Now Find Me…

Hello…and welcome.

I’m glad you found me.

However this is my old blog. It has a lot of short stories, funny musings, and other ramblings. Feel free to explore…

There will be no new updates on this site.

But…

When you are done, head over to Podcast 42 to find me in my new home!

 

The Most Outlandish Tale About Anxiety and Depression Ever Told

Wait wait, the story doesn’t start here!  This is a blog hop, people!  Click HERE to start from the beginning.

—–

The taller of the two figures looks straight at me and says,

“Is there something I can help you with?!”

He seems a little annoyed. I try to play it light,

“Um, your extension cord is showing…hee, hee…”

The shorter one frantically begins looking over the bundle. The droplets of sweat that have accumulated on his forehead spill to the ground in a salty typhoon for any passing by ants to enjoy. He spies the extension cord and reaches for it with one hand.

“No! Stop! We are dropping it!” the Tall one grits through his teeth.

The bundle starts to shift in their arms. Both men grasp for purchase, but gravity reaches up and yanks the package hard from their limbs. It hits the ground like a 300 pound professional wrestler hitting the mat in an over exaggerated, yet somewhat aerodynamic, death fall.

The metallic thunk reverberates off the pavement and bounces off the apartment walls.

The tall one hisses, “Jesus, we are going to wake up every make-up wielding dateless chick in the neighborhood!”

“Hey!” I said indigently. “Do not, and I mean, DO NOT call me a dateless chick! I am a dateless woman!”

“Sorry,” the Tall one replies.

Suddenly all eyes look at the plastic bag lying on the ground, which is now tiger stripped shredded from the contents within. What looks like a rather large lava lamp wearing a Christmas turtleneck is revealed. It also has two big hubcap wheels on the bottom of it, and two antenna sticking out of the top of it. The largest extension cord ever protrudes from a small compartment on it’s…butt? Duct tape is randomly stuck to it here and there.

“Poop on a stick, she has seen it!” hisses the Smaller one.

“Well, you know what we have to do now…” Tall replies with a rather wicked grin on his face.

—-

Click HERE to continue the story.

 

The All-Time Best Fictional Baseball Team Ever Produced by Hollywood Movies

The 2014 Major League Baseball season has begun and to kick it off here’s a look at the best baseball players and coaches at each position from the minds of the screenwriters, directors, and actors in Hollywood.

Roy Hobbs – Right Field, The Natural (1984)

This 35 year old rookie and former pitching phenom is the stand-out of stand-outs on our list. He alone has more talent than the rest of the list combined and his movie is considered a classic. Sure in the movie the 35-year-old Hobbs is played by 48-year-old Robert Redford (which make the scenes where a 19-year-old Hobbs has his baseball career delayed by psycho Barbara Hershey utterly ridiculous), but the actor’s well worn features just show us that over the 16 years in between getting shot on a train and joining the hapless New York Knights, Hobbs has seen some serious stuff. Hobbs and his…

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My Interview With A Gross Stunt Taste Testor

Come visit me at Long Awkward Pause as I try maggot cheese…enough said.

Ed Ames unlocks the studio door for me, as I enter the dimly lit corridor.

“Shhhh!” he says.  “Remember, we are not suppose to be here.”

“I know,” I mouth back.

I am at a secret location which is an old  movie and TV set. We continue down the hall until we reach the aging wooden stage. On the stage sits a lone card table with several glass bowls. We head up the three rickety stairs and towards the table. A single light shines down and highlights the bowls.

Ed points to them one by one and tells me whats in them, “Dish one: Balut, which is underdeveloped duck fetus in an egg….Dish two: Beetle larva…and dish three: casu marzu, or maggot cheese.”

“And these are all safe to eat?” I ask a little hesitantly.

Ed smiles, “Yes, of course. That’s my job, to research the most bizarre and grossest…

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Everyone Has An Amazon Best Seller But Me

When you immerse yourself into this WordPress cult, er..culture, suddenly every one you know has an Amazon Best Seller book to their credit.

I don’t have an Amazon Best Seller book to my credit.

I would like one…however that would require writing a book. I have put together some semblance of a book, but it currently sits in pieces between the apps/programs of Evernote, Microsoft Word, and Jotterpad X…like some century old Romans rushed in, tied it together and quartered it with their horses before galloping off to get Eggnog shakes from McDonalds. Jokes on you, century old Romans, the Shamrock shake should be available soon, and it’s a much, much, better choice in the shake-mosphere.

