted the tiles until the floor cleared out. Figured I’d come up here, no one would interrupt, and I’d step off into Heaven. Except when I left the bathroom there were cops everywhere. I came up to avoid them, and here you are, dragging half the city to break my fall.”

“You’re nuts.”

“I’m going to sit here. If you don’t like it, move over. We’ve got the whole roof.”

“Whatever.”

“That is weird. Looks like a parachute. They want to catch you on that?”

“Maybe. I don’t care. I’m not going to use it anyway.”

“What’s going on?”

“Sitting on a ledge, man.”

“Trouble at home? Wife cheating on you? Can’t find a wife? Blue balls?”

“It’s got nothing to do with women.”

“Fired? Can’t find a job? I can relate, after a fashion.”

“No.”

“So you were fired?”

“I’ve been unemployed since college.”

“Is that why you’re on my roof?”

“No. I told you, I can’t think.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“No, asshole. I can’t think. I can’t finish a thought in this city. I hear the clock in the hall ticking. The hands moving. The heating system groans. Somebody’s always got a TV on somewhere if you listen carefully enough, and I can’t stop listening. Cars in the road outside. Somebody’s stereo. Shrill horns. The wind and weather. Planes overhead. Sometimes rats in the crawlspace. Conversations! I hate conversations. Somebody is always talking thanks to fucking cell-phones. What’s worse than being distracted by a couple yakking outside your window? One of them giving you half the story. They pour noise on you down there.”

“That seems reasonable.”

“Please, shut up.”

“You came up here for a little quiet?”

“Not just a little. No rustling clothes. No denim scraping on the brick. No breathing. I don’t want to hear you breathe. Can you do that?”

“I’ve got an idea.”

“You’re not going to jump, are you? Because I don’t want them saying I pushed you. I’ll get enough crap for the other guy.”

“No. It’s a better idea.”

“Which is?”

“I’ll show you.”

Bathroom Monologue: Athenaists

Athena slapped the newspaper against her gilded breastplate. Her grey eyes brightened with joy.

“Did you see that headline? Fastest growing group in America.”

Aleus looked up at his mistress. “The unemployed?”

“Atheists!”

She was on the verge of dancing on the edge of Olympus. Her bare feet skittered and wove along the edges of clouds.

Aleus set the tea aside. He approached cautiously, uncertain if this was one of her jokes.

“And you’re… excited about that, Madame?”

“It’s been ages since I had so many adoring fans. Really pissed me off when the feminist movement didn’t worship me.”

“Pardon, Madame?”

“I barely got three prayers out of the whole cult.” She clutched the paper to her chest and doubled over the heavens to peer down onto the mortal coil. “You know I was at the first bra burning. Heroic endeavors and all that.”

“You think the atheists worship you?”

She straightened. Aleus thought this was when the punchline would come, but instead her face contorted with disdain. She pointed to herself. “Hello. ‘Athena?’ All those Atheists must love me. It’s the clearest endorsement since Athens.”

“Madame, I don’t think…”

“Look at all the scientists in there. I’m the goddess of wisdom. Of course they love me. I’m going down to earth immediately. What do you think? Classic robes or modern power suit? I don’t want to come off too… you know. Hillary Clinton.”

“I really think that’s just going to upset them.”

“You think it’d intimidate some to meet me in the flesh?”

“Something like that, Madame.”

She resumed her perch over the mortal coil, grey eyes singling out her special little folk. “Maybe I’ll go as a talking owl. Ease them into the grace of their mistress.”

“Perhaps that’s for the best, Madame.”

Bathroom Monologue: Conscience Transplant

"Neuroscientists have tried many ways to alter human behavior. They've strapped hoodlums into chairs with classical music and horror videos playing. They've wired men's nerves into living terminals. But we believe the human being is a human body. If you want saliva, you need a tongue. If you want pancreatic juice, you need a pancreas. A good person requires some good organs.

"Submitted for your approval, an organ extracted from electric eels. Sewn amongst the appropriate part of the human being, it will shock the patient upon inappropriate behavior. The shock is both more severe and more targeted than mere electrodes in the brain. Thirty-three percent of test subjects even reported a pleasant buzz upon appropriate behavior. Electro-shock therapy is a sham if it doesn't come from a human being's own conscience. The brain can lack empathy and fail to trigger the appropriate response to evil. But this organ? It's the world's first ever conscience transplant.

"The first three subjects were investment bankers and loan officers. Before you get ideas of vengeance for recent depressions, know these were the panel of experts that denied our lead engineer funding for his aquarium. It was going to be beautiful. It still will be, once the conscience transplant takes off.

"We just need a little starter cash."