froodle: (Default)
[personal profile] froodle
This is the same pattern I used on my Eerie mugs, although it didn't print as bright on the canvas as it does on ceramics:

Read more... )
froodle: (Default)
[personal profile] froodle
Algernon the Invincible, all six foot eight inches and three hundred pounds of him, glistened beneath the hot white glare of the spotlights. His exposed skin was slick with baby oil and he stood tall and proud in his costume of gold and purple lycra. Around him, the screams of the crowd faded to a dull roar. Old Scratch slumped limply against the ropes, his horns askew, his face streaked with black and red where his makeup had run. Behind him, a rectangle of pulsing light hung in the air, the heat haze coming from within it making the image swim and buckle.

Algernon rushed forward, seizing the labouring devil with both hands. The other-worldly portal grew brighter, the temperature rising to almost unbearable levels as Algernon pushed forward, straining against his opponents' infernal strength. Behind the incandescent glow, something moved, dark and amorphous, and for a moment Algernon believed he could hear more than just the noise from the audience. He frowned, the motion pulling his gloriously waxed moustache down, and shook his head to dispel the troubling thought.

He lifted the King of Hell, his knees bending under a burden that seemed at odds with the Adversary's slight build, and pitched him through the shrieking gateway. The light snapped off, and Algernon was alone in the ring, illuminated only by the pale blue-green glow of the emergency lighting.

Satan was gone. The entrance to the Netherworld had been closed. The fans cheered and whistled and stamped their feet, while home-made placards waved madly in the murky, smoke-filled air.

"That was so fake," said Syndi Teller, pausing by the front door. She gave the television an incredulous look, shaking her head at the two boys who still knelt in front of it.

"Shows what you know," Marshall shot back.

Read the rest of the Teller Family History here )

Read the rest of the Trusted Associates verse here )
froodle: (Default)
[personal profile] froodle
Syndi Teller, swathed in a thick, fluffy bathrobe the colour of the summer sky, stepped out into the hallway. Her bare feet left damp prints on the short-pile carpet as she padded downstairs, using a small hand towel to pat her dripping hair as she walked. Abruptly she stopped, running her fingers through the wet and tangled mass, and cursed.

"Shampoo bubbles again?" asked her brother from his seat on the couch. He didn't so much as glance up from his magazine as he spoke.

"Yeah," said Syndi, turning back towards the staircase. "I think it's this new brand Mom's been buying, I can never get all the lather out on the first try."

"You know," said Marshall, setting aside his comic book and turning to look at her over the back of the settee, "There could be a way around it-"

"Marshall, if you're about to tell me that the ghost of Hans Schwarzkopf is hanging about in our shower and I need to sacrifice a plate of bratwurst to get him to keep his foamy leavings out of my hair, I don't want to hear it."

Marshall looked hurt.

"I was going to say, use the massage setting on your hair before you put the shampoo on, so it's really wet," he said. "That's all."

"Oh," said Syndi. "Sorry."

Marshall laughed.

"I was just messing with you," he said. "It's probably a nuisance imp jamming up the water flow. Put some beer in the bottom of Mom's mixing bowl and leave it outside the stall next time you're in there. It should fall in and drown."

He went back to his magazine. Syndi stood for a long moment, one hand resting lightly on the bannister, staring at the back of his head.

She turned, heading for the kitchen.

Read the rest of the Teller Family History here )
froodle: (Default)
[personal profile] froodle
(takes place directly after "Hangover")

"Hold up, Simon," Marshall called, balancing awkwardly on one leg. "I think I've got something in my shoe." He tugged at the white and gold laces of his Sky Monsters "Slammin' Summer" limited edition tennis shoes, which were already frayed to breaking point despite only being three weeks old.

While Simon waited, Marshall pulled the offending trainer loose and upended it, unleashing a torrent of sand, shale, and the occasional limpet shell that should not have been able to fit in there.

"I guess Harley's still mad about the sandcastle competition," he said. Simon winced, reaching for the thick white bandage that swathed much of his right arm, but managed to stop himself before he actually touched the wound.

"Looks like it," he agreed. "Although I'd be less worried about him filling your sneakers with gravel and more about the fact that he chewed a giant hole through the heel."

Marshall tilted the Sky Monster to get a better look at the ragged-edged gash torn through the electric-blue sole.

"Nah," he said. "That's just wear and tear. And mudsnakes, but mostly it's just from walking around and riding my bike and stuff."

"Maybe you should try another brand," said Simon.

Read the rest of the Trusted Associates verse here )

Read the rest of the Holmes Brothers series here )
froodle: (Default)
[personal profile] froodle
The water supply had been shut off, and the great stone gargoyle whose spurting mouth and dripping nostrils had delighted children all summer now gaped, dry and thirsting. The bulb above it's head had burned out and it's craggy features were dull and pedestrian in the gloom cast by the alcove in which it nestled. The fountain's basin had once gleamed treasure bright with wishing pennies and discarded sweet wrappers, but was now covered by a thick green-brown layer of algae above a black and stagnant pool that stank of abandon and decay.

Officer Derek ran a roll of hazard tape between two traffic cones, marking off the area. He glanced at the gargoyle, leering emptily above it's desolate kingdom, and his eyes glittered with sympathetic tears. He reached out to give it a comforting pat while his other hand unclipped the heavy two-way radio from his belt. Sniffling, he pressed the large red "talk" button, gave his patrol number and location, and waited while Fred Suggs, posing as a police dispatcher, connected him to his boss.

"It's horrible," he sobbed. "Gum in the waterspout. Everything blocked! Who would be so cruel?"

Sergeant Knight reached for his sidearm, and stood.

Read the rest of the Microwave verse here )

Read the rest of the Holmes Brothers series here )


eerieindiana: (Default)
Eerie Indiana

September 2017

      1 2
3 4 5 6 7 8 9
10 11 12 13 14 15 16
17 18 19 20 21 2223


RSS Atom

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 24th, 2017 05:07 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios