Fantasy Football Part 4

It’s the next installment of the blog hopping story written by Matticus and myself. Be sure to go over there and check it out.

The Matticus Kingdom

Revis and I are back with the next installment in our fantastical fantasy football story.  We hope you enjoy.  I mean, how could you not?  Isn’t Fantasy Football all the rage these days?

Not sure what’s going on?  This LINK will take you back to the beginning. 

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The players devoured their stew, with much grumbling, but as Plex had noted earlier while they were complaining about the smell in line, their joint complaint actually seemed to bring them closer.  It was outrageous that the dragon had changed up the teams and then even more outrageous that the beast wasn’t giving the new teams ample time to train together.  Plus, those teams playing in the first game were at even more of a disadvantage because they wouldn’t have as much time to practice as the other four teams.  Perhaps the dragon would rectify that for the remaining games but given…

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Fantasy Football Part 3

Here is the next installment of the blog hopping story by Matticus and myself. Sorry it took so long to get it to you. There was a delay caused by a miscommunication between us. There’s no point in assigning blame (it was actually my fault, but since this is my blog, I’m still going to say it was his). Let’s just sit back, relax and enjoy Part 3.

***** ***** *****

“Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!”

Plex jumped up reaching for a sword. The voice was so loud, and so insistent, that he thought they were under attack. When he was awake enough to take in his surroundings, he realized that he was in his team’s training encampment. It was his new coach who had awakened him. His coach was yelling into some cone shaped contraption that somehow amplified his voice.

A quick glance around showed that none of his teammates appreciated the wake up call, especially since it was still dark outside. Many of them appeared like they were going to protest this intrusion, but Plex doubted that it would come to that. The vision of what the dragon did to the minotaur when he complained was still fresh in their minds. They might grumble under their breaths, but they wouldn’t voice their displeasure out loud. They didn’t want to be Lavalandinarial’s next meal. Continue reading

Paintballer

As you may have seen, I did a “Captain Procrastination” story a few days ago. When I first wrote a story about him (many, many years ago), I had no plans on making a series out of it. To me, it was just a humorous concept. It was a person who had good superhuman powers, but was still a lame hero. Eventually, the novelty wore off and I tired of writing them.

So, I thought I’d flip the concept with my follow up character, DICO. He was a good (or at least decent) hero who had lame powers. That novelty wore off pretty quickly too. But, the recent CP story (which honestly only came about because of a joke between Matticus and myself) made me think back to a character I had come up with probably close to 15 years ago named Paintballer, who was both a lame hero and had lame powers.

Well, I guess technically he had no powers, but that’s beside the point.

A coworker of mine had heard about a contest at a comic book convention (it wasn’t the local one in Cincinnati. I think it was the one in Indianapolis or something). The contest involved making your own comic book/superhero movie, lasting between 5 to 10 minutes long. I don’t remember what the prize was for winning, but the two of us made plans to enter. We were going to do two movies, one for each of us.

There were two main problems we had to overcome. The first was budget…. we had none.

Neither of us had any money, so anything we did would have to involve things we either already had or that could be obtained for little or no money.

The second main problem was safety. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but a lot of superhero movies have a lot of fighting in them and are pretty special effects heavy. As neither of us had any experience in either of these areas, the story couldn’t include things that could cause any permanent damage.

Paintballer solved both of those problems. The basic premise of the story was that a guy was being harrassed/abused by a couple of drug dealers in his neighborhood and decides to take action with the only weapon he has: his cheap, single shot paintball gun.

It solved the first problem because I already had one of those paintball guns. I never tried to use it to actually play paintball. It was only used to goof around/target practice before then. It solved the second problem because, barring getting shot in the eye, getting hit by a paintball wouldn’t cause any serious injuries. Plus, I was going to write it to where nobody got shot in the face. But, just to be safe, I was going to have my “drug dealers” wear sunglasses to cover their eyes in case something went really wrong.

Paintballer wasn’t going to win the day through skill. It was going to be pure luck. Five to ten minutes isn’t a lot of time to tell a story, or plan a fight, so I was going to have it be a slapstick, people getting shot in the nuts (wearing a cup, or other type of protection of course) kind of thing.

