Predator Press Revealed!

Predator Press

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Yes, 'o loyal reader!

As promised, today is the day I dispel this 'shroud of mystery' by releasing high-resolution pictures of the entire Predator Press staff!



Phoebe:



Sapphire:



Ethan:



Mr Insanity:

And 'Yours Truly':

Chinese

Predator Press

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So where the heck is FEMA already?

Phil and I are alone in Mr Insanity's place, surrounded by millions of deadly, carnivorous, man-eating cicadas!

Sapphire abandoned us after a speech about "Needing to save humankind from certain destruction," or something. Ah, you know chicks ... 'blah, blah, blah blablah, blah'. I wasn't paying attention.

But while exploring my rather posh tomb, I found Mr Insanity's digital scanner. And since I'm not under adult supervision --as mandated by Illinois State Law I might add-- I've decided to publish pictures of the entire Predator Press staff tomorrow, myself included.

How dare these people flout Illinois State Law?

But that’s tomorrow. Right now I'm starving, and the jerk delivering my Chinese is 45 minutes late.

I think the cicadas got him.

That means in another 15 minutes, they are going to be pissed.

On Mom's Fridge (Magnetized for Your Protection)

Predator Press

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Pontius Pirate

Predator Press

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I watched Sapphire crunch through the pile of skeletons as she made her way from the car to the front door. While the carnivorous cicadas eyed her warily, they appeared disinterested in dining on the advanced synthetic plastics and alloys she was constructed from.

To them, she's the human equivalent of tofu.

Half of the entire town has been wiped out. Their skeletons, scattered and twisted in agonized poses, were baking dry in the noonday sun.

It's the biblical Plague of Locusts.

Armageddon.

--Jerry Falwell must've told Jesus about Sanjaya.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Who is it?" I ask.

"It's me, dumbass," says Sapphire.

"How do I know it's really you, and not some particularly intelligent cicada?"

"Open this goddamn door," demands the voice, "or I'll pull your tongue through your keyster!"

"It is you!" I says, letting her in quickly. "Thank God you came."

"What happened here? Why are there so many bodies in the lawn?"

I point at a group of skeletons sprinkled with gardening tools. "Well, in chronological order, those guys are gardeners. Those guys are the Fire Department, who I called to rescue the gardeners. Those guys are the cops I called to rescue the Fire Department. And that's what's left of the pizza delivery guy."

"Why did you call the pizza delivery guy?"

"I was hungry."

The Great Al Fresco

Predator Press

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I was rudely awakened by a knock at Mr Insanity's door.

Who in the hell would be knocking at this hour?

I yawned and stretched, "I'm coming!"

Wincing in the bright light, and see a man with tough-looking pitted tanned skin. He's carrying a shovel over his shoulder. His eyes, bright and intelligent, belie his apparent advanced age, and his smile reveals overly-large, bright white teeth.

"My God man!" I complain in the sun. "Have you any idea what time it is?"

"10:30 in the morning," says the man.

"Well, try and show a little courtesy," I says reproaching. "Some people are still trying to sleep at this hour!"

"My apologies," says the man, still grinning. He removes his faded, beaten hat. "My name is Al Fresco, and I am the finest gardener in Illinois."

I pause. "Really?"

"Yes sir," he says. "I was just trying to scrounge up some work, and I saw your yard in somewhat of an advanced state of-"

"Hold it right there buddy," I says. "This is Mr Insanity's yard. Don't go blaming me for his laziness."

"Of course sir," he says.

"How much do you charge?"

"I will do the preliminary work for $100, and then I will come back every week to do maintenance for another $20."

"Deal," I says.

"Can I start now?"

"Absolutely," I says.

This is really cool, I'm thinking. If this works out, I can go back to sleep.


***

Deciding to take a few moments to evaluate the man's work ethic, Phil and I sat watching out the living room window as Al Fresco prepared. After retrieving his various tools from the truck he paused for a second, wiping his wet forehead with his hat contemplatively.

Then, he pointed the shovel into the ground and plunged it in with seemingly little effort.

"Well, Phil," I smile at the cat. "It looks like our new friend Al is going to work out just fine."

Staring out the window, Phil froze suddenly.

