This is a Story… Uh, with Pirates

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Talk Like a Pirate Day was a few days ago, so naturally, I’m celebrating it today. Here’s a strange, metafictional farce I rescued from a floppy disk. I wrote this back in 2000, when I was a teenager. It’s one of the first humorous stories I ever wrote. I think I wrote it during lunch my senior year. It’s kind of like “Pirates of the Caribbean,” but those movies hadn’t come out yet. I have no idea which “Writing Checklist” I was referring to, but it was probably something we had to read in a Creative Writing class. There’s also a very outdated reference to an old TV show called “Change of Heart.”

Warning: this story is complete nonsense. (It’s also full of parentheses and exclamation points!!)!

THIS IS A STORY… UH, WITH PIRATES

Read the Story

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The Free Kindle Ebook Promotion is Almost Over

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RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! by MK Winterath is still free in the Kindle store — but not for long. The promotion ends at the end of the day (I think it ends at midnight Pacific Standard Time).

Run for Your Life! ebook by MK Winterath

RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! YA humor-horror ebook

I’m happy to say that RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! has reached #34 on the bestselling list for the “Humor” category today. So, if you like vampires, werewolves, zombies and lots of running, coupled with confused and dweeby teenagers, take a look!

-harymess

Run for Your Life! (YA horror-humor) is Free Today Only

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RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! by MK Winterath, a horror-humor ebook for teens and older, is free today only in the Kindle store:

YA horror-humor with vampires, werewolves and zombies

RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! by MK Winterath

Run for Your Life!

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If you’re looking for some tongue-in-cheek horror to read on your Kindle or other device:

funny vampires werewolves zombies fiction

Run for Your Life! Kindle e-book by MK Winterath

Here’s the summary:

Vampires want her blood. Werewolves want her flesh. Zombies want her brains. Nobody else wants Dinah.

An apathetic misfit who lives in a junky trailer on the edge of Doolittle, Indiana, sixteen-year-old Dinah is pale, passive and puny. So when a horde of vampires invades, she waits for everyone else to solve the problem. Soon, though, all the tough guys are dead and it looks like she’ll have to make a decision: fight back or run for her life. As she flees in the middle of the night, two friends join her: Mort, a dorky intellectual, and Leticia, a loud-mouthed kleptomaniac.

But running only leads to more monsters, all of whom see her as a tasty snack. And there’s a mysterious voice whispering in her head, luring her in. To keep from getting her blood drained, her flesh devoured and her brain digested, Dinah realizes that she might have to fight back after all.

“Run for Your Life!” is a funny young-adult horror / fantasy novel. It has some blood and guts. It also has slight romance (nothing graphic) and mild profanity (no “f” word). It’s written for teens and up.

Run for Your Life! in the Kindle Store

-harymess

Bombshell in a Bomb Shelter: The Post-Apocalyptic Memoir of a Trophy Wife

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Here it is, as promised: the post-apocalyptic story I wrote last year and then lost somewhere on my computer and then remembered and found and am now posting here for the enjoyment of all humanity… before time runs out!

BOMBSHELL IN A BOMB SHELTER: THE POST-APOCALYPTIC MEMOIR OF A TROPHY WIFE

December 21st, 2012

OMG, it happened. That calendar from those creepy dead people came true. Thank God Chadwick had this shelter built under the gazebo. At first I was like, “Don’t dig a big hole. You’ll ruin the lawn.” And Chadwick was like, “Shut up and go put on a bikini or something.” And I was like, “OK.” I look amazing in a bikini. Pink is my fave. Even Mr. Ruffles – that’s my Chihuahua – has a salmon-pink diamond-studded collar. We’re so cute and sparkly together!

So, anyway. The world ended. Chadwick wouldn’t let me take both the cook and the housekeeper down into the shelter. He’s like, “Pick one. We can’t afford to save both.” Talk about decisions. I mean, Maria does everything for me. On the other hand, Beresford makes a mean margarita. Ultimately, I chose Beresford because I’m having sex with him.

I totally miss Maria. Chadwick has these camouflaged cameras planted around the blast door. When the fog of nuclear gas swept over our Beverly Hills mega-mansion, there stood Maria, trying to pry open the door. “Stephanie! Let me in!” she screamed. (That’s me – Stephanie). She kept doing that, like, right up until her flesh melted off. I’ll completely miss her back rubs. They rocked!

