A Small Pirate Spiel

Once upon a time there was a small pirate ship with a small crew of ten small pirates living on it. One day, one of the crewmembers by the name of Ol' Jim Crankyface found that his chest full of rusty old bent up bottle caps was missing.

"Arrrrrr!" croaked Ol' Jim, "some scallywag's pinched me favorite treasure box!" He raised the problem to the rest of the crew and demanded to know who the thief was.

"S'just bottlecaps," said One-Eyed Skip. "No great loss or nuthin'."

Ol' Jim found this quite an irksome attitude. "They's was me own treasure, so's they was! How'd ya feel if'n I stole ye torn up scraps've ol' newspapers?"

Skip laughed. "Ya think I care 'bout them scraps? They's just lining me parrot cage so's to facilitate cleanin' up the dung."

"I'll cleave ya to the brisket!" shouted Crankyface.

But Captain Arrrrenan put a prompt end to the bickering before any swords could be drawn with a tip of his wide-brimmed piratey captain's hat and but a few well-chosen words:

Me buckos

Treasure's treasure and dung is dung

A bottlecap pilfered's a rogue's heart stung

Now hear me well and do mind yer true duty

Ye'll search this small ship and find the lost booty

Ne'er a rogue's things should e'er go gone and missing

So if the thief be found, Davy Jones he will be kissing​

You see, while they were truly pirates of a most reprehensible breed, the captain ran a fair ship according to rightful libertarian pirate principles. Never a pirate of his crew or a free passenger on his ship should ever have their private effects damaged or stolen or they'd be answering to the captain directly, and he wasn't a merciful man. 'Course the ship's law ended right there and so a violent hand raised against man, woman, or child outside the ship was good pirate form fair and true. But between brother rogues there was to be no violence or theft.

And so with a hearty "Yo Ho Ho" the ten small pirates searched the small pirate ship and quickly found the chest of bottlecaps hidden under the wooden steps leading down into the galley. The thief was not found. And that was that.

Until the next day when the bottlecaps went missing once more. Ol' Jim complained all the louder and Captain Arrrrenan gave the same speech as the day before and the ten small pirates resumed their Yo Ho Ho-ing and searched the small pirate ship and once more found the bottlecaps hidden under the wooden steps. And once again the thief was not found. And that was that.

Until the next day when the bottlecaps went missing yet another time. This time, however, Ol' Jim rose in the night and found them gone and ventured out onto the deck where he spied a dark and shady figure holding the chest. "Caught red-handed, ye arrrrr!" And Ol' Jim shouted, "Buckos! Me buckos! Avast! To arms, the thief!"

He couldn't tell who the thief was because he was wearing a mask. In fact, he was wearing a full body black latex costume with a black cat theme.

As the other pirates emerged from below deck they saw the villain and shouted "The thief! The thief! Who be the thief?"

"Ye'll never figure out who me is!" the roguish rogue declared! "Ye'll never see through me super-villain cat-burglar costume!"

"It's One-Eyed Skip!" said Two-Eyed Joe.

"Wuzza?" said the thief. "How'd ye see through me costume ye veritable super sleuth!?"

Captain Arrrrenan handled that one:

Me buckos

A scoundrel's a scoundrel, a thief is a thief

Mysteries and quandaries put pirates through grief

But counting is easy and we men count ten

Yet nine do I count and I'll count 'em again

There's one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine!

I know all yer names, and I surely know mine

One face is not here now, that is easy to see,

whether wearing one eye-patch or zero or three

The pirate now missing ain't Joe, Jim, or Zip

'Tis plain the masked villain is named: One-Eyed Skip!​

The thief pulled off his mask and sure enough it was a one-eyed pirate with but a single eye-patch and a face that surely belonged to the rogue named Skip. He shouted, "Curse ye and yer basic logic, ye scurvy nerds!"

The scoundrel made for the mainmast and clambered as clamberingly as he could up the ropes towards the crow's nest. But a dearth of eyes made for a dearth of depth perception and while his effort was truly impressive, his inability to find sure footing on the ropes made his climb quite the challenge. And so he slipped and found himself dangling helplessly with his foot caught in a tangle.

"Help me, me buckos!" he cried. "I'm caught!"

