Sunday, October 28, 2012

ShapeShifter Seductions ~ Halloween Wars in Talbot's Peak


Halloween Wars

“Reinforced steel pipes, heavy duty rubber tubing, a gross of nuts, bolts, S-hooks and a short Red Riding Hood costume with crotchless panties.”  Glenn set down the scanner and looked up at an impatient Nick and his blushing brother Mooney.  “Ah Nick, does Ziva know about all of this stuff?”

“Oh Lupa no!  And she better not hear anything either…”  Nick raised an eyebr don’t pout.”  

Nick threw money on the counter to pay for his treasures and looked towards his brother.  “Now grab some stuff and let’s get it over to the grill.”

“How do we know they’ll even be there?”

“Moon, its Halloween and they just harvested all that unsatisfying and repulsive roughage.  They’ll be serving it to the Herbies…and so will we!”   


“It’s bad enough Mom felt she had to take off with that meat-eating lupine, but did she have to do it around the harvest?”

“Stop bitching, Bo and start making the pumpkin flapjacks.”Hannibal shoved him; hand over face, back into the kitchen.  “The crowds are getting restless.”

“Suck it, Peewee Hornman.”  Bo knew insulting his brother’s smaller horns was a bad idea, but he didn’t care.  This whole hitching and bolting action of his mother’s really put a crimp in their lives.  Now they were all doing double duty at their jobs and the restaurant.  He was cooking, which he hated.  Mary served, which really didn’t work well and Hannibal was the general ‘pain-in-the-ass’ manager.  Odds were damn good the Bighorn Diner would be run into the ground before she got back.


Bo ran from the fuming Bighorn sheep now occupying his brother’s space next to the griddle.  Hannibal never could maintain his composure or shape when challenged.  Ten minutes later, the kitchen was wrecked, batter flung everywhere and Bo still couldn’t feel his hands or arms after using the cast iron frying pan on Hannibal’s head.

“Like I was trying to tell you, lug nut, we’re out of pumpkins.”

“Not possible, Bo,” Hannibal grumbled, holding his head with both hands. “We harvested over an acre of those damn things and they were pretty tightly packed.”

“Well they’ve sprouted legs and run away, because they are not here…”


General chaos erupted in the seating area out front.  Women screamed, children cried and the men swore. 

“Roasted buck nuts, what was that!”

Bo didn’t have time to answer his brother as he was already trying to decipher Mary’s frantic signing.  “Slow down, sis,” he both spoke and signed.  “Lick moon pump across…honestly, Mar, slow…”

“Fricken sex-fiend and his idiot monkey lovin’ brother are chuckin’ pumpkins at us from across the street!”  Hannibal bleated, his control appearing to be at an all time low.

“Ah, Nick and Mooney are tossing pump…wait, pumpkins?”  Bo ran to the window just in time to see another orange projectile hit the sidewalk in front of the flapjackery.  “Hell, those are our pumpkins!  How’d they get our stash?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.”  Hannibal blew through the dining room, tossing tables and chairs out of his way.  

“Get your ass over here and help us.”

Mary was on her knees pulling blood red hunks of flesh from the bottom of the cooler and putting them in a massive mixing bowl while Hannibal pulled funny looking weapons from the closet.  “Okay, now.  Yuk.”  He pointed at Mary’s heart attack in a bowl.  “And, what the blazes are you doing your ranger guns in the closet?  Those kill, man.”

“When’d you turn into such a little girl, Bo?”  Hannibal pushed past him and headed back to the window and door with Mary following close behind, dripping blood across the floor.  “This here is a bleacher reacher and the beaut currently being loaded by our tough as nails sister is the T-shirt Gatling gun.  These babies will beat that stupid looking slingshot the desk humper has.”

“Whoya…eat it, Herbies!”  Taunts and chuckles came at them from across the street as did more fruit.

“What the hell is wrong with those two?”  Not like he needed to ask.  After all, this was the McMahon brothers, a prankster pair at home with gross destruction of property.

Another pumpkin found its way to the sidewalk, splattering in front of the open door and flying in all directions.  Some landed on Bo’s shoes; a glop ended up in Mary’s hair and a large section veered off and flew through Java Joe’s plate glass next door.

“Damn it, Nick, not there.  Marissa’s gonna kill me or worse douse me with mange again…gah!”

“Man up, Moon.”

Bo swallowed back a yelp of hysterical laughter and put his hand out.  “Someone give me a gun.”

“’Bout time, brother.”  Hannibal jumped up and slapped him on the back.  “Here, you take the cannon while I get me a little Gat action.”

Gourds of all sizes pummeled their side of the street even as raw meat flew back.  The mess was atrocious, but the combatants were beyond caring.  There could be only one winner in this family war and Bo would be damned if it was those stinky wolves.


“Fire in the hole!”

“That’s it, Moonster, let it fly…wooo!”

Mooney had to admit, manning up or regressing down, sure felt good.  Marissa was going to have his balls for defacing Java Joe’s, but who knew, maybe he could sweet talk his way out of the mange.  Right now though he was going to enjoy chuckin’ pumpkins.

“Told ya you’d love this.”  Nick was grinning ear to ear, but why not.  This was burned into his alpha nature.  Besides, he had the money and pull to get him out of anything.

“Yep, you did.  Load me up.”

“What in the name of the great Lupa is going on here!”  “My restaurant!”

“Scat…oh scat,” Mooney whined, letting go of the rubber tubing.  He watched the last pumpkin hurl its way into the street only to explode all over his new stepmother.  “Pops is gonna rip our guts out with his teeth.”    

“Nope, only yours.”

Mooney heard the feminine scream, then panic set in as he watched his dad shift to wolf.  “Why only mine, wood whisperer?”

“’Cause I run faster!”

Nick changed and bolted before he even had a chance to think of becoming wolf.  The last thing he saw with his human eyes was a Bighorn sheep mama chasing three hard-headed kids into the destroyed eatery behind them and a pissed off dad snapping big assed teeth towards his tail.  Time to tuck and run.


Have a Pumpkin Chuckin' Happy Halloween!


Friday, October 12, 2012

Inspiration -

Music is my biggest inspiration. It's not often the lyrics, but the over all tone of the song or the artist's voice. I tend to lean toward a raspy sound. However, way back when it wasn't the case. Barry Manilow was my biggest inspiration. I'd put a cassette in my tape player, earphones in my ears and sit for hours writing as fast as the words came to me. In later years, I'd switch to Michael Bolton to refine scenes that required a depth into a scene where I not only reached into the character and pulled them into reality, but let Michael's music pull what was needed from myself - if that makes sense.

Inspiration, I think, can change gradually, but stay the same or become something completely different. It all depends what we're open to and if we recognize it. A few years ago, Bonnie Tyler struck a chord and I found her sensuality changing my writing. While I was writing primarily women's lit with the bedroom door open, I suddenly found myself going further into the erotic genre. Funny how it took a woman to bring it out.

Another thing that inspires me are facial expressions, especially the eyes and mouths. Lively eyes and smiles say so much about a person that when I get past the knee buckling sight I store it. The person who I think is the most expressive person around is Melissa Etheridge. I've watched videos of her from 1988 to the present.

This video of Melissa is from her 2001 Alive & Alone show, but it covers the gammit of what I love. The song is one I've always loved.

Inspiration comes from every part of our lives, but for me, music feeds the need to write.