Apr. 30th, 2020

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April is here and Easter will soon be upon us. Traditionally a time for bunnies, in Eerie they probably have the Easter Jackalope bringing their chocolate eggs. To celebrate, I'll be posting a different Jackalope-themed bit of merch every day in April.

For the last day, here's a beautiful silvery boy from AwwfulAdopts:

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It's Thursday, the day we dedicate to Simon's absolute best boy, Sparky the Hellhound.

Here's a good snakey lad from AdleyIllustrations:

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evilinsanemonkey: Marshall Teller and Dash X from Eerie Indiana making eyes at each other (Eerie: Dash/Mars)
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Full disclosure: I didn't have a chance to read this.

For those who did:

What about it makes you think of Eerie?

And whatever other discussion topics you want to...discuss.


Our next book is: Paper Girls book 1 by Brian K. Vaughn and the discussion post for that will go up May 31st.

Remember, you can always go to past discussion posts and revive discussions if you read/reread a book!
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"I'm not saying they look like sea-snot," said Marshall, "But they kind of look exactly like sea-snot."

Janet shook her head.

"That was the special from last week," she said. "The Sea Witch doesn't have a cold anymore, so sea-snot's off the menu."

Marshall had been pale from the moment he stepped into the Baitshop's narrow kitchen, but now he was almost green.

"People actually eat sea-witch boogers?" he asked. "On purpose?"

Janet rolled her eyes.

"Of course not," she said. "Jeez, Mars. That would be gross."

She continued shucking oysters, her knife blade flashing.

"We advertised it as jellyfish."


Ongoing Verse: Janet

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There was no reasonable explanation for the existence of the Eerie Museum of Maritime History.

A landlocked town in a landlocked state, Eerie's only sizable bodies of water were the model boating pool in Deadwood Park (infested with both monsters and the sort of people who like model boats) and the lake (infested only with monsters, but there were more of them and they tended to be bigger).

Marshall's working theory was that the Museum began as somebody's version of the Secret Spot, investigating all the ocean-going weirdness in supposedly ocean-free Indiana, and had grown.

He longed to meet them.

Ongoing Verse: Trusted Associates Inc

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The ghost pirates had acquired a paddle steamer and they chugged back and forth across the surface of Lake Eerie, pausing occasionally to let out a loud hoot from the various whistles that jutted from the elderly vessel.

"I thought they were into Viking longboats?" said Marshall, snapping a few photographs more out of habit than any real expectation that the ghosts would show up on film.

Janet shrugged.

"I guess they wanted a change," she said. "Can ghosts have a mid-life crisis? Mid-death cri- what's the word for something like this?"

Marshall thought about it.

"Weird," he said eventually.


Ongoing Verse: Janet

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Ongoing Verse: Trusted Associates Inc

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According to the rumour mill, which occupied the same stretch of road as Grungy Bill's old home but had been kept in much better condition, something had been dredged up by the summer storms.

The rumours differed on what exactly that something was, only that it was strange, possibly dangerous, and absolutely and definitively a something.

Oh, and it was in one of the rock pools.

Marshall stood in front of the "Summertime Fun!" display beside the World o' Stuff's cash register, pondering which size shrimp net to get. How big was a "something", anyway?

He reached for the biggest.

Ongoing Verse: Trusted Associates Inc

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Edgar Teller looked at his son's report card and sighed. Marilyn, concerned, peered over his shoulder.

"It's not Mars," her husband assured her quickly. "His grades are fine. It's the fact that some of his teachers have misspelled his name."

He pointed. Marilyn shook her head.

"I don't understand how you can even misspell 'Teller'," she said. "Much less why they would think his name is 'Maars Teeelr.'"

"Maybe he was really excited when he introduced himself?" said Syndi, coming into the kitchen and snatching an apple from the bowl on the counter. "He does get a bit... Marshally, y'know?"


Ongoing Verse: Janet

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Ongoing Verse: Teller Family History

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The Loyal Order of Corn's sub-sub basement was, contrary to good naming conventions, the second of three layers of subterranean tunnels that lay beneath the lodge.

"It's the basement between the basement and the sub-basement," Radford had explained when he gave Dash the tour. "Like a creepy, cobwebby buttercream in between two cakey layers of mystery."

After that, Dash had kept his questions to a minimum, if only to avoid another simile.

The walkie talkie in his hand crackled, and he scowled as he pressed the mute button.

"You're on the wrong floor," he said into the receiver. "Go up."

Ongoing Verse: Microwave

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The street was named Tennis Court Lane, and it was reached by turning right at Tennis Court Road. Marshall checked the street signs on the corner, then checked his map, then cursed.

"There's no tennis court here," he said. "I think this map is old or something."

Simon shook his head.

"No, it's here," he said, pointing to a patch of dead ground where a couple of partially-disassembled cars were slowly rusting into the soil.

"But the developers didn't have the right Hubbub License to build here, so it's out of phase with reality until they get the paperwork sorted."

Ongoing Verse: The Powers That Be

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Ongoing Verse: Trusted Associates Inc

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The curly fries were monstrous twists of madness, each coil a potato-y rebuke against a sane world governed by the laws of a knowable reality. Tod McNulty ignored the singing of dead Gods that crashed soundlessly against his ears, and picked up the salt cellar.

"Aren't you going to try them first?" whispered something cold and slick and unspeakably horrible inside his mind. "What kind of a cook are you, seasoning without tasting?"

A bead of sweat trickled down Tod's hairline, taking a trickle black shoe polish with it. His hands shook.

The curly fries laughed, and laughed, and laughed.


Ongoing Verse: Janet

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The sky was grey, the clouds hung low and heavy with unshed rainfall. Marshall Teller opened the curtains as far as they would go, and tied them there as leaden daylight oozed sluggishly into the living room.

Simon emerged from the kitchen, yawning hugely, his slippers making staticky sounds on the cheap, worn carpet. He saw the weather outside and brightened.

"Film noir or monster movies?" he said.

"Both," said Marshall, passing him a copy of the Eerie Examiner opened to the "What's On" page. "Monster Mash Marathon all day, hardboiled detectives after the watershed."

"I'll make popcorn!" said Simon.

Ongoing Verse: Microwave

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Ongoing Verse: Weather

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