So they climbed up and cut him loose and brought him down and took away the chest of bottlecaps and gave it back to Ol' Jim.

"Ye stole me bottlecaps," said Ol' Jim.

"Yarrr," said One-Eyed Skip that thieving scurvy dog of a thief.

"Why fore'd ye do it, ye scallywag?"

"Yarrrrrrrr," said One-Eyed Skip, "yarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..." he said, scratching his chin, pondering his response, "yarrrr..."

And at last he answered:

A pirate has dreams

A scoundrel has wishes
Me wishes ye not makes me sleep with the fishes

For wishes be pow'rful

And dreams not relenting

Do goad, push, and prod me to deeds now repenting

Tis always me hunger

Since I's but a child

To bag a bit o' glee 'n be a wee bit o' wild

To adorn a cat costume

And burgle me best bucko

And pinch his paltry treasure and (alas) press me lucko

So be ye not vengeful

Me most fairest of friends

Tha's me dark secret, and there's me tale ends​

The other pirates blinked. And they stared. And then they stared and blinked and stared some more. They didn't know quite what to think, so they just blinked and they blinked and they stood there and stared. Well, at last they took pity on him because he seemed quite pathetic. And besides, each one of them would be lying if they'd said they hadn't thought seriously about experimenting with illicit latex-costumed cat-burglary.

And Ol' Jim Crankyface, though his crankiness was legendary, came forward and was the first to lay a hand of forgiveness and understanding on the shoulder of the villainous man who'd taken his most trifling of treasures. And with tears streaming down the deep cranky wrinkles of his cracked and knotted face, he said, "Surely ye be me best bucko still now, and forever ye'll be me friend though ye stole me best box o' nuthins."

"Yo Ho Ho!" they all cried, and again, "Yo Ho--"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

A huge blast of a cannon burst broke up the merry scene and then a cannonball tore right through the railing on one side of the ship and struck One-Legged Jonesy right in the back of his one remaining leg and he flipped over and flopped all around like a little pirate rag doll that had just been hit by a miniature cannonball.

"Avast!" cried Captain Arrrrenan. "It's that scurvy dog of a dirty rapscallion Black-Booted Bernie the 3rd. Arrrrrrrrr, me good-fer-nuthin' lost long half-brother of an arch-nemesis!"

Captain Arrrrenan was so angry that he himself readied his favorite pirate cannon for firing. First he carefully poured in the powder, and though he was super angry he was a pretty solid pirate captain so he kept his cool and was careful to load just the right amount. Then he pushed in the wad and then the biggest most deadliest cannonball he had with a red skull and crossbones painted on it even, which he'd been saving for just this very occasion. He rammed all that stuff down in there to the breech, and then he took the lit cigar out of his mouth and paused to say "Take this you dirty ol' sunnuva nasty rotten scallywag!" before he lit the fuse and turned around and put his fingers in his ears. (Safety first. Maintaining healthy ears is very important.)

BLAMMO!

The cannonball soared through the air over the water and for a few seconds there right smack dab in between the two small pirate ships the cannonball drifted in slow motion and it might have seemed to an observer who was watching a movie that there was a brief moment of calm and serenity and peace where the sweet-ass pirate theme music faded away to leave the soothing sounds of the ocean churning its pleasant little song of water lapping against the wood of two small pirate ships and maybe the call of a seagull or two, and strangely enough it was as though the red painted skull and crossbones was smiling a little piratey smile. But then the cannonball snapped out of its little slow motion calm before the storm moment and careened smoothly over and crashed right through the mast of Black-Booted Bernie's ship. First there was a little creak, and then a little crack, and then the mast started tipping over, and then it really started falling down, and though a couple badguy pirates tried to hold it up, it was just too heavy and it fell down and pinned a couple badguys under it. "Owwww!" they cried. "Arrrrrrrrr! Ow."

Well, the ships were right next to each other now, so all of Captain Arrrrenan's crew grabbed their swingin' ropes and swung right on over there to the other ship. Arrrrenan himself firmly held his rope with one beefy muscle arm while mid-swing he expertly drew his golden fightin' cutlass with the other and deftly lopped off three of Black-Booted Bernie's underlings' heads with a single swipe.