I do however have one published story, and one rejection letter:

Well you know what? Heads Will Roll is a damn fine story. Maybe you don’t like zombies Mr. Jonathan Starke, but don’t tell me about my time, effort, passion, and energy that I put into that story when you don’t know! Especially since I put no time or effort into it, AND I probably ate three packages of Brown Sugar Cinnamon Pop Tarts while writing it, dribbling Pop Tart crumbs onto the keyboard in the process. I probably also drank/drunk several Coke Zeros too. Most likely I put more effort, passion, and energy into burping Brown Sugar Cinnamon slash Coke Zero fumes at the dog, who would in protest open it’s mouth and snap it shut over the invisible pungent odor surrounding it’s small stupid cranium.

And explain to me what  ‘festive pursuits’ means? This sounds like it  might put me in a Dr. Seuss inspired world.

Christopher McManus McBean De Voss

Often found himself at a loss

Which would make he proclaim,

“Gadzooks!”

Then decorate the town,

In his festive pursuits

Palooka is a dumb name for a magazine anyway.

While browsing my WordPress reader, I soon noticed just how many people that I associate with, either regularly or occasionally, have published books. (That sentence needs more commas. It’s like more cowbell, but for literary buffs. )

For example:

Carrie Ruben has a book that another friend of mine recommended that I read.  Imagine my friend’s surprise when I said, “Hey, guess what…I know Carrie!”  I looked really cool. Rodney Lacroix has two books and is in the process of writing six more…this week.

Marc Schuster has also written a couple of books either by himself or with other people, AND on top of that, he teaches other people how to write more better…I have not taken his course. It seems like my friends Maddie Cochere and Kayla Lords are always publishing something new.

I don’t read her, but apparently she is the quintessential name in blogging, The Bloggess has a book, and from the reviews it looks pretty funny…and might feature dead stuffed rodents. Don’t quote me on that, I’m just guessing from the cover. The Hook, who has written a book, recently featured this guy, Tom Lucas on his site. Guess what ol’ Tom did? Tom wrote a book.

(On a side note…Dear Mr. The Hook…For some reason my WordPress reader likes to unfollow you randomly…so if you were ever wondering why I follow and unfollow you a lot, it’s not me. Some one doesn’t want us to be together. WordPress Reader is being a dick.)

Ned Hickson is a real life journalist who happens to have a real life published book. Yay Ned!

Looking at my fellow Pausers; Jack is trying to get funding for his finished book on Kickstarter, and Justin Gawel revealed to me over lunch at Dick’s Last Resort that he is putting the finishing touches on his novella. Monk Monkey’s best friend, who shall remain nameless due to his request, also has several published books.

What is the point of this you ask? Why are you rambling about all that?

Just write a book already, you say?

I am, so get off my back.

I am announcing that I am currently in the process of putting the final touches on my brand new, multi-chapter….

Coloring Book!

Shut up! It still counts as a book.

Look for it on the Amazon Best Seller list soon.

It will probably be along the same lines as this one:

Grandma De Voss Finds Some Old Movie Posters

Grandma De Voss was up in her attic again, cleaning. The last time she sent me some books. This time she found some old movie posters from the around the 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s. I thought they might look good on the loft wall.

Thanks Grandma!

Not A Good Way To End The Year

Fiction

The cigarette hung from his fingers of bone inches over the glass table top.  The smoke wisped into where ever smoke wisps too, just kind of up and gone. The hooded figure attached to the cigarette was slumped over slightly. His attire consisted of nothing but a single robe which hung slackly over his skeletal frame. The robe was old and a colorless gray. A heavy sigh was heard from inside the deep black hole where a rosy face should have been.

“Ok,” said a voice out of the left most darken corner in the room. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

The hooded figure sighed again, “How many times are we going to go over this?”

“As many times as it takes for me to get a story I believe.”

The  hand holding the cigarette raised from the table and disappeared into the nothingness of the face hole. Smoke billowed out, looking like some starless part of the galaxy that was on fire.

The voice from the corner spoke again, “Start from the beginning.”

