12/23/2k5 - Taste the Epic
11/3/2k10 - Judgment Day 10/31/10 - Crappy Halloween
10/29/10- Texas or Bust

10//25/10 -
New Doomiforms

7/4/10 -Appetite 4 Corruption
6/15/2k10 - Out of the Red
2K8 Year In Review
1/1/2k8 - Sorry
2K7 Year In Review
6/15/2k7 -
6/15/2k7 -
Mittster Nice Guy
7/10/2k7 -
6/28/2k7 -
All Your Mitt
6/18/2k7 -
6/15/2k7 - Business Report
4/14/2k7 - Back in the USSA
4/11/2k7 - Federico's
4/10/2k7 - Wild Wild Winfrey
3/14/2k7 - Meet Bruno
2/11/2k7 - Conspiracy

1/7/2k7 - Sacrebleu
2K6 Year In Review
ZA pt12 - To Hell With It
ZA pt11 - The Gameplan
ZA pt10 - Vacation
ZA pt.9 - 1,000,000,000 Served
ZA pt.8 - Really Bad Stuff
ZA pt.7 -Washington
ZA pt.6 - Call of the Mild
ZA pt.5 - Thanosaurus & the Infinity Gauntlet
ZA pt.4 - Mitter of Life & Death
ZA pt.3 - Threes' Company
ZA pt.2 - Bad Stuff
6/6/06 - Lawn Burnt
1/30/2k6– Rie Dyes
1/23/2k6 - Rye Looks for
1/7/2k6-Tales from the Inside pt.2
1/5/2K6 - Cooking up a

2K5 Year In Review
12/25/2k5 - Tales from the Inside
12/11/2k5 - Frank Gritt's Day Off
8/19/2k5 - Un"Baron"able
5/18/2k5 - Justin and the Amazing Techni-colored

5/4/2k5 - Where the deer and the antelop work
3/15/2k5: The Mexican Assignment - Part III
3/15/2k5 - The Mexican
Assignment - Part II
3/15/2k5 - The Mexican
Assignment - Part I
2K4 Year In Review
10/31/2k4 - Tyrannosaurus Mex
10/12/2k4 - Alas, Thompson
7/14/2k4 - DesperOttawo
6/16/2k4 - Heroic Boston Globe




































            I stepped off the tarmac with the sights and sounds of the in-flight movie “Mr. 3000” still ringing in my ears. Someday, if I’m lucky enough to retire, I may write a book about my life. There will be parts I’ll forget, due in part to the numerous concussions I’ve had throughout my life. There will be parts I’ll be too ashamed to admit. There will be parts too shocking, fear inducing, or tear jerking to revisit. “Mr. 3000” may possibly be one of the only things I’ll be comfortable talking about in my old age and that makes me a sad person.
I’d only been to Texas once before and that was to play some football against this year’s NFL wildcard “Los Lagartos”. Wait is Death Valley in Texas? Oh man I wish had an Aye-Phone or something so I could look that up. Hey can you do me a favor and look it up for me?

Hashim: It’s in California and Nevada.

The Mad Hatter: Wow you’re fast with that internetty stuff.

Hashim: I didn’t look it up, I just knew it.

The Mad Hatter: Yeah right, Ken Jennings.

Hashim: Look, I’ve got a lot to do, could you just type this up and forward it to Dotty?

The Mad Hatter: I don’t have a computer.

Hashim: What happened to your company laptop?

The Mad Hatter: Oh sure, company laptop, yeah I got it the mail with my armored motorcycle, and the same night the tooth fairy came and put a blank check under my pillow where my dental plan should be.

Hashim: First of all you don’t keep dental plans under your pillow.

The Mad Hatter: Then Santa Claus stopped by….

Hashim: Secondly, I handed you your computer in person.

The Mad Hatter: …

Hashim: Mr. Hatter that computer is an integral part of our financial backbone, it stores customer information, market trends, expenses, profits, liability contracts for legal purposes, personal injury claim forms for insurance purposes…

The Mad Hatter: I used it to pay for rent.

Hashim: -Sound of phone repeatedly hitting forehead-

The Mad Hatter: Well I should probably be bagging some zombies.

Hashim: You’re on unpaid vacation right now.