"Get over here, Bernie!" Captain Arrrrenan shouted. "You broke my ship's railing! And you're gonna pay for it to be repaired!"

"Oh yeah," shouted Bernie, "well, you broke my mainmast, so maybe you should pay for that, huh?"

"Psssh," said Captain Arrrrenan. "That was done in self-defense, that doesn't count! Now get over here and gimme your coin-purse!"

"Ha ha ha ha!" laughed Bernie. "No way! Come and get me!" And he scampered off towards the poop deck.

Captain Arrrrenan made a motion to One-Eyed Skip and Ol' Jim Crankyface to follow him and the three of them made a Triple Pirate Flying V Formation and chased after the nefarious black-booted pirate. A scurvy dog wearing a bandana and holding a knife in his teeth leapt out of a nearby barrel going "YARRRR!" and swingin' his cutlass at Ol' Jim, but luckily this guy was coming from the side of One-Eyed Skip's face that still had an eye on it, so Skip managed to turn in time and chop him hard right in the brisket, whatever that was.

"Skip," said Ol' Jim Crankyface, "ye saved me life!"

You see, thought Captain Arrrrenan about not having executed Skip for his wrongdoing. That's why forgiveness is always the best policy. Just as he finished thinking the profound thought, he hacked a couple of Bernie's pirates down and rushed towards the poop deck.

Just as he almost got there he saw a big pirate coming down the stairs.

"Aw crap," said Captain Arrrrenan to his two teammates. "This'll be Bernie's number one best UFC Fightin' Shaolin-Trained Champion First Mate Gun-Totin' Gary!"

"That's right, Captain Arrrrenan," said Gun-Totin' Gary. He pulled out his two seven-chambered silver revolvers, one with a glistening ruby handle and the other with a shimmering emerald handle, obviously taken very well care of and polished regularly even though this guy was a lazy ol' underachieving pirate first mate and not even a proper ship captain like any respectable pirate fightin' champion ought to be. He went on, "I've got fourteen bullets here with your name on them, and (Nota bene) I made absolutely sure to get fourteen shots ready for you 'cause I heard about you and how you survived that encounter with my cousin Thirteen Bullet Barry. Well, if you thought all you had comin' to you was a mere thirteen bullets then think again!"

And with that Gun-Totin' Gary pointed his revolvers and started alternately pullin' the triggers on both the ruby and the emerald handled weapons as quick as fourteen quick little lightning bolts. He made sure to count carefully so he didn't look like a doofus pulling the triggers on empty guns after he'd fired all the rounds. And then he spun his dual revolvers on his fingers and slotted 'em back into their proper holsters. And finally he looked at Captain Arrrrenan to make sure he had died.

And then he gasped!

Captain Arrrrenan had simply pulled off his hat and held it in front of his chest and caught all fourteen bullets with it.

"What the...?" said G.T. Gary. "How'd you survive? What hat is that?"

"Ha ha ha," said Captain Arrrrenan. "Yes, the stories are true. I can only survive up to and including thirteen bullet wounds, and of course that means that a full course meal of fourteen lead bullets would surely be my last. But you failed to realize one thing."

He paused for effect.

"You see, Gun-Totin' Gary," he said. "After I pulverized that cousin of yours, Thirteen Bullet Barry, I helped myself to his hat, which in my infinite knowledge of esoteric artifactual magic items I'd instantly recognized as the Legendary Impenetrable Leather Pirate Hat of Bullet Immunity.

"Later on I'd asked around the grapevine and learned the story of how he got it. He'd taken it from his brother Sharp-Eyed Rifle-Wielding Randy after pushin' him down the stairs and shootin' him thirteen times in the back, which, as you know, was his signature move. See, Randy had drunk all of Barry's rum and when Barry decided to make a mojito he found his rum cask empty and figured out who had done it and killed him in a crime of passion.

"Well, then their father the Great Gunsmith Grant Granterson was pretty mad 'cause he'd given Randy the hat as a birthday present, not even realizing that it was an ancient magical artifact of mystical usefulness. Plus, one of his sons had just killed his other son, so there's that too. Pretty annoying for a dad.

