Teaser Tuesday: The Carrot In You

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The bus doors slammed shut behind them and the bus screeched off raising a hefty dust cloud.

Welcome!” The man greeted them. “I’m here to check all of you are accounted for and to escort you to our most holy retreat of… holy good times.” He had a thick mustache that was almost the same exact brown as his skin, and a flat comb-over. “My name is Hardeep Chander, but you can just call me Hardeep,” he smiled. Dan was lost in his huge brown eyes and the thick lashes shadowing them.

Har-… hardy?” Dan tried. He looked at Skye.

Skye glanced back and shrugged. “Hawrdey?”

“… Or Andy,” Hardeep smiled. His eyes looked resigned.

The Carrot In You coming out this week! Finally! And I got something short and terrible as a freebie this week too! Stay tuned!

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Teaser Tuesday: cover reveal

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This week’s Teaser Tuesday is, finally, on a bonafide Tuesday! Isn’t it? I mean…. today is Tuesday, right?
<checks watch>
<googles weekdays>
Yeah, seems we’re good!
As I was saying: it’s a cover reveal! A follow-up of more ridiculousness from Drake the hapless vampire with erectile dysfunctions AND… an incredibly loose adaption of Island Of Dr. Moreau. In fact, it’s so loose, it has nothing to do with the book. Well, very nearly has nothing to do with it. It does kinda sound the same. And there is a doctor and there are experiments. And a pet chicken that was there before I ever saw Moana. I mean, come on. I might write disturbing things, but I wouldn’t mix Pixar movies in there like that. That just ain’t right.

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Teaser Tuesday: Ravaged By A Rigid T-Rex

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“That grass is dead, man.” Jimmy continued.

“No, it’s not,” I lied to myself.

“Sure! Whatever you say, neighbor. It just looks mighty dead from where I’m standing,” Jimmy smirked. His smile looked like someone had painted teeth on a tomato.

“It’s not dead. It’s resting,” I insisted, rubbing my neck.

Jimmy leaned against the fence. The fence creaked in desperation.

“Well, as soon as your grass is done resting, come to me and I’ll give you the name of a guy. My grass guy can do stuff at a good price. No one will ever know,” Jimmy winked.

His “grass guy” sold plastic turf. I shuddered, imagining my proud rose bush and the dahlias surrounded by plastic fakery. I didn’t even buy plastic lawn chairs. There was a reason. A good reason. My mother had died in a tragic and completely unpredictable plastic explosion. Her body had been riddled with strips of cellophane and the cheap polyester scarf around her neck had shrunk in the heat suffocating her. No plastic. You couldn’t trust plastic.

I gave Jimmy a dirty look under my brow. “No plastic.”

“Fine!” he said, throwing his hands up. “So when are we gonna have another BBQ on your fresh lawn?” he continued. Some people were just born to be assholes even when they were friendly.

Teaser Tuesday: M4M4BEAR

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“Nude cyclist!” Tiff beamed, her tiny nose and freckles practically glowing with glee.

“Are there pictures?” I leaned over her shoulder.

“What, does it sound like someone you might know?” She grinned from ear to eat, then folded the paper and handed it to me. “Nah, no pictures. Too many conservatives funding this mag. It might catch fire if they printed something else besides female tits.” She looked genuinely disappointed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring you newspapers with all the wild penises your little, freckled heart desires when we visit Europe,” I nudged her on the arm. “The hot cross bun dough is proofing, they’ll be ready to put in in about an hour. I set the timer, so you’ll know. Last ones for today.”

“Oh? You’re headed out already?”

“Yeah, come ‘ere,” I leaned to her ear, “it’s our anniversary today. Tim and I have special plans…” I whispered.

“Oh jeesh! Why didn’t you say so earlier?! I could’ve made a card or something…,” she pouted.

“With penises?”

“Hell yeah! At least a dozen. A whole basket of dicks! A disket!”

“Aw, I appreciate that, hun,” I grabbed Tiff in a tight bear hug. “We’re okay, though. We have dicks at home. And I made a cake earlier. I just want a little extra time with Tim today. I think the Shoppe’s been taking a lot of my attention in the past few weeks…,” I muttered, letting my mind drift in the date nights missed because of the hairy balls and angry old ladies and an endless sea of dick-shaped cakes for bachelorette parties and people who clearly didn’t want to party with anyone but wanted a dick cake all to themselves for the night… it had been busy. I hadn’t anticipated how much time running a bakery would really take with just the two of us there on most days.

“Well duh,” Tiffany muttered somewhere from my below my chest. “I keep telling you to get an extra baker here full time.”

“You were right. I’m gonna look into it next week.” I squeezed her cheek. “But tonight is for me and Tim.”

“Here,” she stuck the newspaper under my arm, “I read it already and did the crosswords. And might have doodled on it.”

“Er… this is a very last minute anniversary gift?”