The Mad Hatter: Oh yeah, that sucks. I should’ve stayed on the night shift at the Bagel Basement. My child support bills are killing me and they’re saying if I slip up again I could be looking at some jail time, but I mean, like how is that going to help anything? Hello? Hello?

Dotty: Jim Rage’s Elite Zombie Hunting Squad how may I be of service today?

The Mad Hatter: Dotty?

Dotty: Hey Mark, how’s it going big fella. You wanna come down to Club Electra for ladies night tonight?

The Mad Hatter: Uh, this is Chico, and no I don’t ever want to go to Club Electra. You know you were supposed to book me a flight to Austin so I could beat up Justin and get my $500 back.

Dotty: Well it’s not like it matters anyways Justin and Wild West Winfrey aren’t in Texas anymore.

The Mad Hatter: What?

Dotty: Yeah, they’re off the coast of Cuba on some paramilitary Pepsi research island.

The Mad Hatter: Aw Dotty, I wished you’d called or something. Booking the flight to Austin from Boston was kind of pricey and it’s not really within my means right now.

Dotty: Oh and the bill collectors are calling again. They’re saying you’re Mastercard has been maxed out for three months now.

The Mad Hatter: Can you tell them I’m dead or something?

Dotty: They know you’re not because they’ve been reading the news on the website.

The Mad Hatter: Oh, well that’s stupid. Why is it… Wait can you hold on I’ve got another call. -BEEP- Hello?

Dotty: Hi.

The Mad Hatter: Oh shit I hit the wrong button. –BEEP- Hello?

Mysterious Voice: rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr I’m coming for you The Mad Hatter. rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr  I’m going to make you pay for all the things you’ve done. rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

The Mad Hatter: Are you driving while talking on the cellphone?

Mysterious Voice: rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr No rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

The Mad Hatter: You totally are.

Mysterious Voice: rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr Wait what? rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

The Mad Hatter: You know how many people die every year of vehicular homicide because of idiots like you?

Mysterious Voice: rrrrrrrrrrr I’m actually, truthfully not driving a car. rrrrrrrrrrrrr But I am on my way to get you this very moment and you’ll have no idea which way it’s coming from. rrrrrrrrr Ha rrr Ha rrr Ha! rrrrrrrrrrr.

The Mad Hatter: Well I know it’s coming from the direction of New Jersey.

Mysterious Voice: rrrrrrrrrrr huh? Wait, how, how’d you know that? rrrrrrrrrrrrrr

The Mad Hatter: Because you’re number popped up on my phone. 908-420-0952 That’s a Jersey number.

Mysterious Voice: rrrrrrrrrrr Aw, dammit I thought I turned caller ID forwarding off. rrrrrrrrrrrrrr You just had that area code memorized? rrrrrrrrrrr

The Mad Hatter: I used to date a girl from New Brunswick, her dad was in Styx.

Mysterious Voice: rrrrrrrrrrr Sally Burtnick? rrrrrrrrrrrr

The Mad Hatter: You know Sally?

Mysterious Voice: rrrrrrrrrrr Yeah I went to highschool with her rrrrrrrrrrrrrr

The Mad Hatter: Whoa small world. Anyhow I’ve got a call on the other line, but I look forward to meeting you.

Mysterious Voice: rrrrrrrrrrr I’m going to break your face rrrrrrrrrrrrr.

The Mad Hatter: Sounds great. –Beep- Hello? Dotty?

Dotty: Hi.

The Mad Hatter: Can you find me a place I can rent a boat?

Dotty: I’ll get right on it.

The Mad Hatter: But before you do that can you type out this story I have for the site?

Dotty: Sure, why not?

The Mad Hatter: Alright you ready?

Dotty: yup.