"Anyway, Barry fled and wound up hiding out in Bernie's stronghold, the Black-Booted Fortress, having joined up with Bernie's crew long before you had worked your way up to being Bernie's First Mate. Well, since you were there, you probably know this part of the story, so wait a sec, lemme go back to the part about how Grant Granterson even got the hat in the first place. You see-"

"Shut up!" Gun-Totin' Gary leaped forward and drew his larger-than-normal scimitar. (He was a large guy though, so it looked like a regular sword when he held it.)

But Captain Arrrrenan ducked out of the way and spun around to G.T. Gary's back side and slashed him open on one side with his golden fightin' cutlass. Half of Gary's muscles fell out through the hole and one arm deflated to become the arm of a wimpy little teenage nerd.

"Hey!" G.T. Gary said. "I need those muscles to fight!"

"Yeah, well, tough beans!" said Captain Arrrrenan, and as G.T. Gary turned to smash him with his other arm, Captain Arrrrenan promptly slashed open the other side of G.T. Gary's torso, and all the rest of his muscles fell out, and then G.T. Gary wasn't nearly so tough any more. G.T. Gary tried punching Captain Arrrrenan, but his punches just kept bouncing off 'cause he was all out of muscles and had no more strength.

"That's what I call a... a..." started Captain Arrrrenan, but he couldn't think of a clever one-liner, so he shrugged and just nudged G.T. Gary off the side of the ship where he splashed into the water and immediately got eaten by a great white shark.

Then he turned and raced up the stairs to where Black-Booted Bernie was waitin' for him up on the poop deck.

"Now," said Captain Arrrrenan, "you're in some deep poop!" Hey, he tried, okay?

"I don't appreciate your tone, Arrrrenan!"

"That's Captain Arrrrenan!"

"Oh right, Captain Arrrrenan, sorry. I don't appreciate your tone, Captain Arrrrenan, you dirty ol' dog of a scurvy pirate!"

"Well, too bad!" said Captain Arrrrenan. "I'm here to get repayment for that railing you broke on my ship!"

"I'm not paying for that! It was broken when I got here! It would have just fallen apart anyway."

"No, Bernie-"

"That's Black-Booted Bernie!" retorted B.B. Bernie.

"Oh right, my apologies," said Captain Arrrrenan. "Black-Booted Bernie. You broke my pirate ship railing! Why'd ya do it for?"

Black-Booted Bernie got a serious look on his face. He grimaced and he straightened his spectacles, and then turned and faced away from Captain Arrrrenan. Then he said in a stern voice, "you raided my Black-Booted Fortress and stole all my favorite casks of gunpowder. I didn't appreciate that very much, Captain Arrrrenan, I surely did not. Besides, I thought you were, like, some libertarian or anarcho-capitalist or something. What ever happened to the NAP?"

"No, no, no," said Captain Arrrrenan. "This is a really common misunderstanding. I'm a pirate libertarian. It's totally not even the same thing at all."

B.B. Bernie turned and scoffed. "What?"

Captain Arrrrenan explained. "In my little fantasy world, the NAP only extends as far as my crew and any other free passengers on my ship, like old college roommates or my lawyer friend who lives back in Port Royal, sometimes they come and get a ride on my ship, you know?"

"Seriously?" said B.B. Bernie.

"Yeah, I explained this at the beginning of the story, did you forget? Oh, uh... uh... I mean... you scurvy dog of a scallywonk?"

"I think you lost track of what this story was supposed to be about, Captain Arrrrenan."

Captain Arrrrenan scratched his chin. "Hmmmm, maybe you're right. Let's try this conversation again."

And he turned around and went right back down the stairs off the poop deck and then came right back up.

"Gotcha, Black-Booted Bernie!" said Captain Arrrrenan. "Gimme that coin-purse!"

"Why?"

"You broke my pirate ship railing! Why fore'd ye do it?"

