Tuesday

Predator Press Interviews: Satan

Predator Press
One may think that finding the Devil would be fraught with challenges.  But I found him where everyone else does: on TruTV -right smack in the middle of an episode of ‘Operation Repo.’

LOBO: You’re not foolin anybody Beelzebub. No television show this bad stays on the air without your direct influence.

Satan: Okay. You got me. I’ve been pretty bored since Tim Allen retired.

LOBO: I must say -in regard to the music industry- I’m a huge fan of your work.

Satan: Thank you.

LOBO: Do you really make deals with people for their souls? I mean, like, you could get my band famous?

Satan: You mean 'Vaginal Slide?'

LOBO:  Hypothetically of course.

Satan: LOBO I would love to help -but there are just some things that even evil can’t do.

LOBO: Really?

Satan: The triangle player is in an asylum. The entire didgeridoo ensemble hasn’t been heard from since they crossed the Mexican border in 2006. Oh, and the tuba player is dead.

LOBO: You pick now to have a problem with zombies?  That tuba player was a prima donna anyway. And yeah, those didgeridoo guys hadd some pretty good chemistry, but that triangle player was a talentless hack. Who plays triangle for Van Halen? Maybe we could audition him.

Satan: LOBO even I am not so evil as to make you a superstar. How about a Wii instead?

LOBO: How many controllers are we talking about? Hypothetically.

Satan: One.

LOBO: One? Really? I think I should get four controllers.

Satan: See, I don’t know. Four? With the economy like it is? And let’s face it: yours isn’t the soul of, say, a Mother Theresa. Heck …. Mother Theresa had WAY more potential of getting that rock star deal than you do.

LOBO: Well I don’t know what people have against evil frankly. I mean what has evil ever done to them?

Satan: LOBO, I’ll give you two controllers, but the second is only because I like you.

LOBO: Do you have a pen?

Satan: You have to sign these contracts in blood.

LOBO: That seems rather barbaric -and unsanitary. How do we do it without getting your squirty blood everywhere? And when is the last time you were tested for HIV-?

Satan: No. I mean your blood.

LOBO: My blood? Hah! Fuck all that.  I'm not into that whole 'pain' and 'suffering' thing.

Satan: It only hurts for a second. LOBO, I’m the devil. I wouldn’t lie to you. I don’t need to lie to you -I could incinerate you into rumor at the simple whim.

LOBO: Well lah-de-dah. Maybe I don’t want to work for you at all then. I would require an Incineration-Free clause, weekends off, numerous paid vacations, and a hip-looking posse that refers to me as ’Dog.’ And four Wii controllers.

Satan: Two.

LOBO: How about if I throw in occasional weekend work?

Satan: LOBO, Wii controllers cost $20 apiece even at Walmart. Two controllers. Period.

LOBO: Well how about if you sweeten the pot on my end? Let’s say maybe I never have acne again. Or I can fly.

Satan: I can’t make you fly because that would be too obvious. And the reason you have acne because God is punishing you for all that masturbation.

LOBO: Let’s talk about this some other time then. ‘Operation Repo’ is almost over.

Satan: Really? Tanya Harding is coming on! Hubba-hubba.

Monday

Predator Press Unveils ‘LieMaster’ Just in Time for Belated Christmas Gift Rush

Predator Press

[LOBO]

-Just put this between your lips, and tell a good solid with every contraction:

  • “But honey -if I go to church with you guys, how will the lawn get done?”

[rep]

  • “I tried to do the lawn. But there was a … fire!”

[rep]

  • “Our insurance already replaced everything with exact replicas.”

[rep]

  • “Heck yeah that’s a miracle. It’s a good thing I was here instead of church ... you know, handling the crisis. Maybe Jesus is trying to tell me I should stay home on Sundays. I mean why else would that be when all the good NFL games are on?”

[rep]

  • “I know football season is over. But the Vikings are looking for a new QB. I should stay by the phone in case I am needed.”

[rep]

  • "Two words: Brett Favre."

[rep]

  • “Lawns shouldn’t look too manicured you know. A distressed and weathered look is very chic nowadays.”

[rep]

  • “I’m sure the birdbath is still out there. Somewhere. Look, I was right about the shed. Why wouldn‘t I be right about the birdbath?”

[rep]

  • “I don't have to sit here and listen to all this accusation and innuendo.  Just look how clean all those damn birds are.”

[rep]

  • “I know where we could borrow some hungry cows and giraffes.”

[rep]

  • “Seriously. The landlord recommended I tear out the lawn and replace it with green linoleum. That way I can efficiently hose off all my used lottery tickets in, like, 5 minutes.”

[rep]

  • “There might be an endangered species in there. Do you want Mother Nature‘s blood on your hands? Do you?”

*Warning: LieMaster cause unwanted nose growth.
If ingested, induce vomiting immediately.


Wednesday

After Kicking the Shit out of Four Navy Seals at a Bar in Tucson, I am being Tried for Multiple Counts of Murder

Predator Press

[LOBO]

What? You fell for that title?

Really?

Well Ha-ha. O Holy crap -if you knew what I looked like, the Navy Seals would beat your ass! LOL. Shit. I don't know where the country 'Tucson' even is.