Sadly, Paintballer was not meant to be. We got started on it too late, and my coworker and I were never able to get enough time off together to ever put anything down on film, for either his project or mine. I thought about making the video anyway, even if it didn’t get submitted for the contest, but it didn’t seem worth it. Besides, not too many people would probably volunteer to let me shoot paintballs at them without getting some sort of compensation for it.

Over the past few days, I’ve thought about reviving Paintballer and making him more modern. Such as, giving him special paintballs kind of like how Hawkeye and Green Arrow have special arrows. Maybe he has a paintball that releases knockout gas when it ruptures, or one that packs a small amount of explosives so he can blow the lock off a door.

Or, maybe he’ll stay on the trash pile. I don’t know.

The Return of Captain Procrastination?

He looked over the paper in front of him and sighed. Being the mayor was not something he’d ever envisioned for himself. The only reason he had the job is because the last mayor was killed by a crime lord who called himself The Boss.
Despite the unimaginative name, The Boss had successfully taken over the city’s underworld after the death of its costumed superhero, Captain Procrastination. The city’s lame replacement hero, DICO, managed to score a couple of minor victories against The Boss, but he disappeared after the mayor was killed while under his protection (for the full story of DICO’s disappearance, please see his new story arc… that I haven’t written yet).
“Excuse me, Mr. Mayor.”
The voice from behind made him jump. He turned to see a figure standing in front of his office window, but the glare from the sun blocked his full view. All he saw was the outline of a head and a body wearing the costume of…
“Captain Procrastination,” he breathed in disbelief.
The mayor rolled his chair to the side to get out of the glare and got his first real glimpse of the person standing there. It was clearly not Captain Procrastination. “You’re not him,” the mayor said.
“I’m not the original, no. I’m the new one, and I’m better.”
“Oh really?” he asked, playing along with the clown dressed in the Captain Procrastination costume. “The first one was super fast. Can you do that?”
“No.”
“Then what’s your superpower?”
“I look good in tights.”
While the mayor had to admit that the man had the body for the outfit, he didn’t have time, nor the inclination, to keep the charade up. “That’s not a superpower.”
“When you look this good, it is.”
“Get out of my office. And how did you get in here? The door is on the other side of the room.”
“Captain Procrastination away!”
The mayor watched in confusion as the man in the costume jumped out the window. When he heard the sound of the man landing on metal, he remembered that there was a fire escape outside. “Captain Procrastination” ran down the stairs with his arms out in front of him, making an airplane noise with his mouth as he went. The mayor shook his head, closed the window, sat back down, and went back to work reviewing the documents, hoping to never see that idiot again.

Fantasy Football Part 2

Here’s Part 2 of the blog hopping story I’m doing with Matticus. Check it out!

The Matticus Kingdom

Here is the second installment of Revis and I back to our old tricks, blog hopping a story for your enjoyment, amusement, what have you.  The first part can be found here.

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Each of the initial teams – dwarves, elves, ogres, orcs, gnomes, goblins, trolls, and minotaurs – were broken apart based on position.  Then each position was lined up based on starting place within the team.  Then each player and coach was told to select a piece of paper out of an enchanted goblet that contained their new team assignments.

The field descended into chaos.  The coaches tried to bark out orders to regain some control but the players didn’t know who they should be listening to: their old coaches or the new ones they were being assigned.  Small skirmishes broke out here and there as the different races passed each other.  Near the fifty yard line…

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Fantasy Football Part 1

Hey everyone! A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away (yet still kinda close), Matticus and I did a story called Revis and Matticus Save the Kingdom. We both wrote on each part and then rotated on whose blog the next part would be published on. Well, we’re doing a new one. This is just the first part of our new blog hopping story. The next part will be published over at The Matticus Kingdom

We hope you’ll enjoy it.

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The ball felt good leaving his hand. He watched as it flew through the air in a nice, tight spiral. Accuracy was the only question now. It was aimed correctly, but did he judge the distance correctly?

His receiver’s hands wrapped around the ball mid-flight. It was placed perfectly. Two feet touched down, in bounds, as the receiver fell out of the back of the endzone. He pumped his fist. Touchdown!

The whistle blew and it was followed quickly by his coach saying, “Good job, Marapleksian.” After a pause, the coach turned to the sideline and hollered, “Backups, it’s your turn.”