B.B. Bernie straightened his spectacles, turned and thought for a moment, then turned and answered:

My friend

Sometimes in this pirate life
A pirate does what a pirate must do
And when a pirate does do what a pirate does
Then a pirate...​

Captain Arrrrenan leapt forward and chopped off B.B. Bernie's head mid-stanza and caught the coin-purse before it hit the ground. He punted B.B. Bernie's head and it landed in a cannon on the main deck, and Captain Arrrrenan signaled to Fuse-Lightin' Fred to let 'er rip. He lit the fuse and the cannon fired and B.B. Bernie's head soared through the air over the water and for a few seconds there right smack dab in between the two small pirate ships, the pirate head drifted in slow motion and it might have seemed to an observer who was watching a movie that there was a brief moment of calm and serenity and peace where the sweet-ass pirate theme music faded away to leave the soothing sounds of the ocean churning its pleasant little song of water lapping against the wood of two small pirate ships and maybe the call of a seagull or two, and strangely enough it was as though the face on B.B. Bernie's head was smiling a little piratey smile and gave a wink even.

The End.

Physics in Motion

I own a small building downtown, and one of the units in that building is rented out to a fitness company that holds classes, the sort you might see taking place in a gym. Karate, cycling, Tae Bo, you know the sort of thing I'm talking about.

Well, the other day I was down there checking up on things, and a karate class was just finishing up. Now, there was an aerobics class of some kind called Physics in Motion, which was supposed to start right afterwards. Unfortunately, as far as I could tell, the instructor wasn't there. She simply didn't show up. Of course, the people taking the class were there, and they wanted their exercise!

Obviously, I too wanted them to have their exercise. I wanted their money! So I did the only natural thing that any reasonable property owner would do, which was to pose as a substitute instructor and lead the class myself. I gave a little spiel which proceeded in a manner similar to the following:

"So, everyone gather around, Physics in Motion is going to begin. Your regular instructor isn't here tonight, but apparently I'm some kind of fitness expert, so I'm going to lead instead. You see, in aerobics we move our bodies a lot, and I guess the basic idea is that you sweat a lot and therefore start burning fat or something like that. I don't know, but people do this stuff, so I guess it works. Anyway, today's animal is the speed leopard! Er... I think it was maybe the cheetah? Nevermind, let's get started."

So I started to jog very lightly in place, and the people enrolled in the class followed suit.

"This feels pretty good. Starting to feel the burn. Yeah, that's good! Getting in shape!"

We continued to jog in place like this for about a minute.

"Let's just keep this up! This is good! Nice form, everybody!"

Finally, someone said to me, "I don't think this is going to work."

Rorschach

So... long story short... There's a game making exercise at SuperFriendshipClub with a theme of "Symmetry." So I made this little game/kinda-not-really-a-game-thingy:

Rorschach

Click here or here for the files. Sadly, it's Windows only right now.

Feedback?

Null Terminator

I have to preface this entry by explaining who Null Terminator is. Null Terminator is a composer, a sort of kindred spirit to myself, whom I have been working with on and off for some time now on a forthcoming album of electronic music. But there is another Null Terminator. He is the protagonist of the story set forth in the album. He is a sort of space age superhero, granted authority in the late twenty-second century by the Catholic Federation to use lethal force against any of a select group of evildoers, one of whom is called Sentinel, another of whom is called The Void Star.

A week or two ago I dreamed that I was Null Terminator, and I was fighting against both Sentinel and The Void Star simultaneously using advanced martial arts techniques. For some reason, I was also fighting against Batman and Robin and Jackie Chan. They had all ganged up on me in the hopes that through sheer force they might be able to take me down.

Nevertheless, I summarily trounced them, every last one.

~   ~   ~

I should point out that although this entry is very short, the dream was in fact quite long, and the battle was basically just one long sequence of them trying to punch and kick me, me blocking every last attack, and then at the end me incapacitating them with a single blow. Thus, I have tagged it as Important (Long).

The Hand that 30 Rocks the Cradle

Several nights ago, I dreamed that the final season of 30 Rock found the show reinvented as a "Political Intrigue/Science Fiction Thriller Serial Drama." The secret behind Jack Donaghy's success was revealed to be the fact that he is actually a set of identical triplets posing as a single person. Each Jack's personality, of course, was fashioned according to the treatment he received from his dear old mother, who for some reason deemed it appropriate to pick favorites. At the beginning of the final sequence of episodes, Liz Lemon and Good Jack were on the run from Evil Jack, who presumably intended to take over the world or destroy it or something along those lines. I cannot recall whether I knew the whereabouts of the third Jack or whether he was good or evil, but I have an inkling that Evil Jack killed him. Of course, this means he's probably going to do the old deus ex machina thing and turn up alive and well in the final episode so he can help Liz and Good Jack save the day.