Yeah, it's been months since I've written. Or pissed off an entire branch of the US military.  Whatever.  Who knew you millions of people were so codependant?

The truth is there hasn't been much going on ... the Earth has been a bit boring really; there's finally peace in the Middle East, and I got this nifty paddle-ball game.  But while the rubber ball and the string were broken off and lost long ago, the paddle still remains as a deadly mortal threat: what if some weirdo finds it and tries to use it to make my eyes collide?

Holy shit -it was made in China!

In the hands of a true ninja, .05 of an ounce of balsa can be considerably deadly.  And you can bet your ass I, LOBO, will be back as soon as I can get this paddleball situation mitigated and the heat is off from the Goddless Yellow Hoard.

But where the fuck are your hoity-toity Navy Seals on this?

Hm?

Sunday

Bringing the Giant Down

Predator Press

Nurse Garrison pulls the curtain back with a well-practiced snap, and in my mind’s eye I can clearly see her, clipboard in hand, taking her seat. Doctor Nyarlathotep’s unmistakable tall, thin frame is silhouetted in full view.

“Why are you still in your leisure suit?” says Nurse Garrison with clearly insincere cheer. “We need you to put on the hospital gown as requested.”

“I’m sorry miss,” the man replies. “If I were anything other than polyester, I break out in hives.”

Nurse Garrison audibly scrawls on her clipboard. “What seems to be the problem?”

“Well,” the man pauses, choosing his words. “You know how those Viagra commercials tell you to seek medical attention if you have an erection for more than four hours?”

“Ah,“ says Doctor Nyrlathotep in a thick accent. “When did your erection start?”

“October.”

“Really?”

“October 1991, actually.”

-I hear Nurse Garrison’s pencil tumbling on the linoleum.

“Why would you wait all this time to seek medical help?” asks the doctor.

“Because of my occupation.”

Nurse Garrison flips some pages. “It says here you are a … cruise ship captain?”

“It’s kind of a long story. You know those cruises for single senior citizens?”

“Like Seniors Meet?“ Nurse Garrison offered.

“Precisely,” the man confirmed. “I snuck aboard one -the Sea Nile to be exact- in an effort to find love and happiness.”

“Love and happiness?” says Nurse Garrison. “It says here you’re only in your forties.”

“Yep. I would seek out the most unhealthy and oldest women possible. Triple bypasses, cancer, whatever. Then I would wine them and dine them until properly seduced. Then I would have the ship captain marry us.” I could see the shadow of his hands folding behind his head. “Once geezed up on booze, cocaine, meth, and wild freaky sex, they rarely survived the honeymoon.”

“And you would inherit their fortunes,” Nurse Garrison finished.

“That’s disgusting,” remarked the doctor.

“Well the captain apparently thought so too,” the man continued. “And during the subsequent investigation he found out I was a stowaway.”

Nurse Garrison snorted. “So you were thrown in the brig I would hope.”

“Nah. Seniors -somewhat skittish by nature- tend to be touchy about security issues. The crew of the Sea Nile found the whole situation embarrassing. I was forced to work in the galley to earn my fare until we reached the next port, where I would presumably face charges.”

The doctor seemed incredulous. “So what happened then?”

“Damndest thing,” the man replied. “The whole crew came down with food poisoning.”

“Really,” Nurse Garrison breathed. “I wonder how that happened.”

“Me too. Oddly, as in naval tradition, when a captain is knocked out of commission he is replaced by the first mate. And if the first mate is knocked out …”

“Yes,” Doctor Nyarlathotep nodded. “The succession of command at sea.”

“Well at some point, as the last official member of the crew not afflicted, eventually that succession came all the way down to me.”

I could see the shadow of Doctor Nyarlathotep’s head shaking. “So as the only unpoisoned member of the crew, you became captain.”

“Well, acting captain I suppose. But I did get me one of those cool hats.”

“You were never caught?”

“I assigned a passenger task force of little old ladies to solve the crimes, but they all turned up dead.”

“What did they die of?” the nurse asked.

“Booze, cocaine, meth, and wild freaky sex. It was all very mysterious. My First Mate -Noodlecakes- was concerned-

"Noodlecakes?"

"He is a Yorkshire Terrier, I think.  But anyway, Noodlecakes was concerned the seniors might mutiny.  We decided to, uh, distract them somehow.”

Sensing an uncomfortable pause, the doctor prompted the man. “What did you do then?”

“I started marrying the passengers to each other. Randomly at first, then alphabetically. Soon I had the system pretty refined based on size, race, religion …”

“Oh my God,” Nurse Garrison moaned.

“But it was going really smoothly,” the man insisted. “Except when the already married couples were married to other people. They kept going back to their original spouses! I don’t run a ship of debauched sinners, and have a very strict policy when it comes to adultery on my watch.”

Doctor Nyarlathotep, rubbing his temples, turned to Nurse Garrison and articulated exactly what I was thinking.

“Doesn’t this all sound strangely familiar?”

I could resist no longer. Leaping up from my own hospital bed, I threw the curtain wide on the startled three that I may lay eyes on this singular man, this patient who could be no other than-

“Dad!” I cried.