He ran off the field, shaking his head at his coach’s insistence on using his whole name. Everybody else just called him Plex. Even his traditionalist parents had relented and began calling him the shortened middle part of his name. They didn’t like it, but hearing his friends call him that for 123 years finally wore them down.  Continue reading

What’s Inside

His alarm went off, signaling the start of another day he would spend at work. He brushed the loose strands of his light brown hair away from his eyes before opening them. If he were being honest, he’d admit that he didn’t like his hair being long enough to fall into his eyes, but the longer hair seemed to be more popular with the ladies. That’s the only reason he kept it.

He rolled over to the edge of the bed and sat up. A yawn escaped as he cursed his lack of sleep. Not only had he been up late putting his hair to good use last night, but what little sleep he did get was fitful. He tossed and turned. While he sleeps, his mind bombards him with images and memories of the times he’s been hurt. And the times that he’s been the one hurting another. Those are the moments that haunt him the most.

Lately, those feelings of hurt had escaped from his dreams and they started attacking him throughout the day. Whiskey and women helped push the feelings away, but they were a temporary fix. Once his bed was empty, or his sobriety returned, the feelings would come back to try to break him down. If things stayed the way they were, his breaking point would come soon.

“It’s too early in the morning for this shit,” he mumbled to himself as he stood up.

He walked into his bathroom and turned the cold water on in the sink. Cupping his hands, he splashed some of the water on his face before looking at himself in the mirror. The water on his hands wet his hair, which pulled back as he ran his fingers through it. Red ran through the whites of his green eyes. Stubble covered his dimpled chin. He needed to shave, but didn’t feel like it. A little bit of growth on his face for a day wouldn’t kill him.

As that thought ran through his mind, his reflection in the mirror smiled. He jumped. That shouldn’t be possible. He hadn’t smiled. Only his reflection did.

A nervous chuckle escaped his lips. I’m just imagining things, he thought. It’s just a manifestation of too much to drink and not enough sleep.

He splashed another handful of water on his face, hoping the cold liquid would wake him from whatever stupor he was in. After staring at his face in the mirror for a minute straight, waiting to see if something else would happen, nothing did. He wrote it off as his mind playing tricks on him. That’s when he got the most excruciating headache he had ever felt. His brain felt like it was on fire.

He grabbed at his head and cried out in pain. His body thrashed about uncontrollably. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes and threatened to block his vision. Somehow, through all of that, he saw what had started this whole thing in the first place. His reflection in the mirror didn’t match his movements.

While he writhed in pain, his reflection stood motionless, with its arms crossed, as if bored by the whole display. He tried to hold still long enough to get a better look at it, but he couldn’t. His body wasn’t responding to his commands. The pain was too much.

To his surprise, and horror, his reflection moved. Its hands shot out of the mirror and grabbed him on either side of his face. “Be still,” his reflection ordered.

His uncontrollable body responded to the demand instantly. “What are you?” he asked when he finally found his voice.

The reflection laughed. It began changing in front of his eyes. He watched as it kept growing darker and darker until it was devoid of all color and light. His reflection was nothing more than a human shaped area of blackness. It laughed even harder as a chill of fear rolled down his spine.

“You wish to know what I am?” it purred. “Then I shall tell you. I am every hurt you’ve ever felt. I am every hurt you’ve ever given. I am every fear that has shaken your soul or has come from your actions. I am your every wrong. I am the part of you that you don’t wish the world to see.”

“What?”

“I’ll simplify it for you. You know how everyone has inner demons that they wrestle with?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, your inner demon isn’t very ‘inner’ anymore.”

Before he could ask what that meant, the dark form lunged at him. Right when it looked like it would hit the mirror, it disappeared. The hands holding his face went away too. Then he felt a thud in his chest and couldn’t breathe. It suddenly felt like he was drowning. He fell backward, the blackness that made up his reflection pouring out of his mouth and nose.

The impact with the ground made him see stars. A black shape appeared in his blurred vision. “Thank you for birthing me,” it said. “Thank you for feeding me and making me so strong.” It paused. “Unfortunately for you, you’ve made me strong enough that I don’t need you anymore.”

The last thing he saw was a surge of blackness coming for him.