Still, I get that not everyone can fit in here. I’m going to stop writing now so Mr. Ruffles and I can see what Chadwick is doing. He had a basketball court installed, so he’s probably fiddling with that.

December 22nd, 2012

OK, who knew how boring the end of the world would be? It’s been 24 hours since the gas fog invaded SoCal, instantly killing millions of servants, and all I’ve been doing is lounging by the exercise pool, seeing how many doggie treats Mr. Ruffles can catch. I’m bummed because I left my avocado mask behind. Earlier, while sitting in the theater, I just started bawling. Finally, Chadwick stopped tinkering with his putting green long enough to notice.

“What is it, pun’kin?” he asked. “Does my little bunny-wunny not have everything her heart desires?”

Well, yes. I have Beresford. It’s just: something is missing. Something even greater than face cream. “Nelly didn’t make it!” I wailed.

Chadwick smiled. “Yes she did. I had a shelter made for her, on the ranch.”

What. A. Relief. My beloved pony, Nelly, survives. Chadwick managed to save his favorite Mercedes and one of the Ferraris, too. They’re parked in the entry tunnel. So: all is not lost. No word on the yacht and the jet. Chadwick is worried.

December 25th, 2012

Christmas in a bomb shelter. Last year, Chadwick surprised me by sending me to Paris. (Best. Vacay. Ever). According to the emergency radio thingy, Paris no longer exists. Boo-hoo. The shopping there was to-die-for. Chadwick owned a penthouse there, too, so he’s mourning that. OMG, and the food! It sucks here. For dinner last night, Beresford barely managed to scrape together a rigatoni-ricotta amuse-bouche, followed by a beef teriyaki entrée with a side of honey-glazed sweet potatoes. Dessert was nothing more than chocolate pudding and bananas in raspberry sauce (barf). And the salad was missing completely! He tried to compensate by serving one of the Pinot Noir’s, but I could tell Chadwick was as dissatisfied as I was. And I’m rarely dissatisfied with Beresford.

Chadwick gave me diamond earrings for Christmas. When I tried them on, my face looked so pale. Will I ever tan again? Bleach my hair? Get manicured? I don’t think I want to live in a world without salons.

The other night, while doing it in the master bedroom, Beresford told me, “Oh, yes! We must repopulate the Earth!”

He totally makes me feel naughty, he’s so decent and hopeful. I mean, sometimes I think we should all just die. After all, New Year’s is coming, and we don’t even have champagne.

January 1st, 2013

Another year, another day in the Shelter of Gloomy-Gloom. I feel like I’ve been wearing the same outfit forever. Chadwick suggested I try using the laundry appliances, but that just reminds me of Maria. Besides, there’s no dry cleaner. (My Louis Vuitton would quickly turn into Louis Vuigone). Anyway, I can’t tell you how much I crave something new. Am I going to be destined to wear the same forty-two outfits the rest of my life? I’ll have to repeat myself, like, every month or whatever. And to think: I had planned a Saks spree the afternoon the world ended. OMG, all those poor clothes – and shoes! – covered in toxic gas. What kind of world are we living in?

I can’t think anymore. I’m going to go lie in the virtual sunshine. Even Mr. Ruffles is bummed. He misses his little furry friends at the doggie hotel.

January 20th, 2013

Apparently you can’t keep secrets in a bomb shelter. Chadwick caught Beresford and I making love on the billiard table. “How dare you!” he yelled, removing his Armani suit coat and rolling up his sleeves. “I didn’t spend all that money to secure Stephanie as mine, just so some mere servant could take her.”

Beresford was like, “That’s funny, because I take her all the time.” He straightened his bowtie – the only thing I hadn’t stripped off his hot bod.

Chadwick swung at his precious face, but Beresford ducked and grabbed a pool cue. I started weeping, but Chadwick ignored me. They fought straight into the generator room, where Beresford cracked Chadwick’s head against the air filter thing.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stepping toward me. “It had to be done.”