“Of course,” said the robe with a smile. You couldn’t see his smile, but you sure could hear the smile. It was a blood curdling smile. A smile that many, many, people saw as the last thing they ever saw. A smile that stopped the blood flowing in ones veins. “I was making my rounds…”

“On what date was this?”

“It was on December 12th, 12:38 am  to be precise. I was assigned a Mr. Robert Hupert as my next collection. Mr. Hupert lived in the suburbs in a single story house. Nice lawn, well taken care of…I remember that. Anyway, easy stuff. I entered through the south wall and landed in the kitchen. It was a small kitchen. I was surprised as to how small it was…I don’t know why…you know, just compared to what the outside of the house looked like. Anyway, I was thirsty so I helped myself to a glass of water from the built in water dispenser in the door of the refrigerator. As with just about everyone’s refrigerator  in the world, pictures of what I assumed where the Grand-kids hung with those cheap fruit shaped magnets. A little boy was featured in one photograph, and a little girl in the other. The rest of the photos had them both in it, playing, laughing, hugging…it could have been any house in the world really…”

The Robbed Hood paused.

“Go on,” prodded the corner.

“Right. So I had a job to do and about seven others on my list for that evening. I admit I was in a hurry, but I’m pretty good at what I do. I have been doing it forever…literally forever. ”

Hood sneezed and a spider shot out from the black hole of his face, hit the table on it’s side. It recovered awkwardly and quickly, and then scampered away.

“Sorry,” he said and wiped his hole with the back of his cigarette holding sleeve. “So I head into Hupert’s bedroom where I expect him to be sleeping with  one of those CPAP machines attached to his face. I see a lot of CPAP machines anymore.”

“We don’t need to know that stuff, just stick to the relevant facts.”

“Hupert wasn’t asleep. He was awake.”

“So?”

“He could see me,” said Hood. “He was looking right at me. I knew he could see me. His face was flush of color and he was shaking. He also pointed at me. His mouth was open and moving, but no sound was coming out. This is a look I’m only used to seeing when the collected are in their last seconds of life. I like to look into their eyes as the last bit of their soul leaves their bodies. The eyes lose their shine slowly, like a fading star until…pop…nothing. The eyes, after  they lose their soul mind you, remind me of rocks you find in a river bed; dull, lifeless, flatten, hard…but regardless…Hupert could definitely see me.

‘What do you want?’ Hupert asked me.

‘I’m here to collect you,’ I responded. ‘How can you see me?’

‘What do you mean?’ Hupert asked.

‘How can you see me?’ I asked again. ‘Normally you can’t see me until you are toting that fine line between this life and the next.’

‘I don’t understand what you just said, but why are you dressed like the Grim Reaper?’

‘Because,’ I said matter-of-factly, which is how I always talk. ‘I am the Grim Reaper.’

Hupert started to whimper, then he started to cry.

‘Why? Why me?’ he said.

It’s what they all say. If I had a nickel for every time I heard that question…

(I don’t know what I would do with it. I have no need for money. It would just be a big pile of nickels, I guess.)

‘Because, you have been ordered to be collected. I am never told why. I just collect.’

‘No, I’m way too young! I’m only 47! There has to be a mistake!’

If I had a quarter for every time I heard that this has to be a mistake…

(Again…just a big pile of wasted quarters.)

Hupert suddenly jumped out the window and ran down the street. I was stunned. That has never happened to me before. I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there for a moment. Then I headed back into the kitchen, got a beer and a slice of turkey from the fridge, and left.”

“You just left?” asked the corner in shock.

“Yeah,” replied the Reaper. “I just left.”

Some papers rustled from the darken unseen corner. “Do you know in the billion years we have been doing this, we have never had someone scheduled for collection just run away?! Not one! We have always collected! Our record, until now, has been 100% collected! What the hell where you thinking?!”

The Reaper sighed.

“I wasn’t,” he replied. “I was still in shock… he could see me.”

“Some special people can see you, like Mediums, Clairvoyants, Bakers, Priests…”

“Bakers?”

“I don’t know why, but yes, bakers,” boomed the corner as more papers were shuffled. “You’re fired.”

The Grim Reaper didn’t say anything. He had never been fired before, but of course this had been his one and only job ever.

“What about the quota?” asked the Grim Reaper.