Chico and the

As part of his impossible quest to recover his five hundred missing dollars from co-worker Justin Cendiary, Chico “Eraserhead” Eastridge was cooling his heels in an Austin, Texas Econo-Lodge before his planned departure to a secret paramilitary Pepsi Island. With his Mastercard maxed-out and his bank account dried up like a dead beetle, Eastridge had been forced to sell his trombone to a pawnshop. Throughout his peculiar and violent life, Eastridge had experienced many highs and lows, he never felt as bad as when he watched old Sal put that trombone in the pawnshop window.
Flicking on the TV, and opening the package of Combos that was to be his dinner, Eastridge remembered that it was Halloween and thought back to so many years ago when he beat up those kids in West Fairlee. In fairness, he thought they were zombies, and when you dress up like the undead and demand candy from a zombie hunter…you reap what you sow. Still, despite that false alarm, Eastridge always liked to be prepared. There was no telling what sort of bizarre, horrifying journey into madness that this Halloween would bring. He dug through his backpack until he found his lucky claw hammer. A sledge hammer would have been ideal, but it wasn’t very practical to carry around when you’re traveling. This was the “Travel Scrabble” version, if you will.
Later, just as Dirty Jobs was getting to the part where Mike Rowe gets covered in slime, the power cut out and Eastridge was left in darkness, save for the pale, eerie light from the full moon. Eastridge tensed up like a caged tiger and prepared for a worst. A large shadow drifted across the drawn blinds and someone…or something…knocked at the door. Eastridge raised his hammer, ready to strike at whatever evil force stood behind the door, as he carefully turned the knob.
“Trick or treat, non?” There before him stood Jean Reno, dressed in a dinosaur costume. The famous French actor grinned broadly. “Bonjour, mon ami. We meet again.”
            “Jean Reno!” exclaimed Eastridge. “What are you doing here and why are you wearing that absurd outfit?”
“Zat is why my disguise is zo brilliant! No one would suspect zat Jean Reno, famous French actor, would be wearing a garish, dinosaur costume!” Jean Reno strolled inside, dragging his green dinosaur tail.
“I am disappointed Chico. Since I revealed to you zee nefarious activities of zee Interstate Bakeries, you have done nothing to fight zese madmen.”
“Y’know, I’ve been pretty busy,” said Eastridge, discretely tossing aside his hammer. “You can’t expect me to tackle something like that overnight.”
“It was three years ago.” said Reno, flatly.
“Really? Wow. Well, I’ll have to get right on that. Just as soon as I get my five hundred dollars back from Justin.”
“You do not appreciate zee gravity of zis situation. Dark legions are at work, mon ami. Ze conspiracy goes all ze way to the top.”
“Oh yeah?” asked Eastridge with a mouth full of combos. They were pizza flavored. Eastridge wondered how pizza could be a flavor of its own. Jean Reno’s face grew cold and he peered around the room cautiously.
“What if I told you zat I am best friends with President Nicolas Sarkozy? And through zat friendship I have learned secrets ordinarily reserved for the highest echelons of the military intelligence community? The things I have seen.” Reno’s voice trailed off into silence. The two men stood in the darkened room for what seemed to be an eternity. Somewhere, off in the distance, a car alarm went off.
“I, uh, I need more to go on Jean Reno. Sure, that stuff with the Ho-Hos and the Yodels was pretty nefarious…but what’s the bigger picture here?”
 “The eyes and ears of evil are everywhere, mon ami. I can only give you the merest scraps of information; brief leads that you must promise to investigate!”
“I promise Jean Reno.”
“Very well. Necrogenesis. 2012. PepsiCo. The Dark Church of Death. I must say no more!”
“Dang it!” shouted a visibly frustrated Eastridge. “That doesn’t tell me anything!”
“I have already said too much!” answered Reno, making his way for the door. “Even I, the star of The Round Up, must be careful. Au revoir, Chico. And remember: keep this secret! Don’t you dare post this on your stupid company website!” With that, Reno walked off into the night. The lights flickered back on shortly afterward, as if by magic. Eastridge, annoyed and very tired, settled back on the bed to catch the end of Dirty Jobs. A particularly graphic scene of botfly removal was interrupted by news coverage of a high speed boat chase. Wild West could be seen dropping depth charges stage off the coast guard from recovering their stolen boat and Justin Cendiary at the helm. Chico muttered something under his breath and a woman nearby said “Excuse me?” He did not respond but felt kind of embarrassed.
Later that night, he barely escaped an attack by a vicious horde of Biohazardous Zombies in which lots of people died and Eastridge made lots of sick jumps on a dirtbike and there was a tremendous explosion at the end. But, good children, that adventure is for another day.