Predator Press and the Dust Bunnies of Doom

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Sorry it's been so long since I've posted.

-It's hard to blog from under the bed.

"What are you doing?" says LadyTerri.

"Shhh!" I says. "Or HE will hear."

"Who will hear?"

"The Sinister Semicolon! The Executioner of Exclamations! The Apoplectic Apostrophe!"

"Who?"

"The Ominous Comma has declared me his nemesis!"

LadyTerri sighs. "You haven't been to work in days."

"Of course not. Sudden and horrible death stalks me at every turn!" Peering out at her ankles, I explain. "That's how it works. First you learn to trust Spellcheck. And then it's all lies upon lies."

"Don't you think you're exaggerating?"

"The evidence is overwhelming," I says.

"Really?"

"Yes," I exclaim, struggling to turn over under the box spring. "Remember how the toast burned Friday morning?"

"Yeah," she says.

"Brent," I reply. "And you know how the DVR cutoff the last 15 minutes of American Chopper?"

"Yes-"

"That was Brent too. And what about the neighbor's garden gnomes?"

"That was you. It's in the police report."

"Oh sure. Take his side!" I accuse. "Is that any way to treat the man who found the remote control and your missing tennis shoe?"

"Look," she says. "If you come out, I'll make you some new toast-"

"How dare you use a comma in this house!? Just listen to you. Your dialogues are absolutely littered with punctuation!"

"How did you get the monitor under there?"

"I slid it behind the headboard."