The man from the darken corner stepped out of the shadows. He was wearing a white robe and had a long beard. In one hand he held a stack of official looking papers, in the other he stroked his beard. “We will just have to have a run on of ‘natural disasters’, the Midwest is due for a tornado, Japan needs another tsunami soon anyway. We will figure it out until we hire a suitable replacement. Not your concern.”

“Just don’t get Eligos. I hate that guy.”

“Not your concern.”

The Grim Reaper got up and grabbed his sickle…

“Leave the sickle,” said the Other.

The Grim Reaper got up, leaving his sickle, and walked out the door. Maybe he would go visit the tropics for awhile, have a vacation before deciding what to do with the rest of his eternity…maybe he would check out that restaurant on the fourth level of Hell that’s been getting all the rave reviews…

Maybe he would just seek out Hupert and kill him.

Do the job right.

Get his position back.

Maybe he would buy a puppy instead.

So many possibilities…

The Grim Reaper sighed to himself.

To be continued?

The Other Me Is A Fashion Designer

When you are trying to take over the internet, it’s not narcissistic to use Google Alerts.

It’s not.

Ok, it is a little…but it’s a great tool to find out where you land in the search engines, if anyone is interested in the product you’re putting out, and helps to capture who your audience is outside of the WordPress community.

I use Google Alerts to track this nonsense, as well as (and more importantly) my sister project: Long Awkward Pause.

If you are not familiar with Google Alerts, it emails you when certain words that you ask it to track are typed into the Google search engine. The other day, this pops into my email:

There are a couple of things that make this even more funny and coincidental then it already is…probably only to me…but I’m going to share anyway:

– There are a lot of people with the last name of DeVos, with the one ‘S’, not a lot with the two ‘SS’ ‘s, (that’s a lot of processor apostrophes) like mine. So the fact that there is another name exactly like mine is incredible. It would be like if there where two people named Hippo Bandersnatch in the world.

– If you go to Long Awkward Pause and look at the writers list, you will notice my brother, Jack, is also on the staff. If you really pay attention, you will notice he is billed as Jack DeVoss, while I’m billed as Christopher De Voss. (With a space between the De and the Voss) There is no space in Jack’s last name. That’s because he spells it correctly, and I do not. Why have I chosen to add a space? When I was younger, and trying to be a famous actor, I thought it looked cool. That’s all, just the coolness factor. (which there is none…(and I’m not famous, but kind of stuck with it now. (this is just to add another parenthese)))

– Target is my favorite store.

Now going back to the article that the Google Alert, altered me to; this I think, is supposed to be a picture of the Target fashion designers: Peter Pilotto and Christopher De Voss:

The article didn’t credit who is who…

One looks like a shorter version of the lead singer of Coldplay and the other looks like any lead German-born bad guy in an action movie such as Die Hard. (Die Hard 12, Die Hard With A Fashion!)

Here are some examples of their die hard fashion designs:

It all looks like something Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas would wear.

In case you are not familiar with the reference:

Sally

I think if any of my friends would say that if I designed fashion for women, it would look something like this:

Not true!

I would actually design something more in the lines of this:

Although, I would probably sneak something like this into my fashion line:

I will use this same name thing to try to score free clothes from Target:

“You don’t know who I am?! I designed this plaid button down shirt! I’m fashion designer, Christopher De Voss! Now put these clothes I have in my basket here on Target’s tab! I’m headed to the food court!”

The Gift Of The Scratchi

Once upon a time, in a little village, just south southwest of Santa’s Workshop, in the North Pole, there lived an older couple. This couple was each on their third marriage, although that doesn’t have anything to do with anything…I’m just making conversation. Now the couple didn’t have much money. The husband had started a potato washing business that wasn’t as profitable as it was expected to be, and the wife hadn’t been to work since she was diagnosed with elephantiasis in her left leg. Needless to say, Christmas was around the corner and the couple had no money to buy each other presents.

The husband thought, “Well it’s Christmas…I have to get my wife something!”

So he decided to rummage through the couch cushions and look for loose coins. He looked and looked and looked, and finally found 22 pennies, 3 nickels, one of them minted in the year 1978…which really didn’t have anything to do with anything…just making an observation…2 dimes, and 2 quarters for a grand total of $1.07.  The husband looked at the coins in his hand and sighed. What could he possibly buy with this? A pack of gum? A toothbrush?