His back arched up.

What the hell?

I examine the rather unspectacular scene closely and see nothing.

Al shovels another load of dirt.

Phil growls.

I lean toward the window, still seeing nothing.

And then I realize that the ground is subtly moving.

Just a little at first ... in random patches. But within moments, the very Earth is seething in movement.

Cicadas.

--Of the order Hemiptera, suborder Auchenorrhyncha, in the superfamily Cicadoidea.

Brood XIII.

Still digging, Al Fresco notices nothing as the huge swarm emerges around him, ravenous from their 17-year fast. In seconds, there are hundreds of thousands of the bloodthirsty beasts, and Al is startled by the steady shriek of hungered frenzy. Suddenly aware of them, he drops his shovel and runs for the door. But it's too late I realize when he rings the doorbell for the eighth time: a hideously large cicada leapt into his eye, and burrowed his way into Al's tasty brains.

Al screamed, tearing at his face -but this only excited the frenzied creatures: another attacked, tearing into the exposed flesh of his arm. Then dozens. Then hundreds.

Thousands.

Al Fresco's bones were picked clean before they even fell to the ground.

Unable to take my eyes from the horrific scene, I slowly reach for my phone.

I speed-dial number "1".

"Yes," says a voice.

"Uh, Ethan?" I says. "I'm not coming to work today."

"Why?"

"I'll explain later," I says. "But do you know any fat gardeners that would come over in an emergency?"

Landscapegoating

Predator Press

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My job and house-hunting have been keeping me very busy.

And today, I'm supposed to mow Mr Insanity's lawn in his absence.

But I have a sacred duty to you o loyal reader; thwarting the onslaught of the green menace must wait!

Shocked that some of you are still getting your news from irresponsible news sources like CNN and FOX rather than Predator Press, my main concern today is over the reporting of the afore mentioned mainstream media.

Often, it's what's not said that make up the most well-embraced and magnificent lies of our world. For example, the Lisa Stebic disappearance; this weekend, a story trickled out that an "unnamed source" had revealed that some of Lisa Stebic's blood had been found in her husband's vehicle. By Monday, the story was not surprisingly being reported as coming from "numerous sources".

The media, essentially, was citing itself.

In contrast, Predator Press never cites anybody.

In another example, yesterday I was pretending to read the newspaper, and there was an article about some someone trying to push legislation through to make it illegal to use horses for food.

Now personally, I maintain a strictly-disciplined vegan, vegetarian, meat, poultry and fish diet. Still, with the rare exception of horse de oeuvres, I don't eat horse.

A horse is a big animal.

A horse could kick your ass.

Plus they make lousy pets. It's hard to get an apartment when you have a pet horse. And housebreaking one? Ewe!

So I can only imagine this new legislation coming from extreme groups like "The People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals", aka "PETA". We already agree that aside from glue and keeping blacksmiths on the Liberal Dole, the horse is a pretty damn useless animal overall, right? So where is PETA going with this? And isn't the demand for food essentially 'static'? I mean, if whoever is eating horses becomes forbidden to eat them, wouldn't they just move on to something else? Like puppies and baby seals?

You see here is where Predator Press becomes relevant. Augmented with my radiant braniosity, we've seen straight through the bull and uncovered what is quite possibly the biggest story this year to date:


PETA isn't interested in animals at all.

They want to kill plants.


While the explicit reason for PETA's well-documented anti-foliage conspiracy for murderous rampage isn't clear, this thinly-veiled cabal has been actively pursuing the decimation of the plant population for years now.

Looking out over Mr Insanity's overgrown yard, I'm considering making PETA a sizable donation ....

The Sound and the Furious

Predator Press

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The strange, screaming woman on the phone informed me that my alimony payments were late.

"Of course they're late," I explain frantically. "I didn't even know about them until now!"

I put the phone in a drawer, but could still hear it. I tried leaving it at the other end of the house with the same results. Honestly, it was either appease this angry woman somehow, or throw the phone into Mr Insanity's pool ... but it looked like a really expensive phone.

I finally just mailed her Ethan's Super Triple Platinum card.

How I could have married such a disagreeable woman completely defies explanation.

... She must be hot.