Shut up, yes I did. This is not a joke. Well, it is a joke… but it’s a two hundred page joke that takes itself very seriously. It’s called Captain Rob Fights. One day I had a thought: What if I set a high fantasy in the lowest of places? It was originally going to be a short story, but then I had another thought: What if I stretched this one ply concept beyond all reason? Yeah, I’ll do that. So I did.
If you don’t believe I have that kind of free time, I’ll be posting the first part tomorrow and then adding one a day until the whole thing is up. You’ll see my excessive and strange version of toilet humor.
It has all the fixtures you’d expect of the genre from strange creatures and ancient magic to powerful relics and jaw-dropping battles. It also has all the fixtures of a bathroom… from sinks to hand dryers.
It tells the tale of an adventurous and occasionally cruel sink pirate and his crew as they struggle to mop up somebody else’s mess. He has to use every tool at his disposal, like knowledge of the strange language Pawtymouth, if he is to stop religious zealots from ending the world at their most sacred location: the glory hole.
I encourage you to stop by and check it out. I really did it, I swear. I really spent that long in the bathroom making crappy jokes.
For the longest leg of their return journey Wallace was stuck in bed below decks, recovering from his injured shoulder. His inability to sit still had forced the nurse onboard to re-stitch the wound three separate times. She swore it was like he was trying to leave a trail of blood from Europe to America and that Tycho, whose arm was in a splint while the fractures healed, was a much better patient. Whenever she worked Wallace simply grunted along with whatever she said. His mind was on other things, like the surprising bedside attendance of Rosamin and the others. They were there like cousins whenever he was awake, ready to talk about whatever was happening on the boat. He wondered if they were simply in his life now, like hairs on a mole. If they tagged along wherever he went he would have to explain to his family why all these pale people kept following him around. Continue reading →
There were stumps and logs all across the clearing, the latter of which were quickly being separated and made into firewood for the campsite. A large bundle of wires drooped across the middle of the clearing, its main support tree having been toppled. How badly everyone in camp wanted to cut those wires, to shred them, to chop them with butcher knives like rat tails. The wires buzzed constantly, like bees that never tired. They had to show discipline. If the wires were cut too early the academy of science would lose part of its power and they would lose the element of surprise. Continue reading →
Four days had passed since their escape from Potter’s Plot. Proserpine Hollow was now behind them and fresh open air filled their lungs like soda bubbles. They didn’t realize how much the green light of Proserpine had drained them until they squinted in true sunlight. With nowhere to go in particular, Goadphil, Mardin, and Valencia were still traveling with the scientists. Goady and Mardin both had taken trips outside the hollow, but Valencia had spent every second of her life within that cavern. Her first rays of true sun painted a look of divine revelation over every inch of her. Bill took it upon himself to explain to her all the glory of an atmosphere so vast you couldn’t see its sides. Continue reading →
Erin stared at the World’s Fair Hotel. It used to be called that anyway; the sign was taken down a few days ago. A construction crew was busy tearing apart the ground floor, coming and going out of the door like ants, carrying boards of pale new wood that she could smell from across the street.
What will they call it I wonder, she thought. Baked Babes? Ireland on the Grill? Roasted Rabble? Perhaps they think alliteration is below them. They’ll pick a French name to try and hide it. What’s the French word? Enfants? We’ll all know anyway. Everybody already knows you bastards. Just like everyone will know if I…Continue reading →
The Ecto Express pulled into a tiny train station with only two sets of tracks, one coming and one going. When the four scientists and the sasquatch disembarked they were able to see it in its full glory. Huge trees threatened to crowd the tracks out of existence; there was evidence of hastily chopped stumps under the slats of each set of tracks. Branches crawled over the roof of the station. Drooping, lumpy, gray willows lined the sides, shouldering each other so closely that they resembled moist cavern walls. Continue reading →
The discussions in Lucille’s office weren’t as private as they had believed. A man, perched outside, beneath the windowsill, listened in. He had a metal funnel pressed up against the wall to amplify their words. If he’d been the one to chase down Rosamin instead of the two inept belt buckles Dilcourt had sent, things never would’ve gotten this far. The future ambassador to Transylvania would be dead and her research would have mysteriously vanished. Instead Dilcourt had decided his most talented agent should gather information and report back to him. Continue reading →