Meanwhile in another part of the house, the wife was looking under their bedroom mattress. All year she would stash a dollar here and a dollar there as a little nest egg for Christmas. The problem was that all year she would also borrow a dollar here and a dollar there with the intention of paying it back, yet she never would. Currently all that resided in the mattress Christmas nest was one dollar.  A single tear rolled down her cheek as she got a paper cut on the tip of her finger from grabbing that one little dollar bill.

“What can I do with this?” thought the wife. “Buy a pack of playing cards? A plastic kazoo? A band aid?”

Both the husband and the wife both felt a little dejected, a little depressed, and a little tipsy because both of them were drunks…nothing to do with this particular story, just throwing it out there for discussion.

The husband grabbed his coat and called to his wife that he was going for a walk.

“OK!” she called back. There was little chance she would join him due to her left leg being the size of a VW Bus thanks to the elephantiasis, so the husband had a few moments to himself to think.

So he did.

He thought and he walked, and walked and thought, until he stopped in front of a convenience store. He stood there for a moment as his breath billowed in front of his face from the cold brisk air. He could see the worry lines on his forehead mirrored in the window of the store. He could also see the beer case, because as explained earlier, he was a raging drunk. And lastly he could see the counter where the lottery tickets were advertised. In his pocket, his hand clasped on the coins and he headed into the store.

Come that Christmas morn as the husband and the wife gathered in front of their Christmas tree which made Charlie Brown’s look like a lush Evergreen, he took her hand, and patted her enormous leg and whispered,

“I love you. Merry Christmas.”

He pulled out the  scratch off lottery ticket he bought with the change and handed it to her. He also handed her one of the left over pennies that he didn’t spend. This was so she could rub off that mystery silver cover that hides the winning numbers from the naked eye.

She smiled, and rub the penny back and forth over the ticket, slowly and with determination, all the while biting her lower lip. She turned the ticket to her husband when she was done, and said,

“We won.”

“What?” asked the husband gasping for breath. “Really?”

“Yes,” she said with the biggest grin. “We won a free lottery ticket.”

“Merry Christmas,” said the husband.

Merry Christmas,” replied his wife and slipped the dollar she had found into his pants pocket.

This doesn’t really pertain to the story, but later they got snockered on eggnog…you know…just throwing it out there…for conversations sake…

Merry Christmas to all.

When You’re Sick Of Holiday Movies…

Have you had your fill of Rankin and Bass’ stop motion holiday classic; Rudolph the Frosty Grinch?

How many times have you watched It’s A Wonderful Miracle on 34th Griswald Lane?

Can’t stomach another viewing of “You’ll Shoot Your Eye Out Charlie Brown!”?

Well, I’m here to help. Here is a list of slightly non-Christmas-y that you can watch with the whole family.

(Warning: Don’t watch any of these with the whole family.)

Rubber

 Rubber is the charming story of Robert, an abondoned tire that has been left in the desert and then suddenly and inexplicably comes to life. As Robert  rolls around, he soon discovers that he possesses terrifying telepathic powers that give him the ability to destroy anything he wishes.

`

Zombie Ass: Toilet Of The Dead

 Megumi wrestles with the guilt of her bullied sister’s suicide while joining her friends on a journey deep into the woods, where they encounter the nefarious Dr. Tanaka, who conducts gruesome experiments on the living dead. Later, as Dr. Tanaka attempts to make Megumi and friends his latest test subjects, the desperate young woman uses the dual power of karate and flatulence in order to defeat her demented captor.

Nude Nuns With Big Guns

 Sister Sarah is abused, brainwashed and drugged into submission by a corrupt clergy who is in the business of selling drugs. On the verge of death, Sister Sarah receives a message from GOD telling her to take vengeance on all those who did her wrong. Armed with God’s will and an arsenal of big guns and little clothing, she seeks revenge on her former tormentors.

Grabbers

Strange doings are afoot on a small Irish island: the crew of a fishing boat disappears, whales start appearing dead on the shore, a local lobster-man catches a strange tentacled creature in his trap. Soon residents learn they must get very drunk to survive attacks by alien monsters who can’t tolerate a high blood alcohol level in their victims.

(Remember: I didn’t say any of these were good.)