Past is Prologue
Byline: Gary Llewellyn
Dateline: February 3rd, 2018
What? You want to look at another Bigfoot or melonhead kid? How about a Dracula? Wolfman? A weird Malaysian fuck that butt rapes dudes in their sleep? We gave you about 50 monsters last year and an ‘epic’ battle against a lich, who happened to be my protege’s grandfather. I spent a couple centuries in Everywhen for this shit. Though if I had just stayed put it would have been instantaneous. That one’s on me. My point is, are we just going back to the old beat. Spotlighting weirdos for your entertainment. How about we investigate the ‘coincidence’ of why I was assigned to the monster beat with the granddaughter of the guy Uncle Mort was so worried about?
The guy has secrets. That’s a no-brainer, he’s undead, of course he keeps secrets. You think he’s going to run around telling everybody he’s been to the otherside and guess what there is no otherside. So stop wearing spiritual hairshirts and flogging yourself for the hope of some great reward after you eat it. Especially, stop forcing others into hairshirts because they do something that freaks out your fragile sensibilities and saying it’s some kind of mandate from an invisible man that a creepy fuck in a collar told you about when you were young and gullible. If you want to do that shit to yourself, it’s a free country, but just be aware nobody else is interested in sharing your uptight delusions. Well, it would be a free country if the Christian Right wasn’t fucking everything up on one side and PC shenanigans on the other, treating the savior of humanity like something they found on their shoes. Oh, I didn’t show proper deference to your sky daddy? I’m sorry did I use the wrong word to describe your niche existence I had no idea about until two minutes ago? You ingrates wouldn’t be here to complain about it if it wasn’t for old Gary.
Uncle Mort is an animated skeleton, so it’s not like the column is going off brand, right? But Gary, you say, you can’t possibly go after the guy who signs your checks. It wouldn’t be the first time. It’s the guy that signs your checks that you should be the most interested in. What’s that guy’s story? God knows what he did to get the money to be able to sign your checks. In my case, it’s somewhat different because Mort hasn’t sent me a check that’s cleared in 8 months. I single-handedly defeated a lich with world ending aspirations, you’d think I’d at least get a ‘great job, kid, here’s a living wage,’ but I got nothing of the sort. Not even a mention in one of his Stan Lee ripoff letters to the readers. “Greetings, Doomed Monkeys, Gary Llewellyn just saved all your asses!” I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve worked for old school publishers before.
So, this season get ready for fun and games as Gary Llewellyn takes on his boss and tries to collect back pay. I hope Stephanie is all caught up on her soaps. Vacation’s over.
We’re Only in It for the Money
Byline: Stephanie Morgan
Dateline: February 3rd, 2018
Protege? Whatever. Single handed? You wish.
“Gee Steph, thanks for getting those zombies under control, you really came through.” Nope. He pretends like I wasn’t even there. He even tells me stories about how it went down, like he wasn’t wrecked in an oxygen tent full of vaporized DMT. I spent the month of January putting them all back in the ground where they came from, while Gary spent the month in Cancun trying to pick up 19 year olds. I still have one that follows me around complaining about the tax code and how the man is keeping undead Americans from voting. I don’t know where he came from, so I can’t put him back. At least he keeps the creepers away at the club. Unfortunately, he keeps everybody away at the club.
As for everything else, the kobolds went back to Scandinavia and Nathan is taking pottery classes in Mallorca, or so he says. I know, right now, on some sun drenched beach, he’s off his face on E, telling a bleached blonde in what passes for a bikini about he wants to give her a baby. Oh, you want a month off? Good old Stephanie will take care of the shit work while you’re gone. She doesn’t need time off, she’s not even on the books. I found the monsters, people, and I work for them. Ha! I said ‘work.’ That implies I get paid for this. If Gary has some master plan to collect all that back pay, I’m in, but if this turns into another, ‘oh, Stephanie, please save humanity from the jaws of extinction,’ again, you can forget it. I refuse to save the world while my stomach is growling. Again.