Suddenly, a spark jumped off the fuel line. Beresford was like, “Oh, crap!” Then he blew up.

I grabbed Mr. Ruffles and ran. I only had time to save five outfits and a choice selection of diamonds before the whole shelter went up. Luckily, even though one of my heels broke, I made it up the spiral stairs and out onto the lawn. A man in a mask took me to a decontamination tent. Right now Mr. Ruffles and I are being flown to New York. It’s still there! First thing, I’m going to the salon, followed by Saks. You’re awesome, world!

THE END.

-harymess

Oh yeah, I have a humor blog

I always forget I have this blog. And I even have a new comedy to post on it — once I remember where I put it. It involves bomb shelters and the apocalypse, so I’d better find it and post it soon, before it’s too late. I promise to do that soon.

-harymess
who has been neglecting this blog because she’s been goofing off, drawing stuff: HaHaHolidays

A Very Funny Yahoo Article: Scott’s Expedition Shocked by Penguins

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I think this is the funniest Yahoo article I’ve read so far. Some of the comments below it are great, too. So, if you need a laugh, here you go:

http://news.yahoo.com/penguins-explicit-sex-acts-shocked-polar-explorer-125137476.html

I can only imagine the shocked looks on the faces of the British men in Scott’s party. Of course, Scott and some of the others would soon die on their quest for the South Pole. Antarctica must have seemed like a scary alien planet to them (a planet where, they would soon realize, ponies don’t survive very well).

-harymess

Blog Spam: Psychologically Traumatizing, Yet Oddly Fun to Read

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Sometimes I like to look at the spam WordPress is filtering out of my blog and read it because it’s funny. Nearly every one starts out by saying something vaguely positive and then turning into an abrupt advertisement. It sort of reminds me of Truman’s wife in “The Truman Show.” One minute she’s all falsely sweet and the next she’s holding up a product so the camera can zoom in.

from GoneMovie.com

I guess I’ve been paying more attention to ads lately because I’ve been trying to post about my T-Shirt designs on another blog – and I feel really odd doing it (like an infomercial person: Available now at low, low prices! But that’s not all, we’ll throw in a second one for free!). I’ve always been terrible at advertising. I used to set up the ads at a retail store years ago, and before that I was the world’s worst cashier. One of the managers would come by sometimes, and I’d pretend that I was asking every customer if they’d like to open a charge card account. After the manager left, I’d quit asking. I figured most of the women who came through the line didn’t need yet another credit card. I don’t know how many ugly tin snowmen figurines and stacks of hideous infant Onesies (for a baby who will outgrow them before checkout is over) you can buy before you realize your life is empty, but those women were trying to solve the mystery.

booboodesigns.co.uk

Anyway, even though the spam on here sounds all positive at first, it also tells you how terrible you are: you’re not getting any traffic, you’re ranking very low, if you were serious about this (no, I’m funny about it, okay?) you would click on this link and read this. If you read enough spam, it starts to sound like an abusive, manipulative person with bipolar:

I found this article/story to be very enlightening and entertaining! You provided me with valuable insight into this situation/service/personal experience! Sadly enough, judging by your Google Page Rank, I can see that no one else agrees. In fact, one might say that – at this given moment in history – you are the single most unpopular person on the internet. If I’m reading it right, not even your mother visited this page. You’re a lonely, bitter excuse for a human being, [insert your name]. And if you don’t click here and watch this short, informative video, I will come and find you and happily rid the world of your friendless little existence. I think you’ll find the video very instructive. Keep up the quality posts!  

I think I’ll take that route with my T-Shirt blog. How about this?

Welcome to my T-Shirt blog! Here you will find many lovely cartoon shirts for every occasion! And if you don’t buy one, I’ll know about it. Don’t ask me how, but I happen to be friends with some Very Important People who are all internet-savvy and stuff, and they’ll help me come find you! I also know psychics! How dare you click and browse and not buy! If you don’t wear these shirts you’ll be so hopelessly uncool, even dweebs will beat you up. Do you want that, huh? Do you want a chess player with taped-up glasses to kick your ass? Because that’s what will happen if you don’t buy one of my super terrific T-Shirts. Please enjoy! I value your purchase, you little weasel! 

Yes, that will work.

-harymess