I can't decide if I actually want this version of the show to exist or not.

Names from Decades Past

The guests of the dinner party were aware of every other's name, except for the man wearing the hawk mask. Normally, they didn't mind seeing new faces in the house at the top of the hill, but that was precisely the problem. They couldn't see his face. It seemed clear to them that there was something wrong with this. Why would a man conceal his face? What was it that he feared? And who was he?

Besides, he was well armed, a rapier on one side, a short sword on the other, and feathered armor made to match the hawklike nature of his headgear. And with his concealed identity, he was a well armed stranger.

It would not do.

But it was Anton the Host who had invited him, and that was the only reason that the Hawkman was still present. If not for his influence, they would have forced him to remove his mask or immediately would have had him cast out without a morsel to eat. But Anton said he was to stay, and so he stayed.

Everyone wanted to ask him why he wore the mask, but in their anxiety they all restrained themselves and tried to content themselves with the food and idle conversation.

"The weather has taken a turn for the better, I'd say," said Markus the Stalwart.

"I hear they've discovered gold in the north," said Ulysses the Tall.

"This blowfin steak is superb," said Timothy the Hungry.

Yet the room bore in the air a tension that would not fade, like lines of live wire stretched taut across the room. Everyone had noticed that the Hawkman was not eating.

"Sir, I'm afraid I didn't catch what your name was," Lucille the Delicate said to him.

The chatter ceased, and everyone turned to face him. The ticking of the grandfather clock at the far end of the room counted to five, but he gave no answer.

"Please, my friends," said Anton the Host, "our honored guest's background makes necessary a most unusual measure of privacy. Suffice to say that he simply cannot share his name with you at this time."

Timothy changed the subject. "Might someone pass me some more of that turquoise shelltart. It's incredi-"

"Why do you wear the mask!?" Markus blurted out.

Anton stood to his feet. "Markus! This is outrageous! Silence yourself!"

The Hawkman turned his head and faced Markus the Stalwart directly. The Stalwart, though unable to see the other's eyes in the darkness behind the hawk mask, felt momentarily less stalwart, as though the Hawkman's gaze had skewered his heart through a gap in his steel breastplate. Nevertheless, Markus stood to his feet.

"I demand to know who you are, what you want, and why you wear that ridiculous mask!"

Anton started to speak, but he knew that the merriment of the party was gone and could not be restored. He looked at the Hawkman anxiously to see what he would do.

The Hawkman stood to his feet and seemed about to say something, but suddenly he cocked his head as though listening intently. Instantly, he reached for the rapier at his side and leaped over the table.

Amidst the startled cries of the other dinner guests, Markus drew his own rapier and made to thrust it into the Hawkman's chest, but his opponent was much too fast. The Stalwart thought that he was doomed, but the Hawkman ignored his threat and darted past him toward the front door.

The door burst inward, landing flat on the floor. A mass of animate yellow headed corpses came pouring through from the darkness outside. The man in the hawk mask lunged and put his rapier's point into the left eye of the first one inside. Momentarily phased, it shook its head violently, wrenching the sword from the Hawkman's hand, and it continued racing forward. The swordsman retreated, drawing his short sword from his other side.

"Zombies!" cried Anton. The others began screaming and standing to their feet, but the corpses seemed not the least bit slowed by death. In an instant, the zombies had set upon Timothy and Ulysses, the two nearest the door.

Timothy's neck became a crimson fountain as the monster's teeth sank in. His mouth flew open with gurgled screaming, bits of his dinner flying from his mouth and intermingling with his blood. Ulysses began trying to pummel their attackers with his long arms, but soon the zombies began to chew upon his limbs, and he fainted in weakness.

The Hawkman guided his short sword through the necks of two of the monsters. Their heads flew across the room, one of them landing in the roast hamturkey, and their bodies slunk to the floor.

"We can kill them!" the Hawkman shouted, lunging toward another corpse.

