The Slush Pile

Note: This story is the third in a series. While it’s not necessary to read the previous two to enjoy this entry, you can find them here:

Lognar

Lognar and the Misappropriated Stereotypes

A horn blared, severing the stillness of the suburban night. I just had time to leap out of the way as tires screeched and a sports car peeled through the intersection, xenon headlights searing my vision. “Eat shit, faggot!” called a too-familiar voice as it passed, something wet and heavy splashing against my chest, coating me in a lukewarm goo. A cacophony of laughter followed, only waning when the car finally disappeared around the block’s far corner.

Opting to stay prone on the grassy strip where I’d fallen, I closed my eyes, focusing on the wetness that was beginning to permeate my sweater. But before I could wallow too deeply in my embarrassment, an elephantine finger prodded my torso. “Don’t worry,” said Lognar, suckling at his finger. “It’s not real shit.”

Continue reading Lognar and the Bad Word

Note: This story is the second in a series. While it’s not necessary to read the previous entry to enjoy this one, it is recommended. Click here to read the first story featuring Lognar.

There was a buzz. It was faint at first, just a tickle at my center, but soon it had blanketed my everything in its sublime hum. I wasn’t something that interacted with the universe any longer, I was the universe itself. As I let the smoke go in a steady, even plume, the couch began to fold itself around me. I raised the bong again, preparing to go deeper, when a voice cut my tranquility short.

“Whatever happened to puff, puff, pass?”

Continue reading Lognar and the Misappropriated Stereotypes

“You gonna eat that?”

I looked around. Maybe this was it, maybe this was “too high.” But after the hair on the back of my neck settled back down, my attention shifted back to the level I’d been bruising my thumbs trying to beat. After four more inevitable failures I tossed the controller against the ground. “Dogshit!” I shouted, pulling at my hair.

“It’s not dogshit. You keep trying to go through the undead paladin, you need to go around it. I mean they practically spell it out for you.”

Continue reading Lognar