I Preferred the Quarantine

LOBO -Predator Press

"Can you sign it, 'To LOBO, the greatest athlete on Earth.  He taught me everything I know, and is the Gofather of my children'?"

"This is a baseball," Tom Brady points out.

"A Bedazzled baseball," I correct.

I, Robot. Robot Robot

LOBO -Predator Press

"Would you please stop doing 'The Robot'?" asks Wendy.

"Couldn't even wait for my breakdance finale?" I frustratedly sigh, gathering up the cardboard.  "I don't think we are right for each other."

Part I: A Leave of Abstenance

LOBO -Predator Press

[*wrrrrrr*]

I got bored so fast, I daydreamed about smashing the thing.

"We need to meet corporate blah, blah, before corporate blah blah ..."

[*wrrrrrrr*]

-Fucker has a USB charged self-stirring coffee cup.

Now that you are all caught up, I never liked this man.

And all that follows is inadmissible in court:

***

"His body parts were EVERYWHERE" I told the cops ... "Ihe blood splashed all over my hands!" 

"Are you black?" he asks.

"No," I says.  "I don't think so."

"Can you help us identify a suspect?"  he replied, putting his gun away.

"Let me look around and touch everything."

I searched everything, ...SO many shovels, and goddamn those knives were sharp.

"There are a lot of items with bloody fingerprints in here."  I conclude.

"Indeed," the cops replied, scratching their chins.  "Ma'am ..."

"Wendy," she replies.

"You witnessed it all?

"No.  I was trying to get blood and teeth out of LOBO's hair at the time."

"So you are his alibi?"

"No.  I was trying to get blood and teeth out of his hair at the time."

"Was he ever black?"

"Like the Metallica Album?"

The cops put their notebooks away.  "We don't need sarcasm, miss."

"I would argue you do," I yell from the back seat.

"LOBO probably killed him," Wendy shrugged.

"Ha!" I says, gnawing at my handcuffs.  "Probably!  This is a wrongful arrest when you consider all the reasonable doubt!"

"That is horrible for your teeth," the cops explain.  "Are you black?"

"I don't think so" I says.

As the cops release my handcuffs, they add "There is no excuse for shoddy dental care."

"See?"  Wendy demands.

"This is no time for facts," I says.  "We have a crime to solve."

Wed Redding

LOBO -Predator Press

"Look" I says.  "Divorce is extremely likely.  People have been marrying for hundreds of years, and Humanity still hasn't cracked the code."

I grab her hands.  "I promise you.  If science ever figures out why people get married, I will get good at science."

Don't. Don't You Want me.

LOBO -Predator Press

One Could Hope

LOBO -Predator Press

Happily Ever Aftershocks

LOBO -Predator Press

So ya, I guess I owe it to the millions and millions of readers who are always asking me evey day "What ever happened to LOBO?"

And to a lesser degree, "... and Wendy?"

Wendy and I had an amazing Christmas ... dancing in the cool moonlight listening to Tychovski, and admiring the beauty of fresh snow under bright stars. But sometime around 7:15am, relatives showed up and gave us Covid.

So we had a solid 3-4 hours of joy and cheer, but all the new January and February murders got bumped down the schedule: frozen ground is too hard to dig inconspicuous shallow graves in. And due to the spike in demand, many of these holiday murders will have to be pushed back until April ... possibly even May!

[*sigh*] I know. Same as last year.

Our New Year's Resolution is to get more cardio.

Malibu

LOBO -Predator Press

Pocket Full of Posies

LOBO -Predator Press

Just started my first vacation in a decade, and OMG I am soooo bored.

Expect some short stories.

:)

Emperor Erroneous

LOBO -Predator Press

"Well congratulations," says says Gina, looking up from her newspaper.

The idea of a Google employee reading a newspaper always cracks me up.

"For what?"  In a bathrobe, I'm just trying to get an iced coffee.

"Wendy told us you proposed to her."

Goddamit I need to get my own refrigerator upstairs.

Wincing and scratching my eyebrow, I reply "We had a conversation about getting married.  It was purely academic I thought."

I've been awake eight seconds, and I'm already in a death roll.

"We were all surprised too," she shrugged.

"I hate marriage," I explain, holding my head.  "I give up my job, friends, family, home, pets, car, sex, and all worldly possessions that don't fit in a backpack."  I surmise.  "And there is way too much yelling."

"You're exaggerating" she says.  "You've been dating her for, like, five years.  She definitely loves you."

"Wendy is the first person I've dated since the divorce," I admit.  "Do I want her to turn into a vile screaming jealous lying hypocrite adulterous racist psycho-shrew proliferating computer malware already?  No.  I think we are doing just fine as we are."

I twist the coffee cap off with a satisfying "pop" sound.

"I actually kinda like her," I elaborate.  "Why rush it?"

MAMBA

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Millions and millions of readers are always asking me every day, "LOBO, where are you at with current day politics?"

I have founded the "Make America More Boring Again" party, aka MAMBA.

We promise to do absolutely nothing. All you need is footie pajamas.

Nancy Pelosi tucks us in after milk and cookies.

Quiet

LOBO -Predator Press

I've told so many crazy stories about how I blew up my shoulder two months ago, the boring truth will likely be lost to history.

"I was playing for the 49ers."

"The Kama Sutra doesn't come with warning labels!"

"The MMA put me in the wrong weight class," or

"An old friend bet me I couldn't stick a one-and-a-half somersault with a half twist from a janky Craig's List pommel horse."

-Then, with a straight face, I conclude with "I can't talk about it per the settlement agreement."

But this got me thinking about Predator Press again.  Here we both are at the end of the world.

The problem with writing Predator Press is that it isn't a memoir. Yuck.  I can't think of anything more pretentious and boring than some douchebag's memoir, let alone mine.  But framed as quasi-fictional humor, all the names, dates, locations and scenarios have been changed to protect the guilty to such an extent, even I am having issues tracking this, er, "story."

So I'm going to try and rewind a little bit.  The early parts of the past decade were admittedly pretty shitty, and, a pisspoor humorist, I stayed trying to be funny.  On a Cosmic scale, I think that was what I was born to do.  But while I obfuscated myself so no one had to see the ongoing relentless shitshow, life slowly and incrementally got better.

And I wouldn't tackle such a project it unless it had a happy ending -well, as happy an ending as 2020 will allow.

Welcome to History.

Internet Swag

LOBO -Predator Press

All That Sweet Library Money

LOBO -Predator Press

As I throw the switch, I explain "It's time to put on your put on your protective goggles and safety chapstick."

The turbines whine to life.

"So this is how you spend your free time?"

"What?" I says. "I can't hear you."

She leans her mouth to my ear: "SO THIS IS HOW YOU SPEND YOUR FREE TIME?"

It is at this moment I simultateously realize women are imposible to understand, and her hair looks amazing.

"I had my bedroom fans replaced with P-51 Mustang plane engines so it would seem more comfortable and peaceful," I confess. "Those Messerschmitt engines made everything smell like gasoline."