"There's too many of them!" cried Markus, smashing a zombie's head with the hilt of his rapier. "We must retreat!"

The Hawkman decapitated another of the monsters and leaped backwards from another's groping hands. "We have hope until you stop fighting! Keep fighting!"

But Markus the Stalwart turned and ran to the window at the back of the house. Lucille the Delicate tried to follow him there, but a zombie grabbed her from behind and quickly loosed the blood from her neck. She screamed and fell to the ground.

"Damn you, coward!" the Hawkman shouted. "They cannot be infinite!"

"Die alone if you wish," Markus said and disappeared through the window.

Anton the Host fled up the stairs, and the Hawkman followed him. He sliced off another of the zombie's heads before following Anton into the bedroom, locking the door behind him.

"What are they?" asked the Hawkman.

Anton caught his breath and answered. "They're zombies. The living dead. They won't rest until they cover the earth."

They heard banging and growling on the other side of the door.

"Why are they here?"

"I don't know," said Anton. "They do have a commander, but I don't know who he is. Perhaps if we find him, we can put an end to it."

The Hawkman stood thinking. "I will find him."

The banging continued.

"How did they destroy the front door?" asked the Hawkman.

"I don't know that either, but it means that we don't have much time," said Anton, making his way across the room to the window. "Perhaps we can escape down the far side of the hill."

He opened the window and climbed out onto the side of the house.

The door burst open, and zombies poured through. Backing slowly from the horde, the Hawkman cleaved another two of their heads off.

Anton turned, saw the zombies, turned again too quickly, and fell shouting to the ground below.

The Hawkman killed another zombie and leaped through the window. He spread two great wings from the sides and back of his armor and glided softly to the ground. He looked around for Anton, but then he heard a scream.

He turned and saw a group of zombies descending upon the Host. He rushed toward them and sliced one of their heads off, but the others turned toward him, and he was forced to retreat.

The Hawkman leaped into the air and used his wings to propel himself to the roof of the house.

For a moment, the relative peace on the roof was almost serene, as though the zombies were but part of a dream. He looked around himself and saw an immense valley to the east. To the west...

Nothing but fire. The entire countryside in the distance was ablaze. How had they not noticed its glow during dinner?

He heard growling at his feet. The zombies were now clambering up onto the edge of the rooftop.

The Hawkman sprinted to the east side of the house, jumped toward the darkness, and flapped his wings downward as hard as he could. He spread his wings out on either side, gliding over the valley, leaving the zombies behind him.

The growling of the monsters became louder behind him, but then they began to fade. Soon it was completely quiet.

He knew that he was losing altitude, as he could not actually fly, but only glide, but the valley floor continued to descend away from him, producing the illusion that he was rising. He continued to glide as far as he could, hoping to put as much distance between himself and the zombies as possible.

After a long time, he began to see footprints in the ground far below. At first they were quite small, almost invisible, but to his astonishment he began to see larger and larger tracks. The feet that had produced the largest of them had to have been about the size of a small tool shed.

Finally, he touched down at the edge of a river at the valley basin.

He turned. In the darkness, he could not see the house, even with the fire burning beyond it. How far had he gone?

The Hawkman began to make his way south along the river, and soon, he came to a house built upon a wooden platform over the water. He crossed a wooden bridge and came to the doorway.

There was a sheet of paper beside the door. Looking at it, he realized that it was a guestbook. He scanned the list of names.

His own name was on it. A name from another time. He'd been here before, decades ago.

He took the pen and scratched his name out until it could not possibly be read.

The door opened, and appearing in the doorway was a humanoid with the features of an insect, an ant. He walked on two feet and held a cup of tea with one of four arms.

"I knew I heard someone out here," he said.

"Ant-Z," said the Hawkman.

"You remember?"

"Of course."

"Come in. It's just me and the missus right now."

The Hawkman made his way in.

"You look like shit."

"Feel like it, too."

~  ~  ~

I feel as though the above is probably poorly written. Oh well. I had a lot to write, and I didn't want to take too long. I don't dream about zombies often. In fact, this might be the first time. But I thought it was an interesting dream, so I put it down on paper.

Not sure what else to say so I'll just stop.