“No, I just can’t be bothered to take the trash out…. as somebody just put me in charge of the till as well as the baking because they’re playing hooky with their boyfriend.” She fluttered her eyes with her mouth pressed into a tight, straight line trying to not burst out laughing.

I let out a deep sigh and turned over the newspaper. The cyclist had been drunk and “naked” (in quotation marks), plowing through the holiday displays in the center, then raiding a chestnut stand and stuffing himself before passing out in a manger. He was wearing a mustard tie.

Teaser Tuesday: The Carrot In You

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Dan picked up the carrot and rubbed his beard. These things were all over the place. Couldn’t go 5 steps without a carrot in front of you. Or 8 paces. All paths led to carrots.

He turned it over. It looked vaguely familiar. Maybe this was the same carrot he just picked up from the common area floor? Had the same two dots on it. “This fasting is messing with my brain”, he though. It’s a carrot. They pretty much all look the same. And that wasn’t a veganist thing to think. They’re carrots. They don’t care. Vegphobic? Didn’t quite roll off the tongue. Vega was a moon or something, wasn’t it? Couldn’t really say you were a ”vegaphobic” then, unless you wanted to hate on a piece of rock floating in space for no reason.

He turned to go back to the cooking hut and felt a little dizzy from the movement.

Yup, definitely just brain going screwy from the fasting. ”Boy, I underestimated how much detoxing I had to do”, he thought. All those years working with computers at the office, sitting in chairs and all that capitalistic corporate bullshit. ”No wonder my body’s a hot pocket of toxic pustules filled with Western impurities. I could’ve died”, he nodded grimly.

Teaser Tuesday + update!

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Teaser Tuesday is again on Wednesday and another cover reveal. Two covers for some dirty, naughty, not entirely serious, ok not-at-all serious dinosaur erotica coming next week. And under the covers, you’ll find the extra update. So it’s almost like Christmas. If instead of presents, Santa let you look at some pictures on his phone and then just patted you on the head.

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People who have been reading my little stories – whom I love dearly and cannot even begin to tell you how much it wets my cold, dead heart that there are people investing their time into my writing – have probably noticed that there hasn’t been much activity or new material coming out. And also that the update schedule is in serious disarray. The private life over here has been such that I’ve been hustling to make basic income and that’s left writing, of any kind, in the ditch. Also have been told by reputable professionals to lay off the legal substances. But that’s another story. Am I too old to say YOLO to that?
Is anyone using YOLO anymore?
Anyhow, the basic income situation seems to be evening out so the schedule and writing will be picking up by the end of the week. Though I’m giving a fair warning that any new shorts might be pushed to next week. BUT, after that, Teaser Tuesdays will be on actual Tuesdays (unless there’s rain) and the publishing schedule will be updated.
God, if it wasn’t the year of the cock, I’d make a joke about how this year has been kind of a dick so far. But I’m not gonna. I’m just saying things are starting to look up. And I got 11 covers done and stacked and 7 more on the table waiting to be finished, so I got material in store for you little monkey nuts. Material up the wazoo!

Teaser Tuesday: Feral Caress

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So I sat myself at the bar, got a shot of Jameson and settled down listening in on the conversations and looking for new people. Random banter; town hall was getting a new roof, comparing trucks, loads of dead chicken in the area the last few days. An older gentleman sitting next to me, with the most awesome curled mustache I’d ever seen, lamented how the damn foxes or wolves or weasels or whatever pesky creatures they were that kept eating his chicken, were getting into locked hen houses.

“Once they get a taste for it, they’ll figure out a way!” he exclaimed, then sunk in his seat defeated. A good man, he obviously loved his chicken. Though to be fair, chicken IS delicious to most creatures on this Earth. I patted him on the back sympathetically.

“Can you get meaner chicken? Something with bigger teeth that’ll fight back? Like, maybe swans?” I offered. Bucktooth swans.

He grinned mischievously.

“Aye, that is not a bad idea at all, young man!” He clinked my shot glass with his and took a sip. We continued with working out our plan for mean, self-defending chicken. The music streamed in the background an endless flow of Iron And Wine and as I relaxed in the hypnotic hum of the bar I stopped missing Charlie’s company and didn’t even notice he seemed to have completely disappeared until a good hour in. I scanned the crowd for traces of him. No luck. More people. No Charlie. My eyes brushed over something huge and white on the other side of the bar, then back to look at just what the hell I just saw.

Big guy. Not just tall, REALLY tall. I was no bread stick either at 6 feet, but this one was at least 6 foot 11 and wider than an elephant’s rear. Lean muscle all around, all covered in fine, white body-hair. Only his head hair and facial scruff had slightly more tinge, but even those were all white. The head was shaved on both sides with long, white-ish gold mane flowing from the middle. His jaw could crush walnuts just by being in the same room with them. He was downing a pint of beer in one go, the dark stout a monochrome contrasts to his pale lips, and when he struck the empty pint down on the bar and dried his lips across the back of his hand, I swear I could see sharp canine teeth.