♕ ♛ ♔ Cruddy Crown ♕ ♛ ♔
I’m the king of crud.
Inside, a rat gnaws my soul.
My heart pumps black blood.
There are a variety of bastards and some are more furry than others—it’s a fact.
…Leather jackets…switchblades…incisors…whiskers…a vermin epidemic is making everyone grow a tail and society can’t put up with that kind of nonsense.
Food poisoning? A scientific experiment gone wrong? A million year old curse? Who knows. Sometimes we need a little push to bring out our worst—because somewhere deep inside…way deep…there’s a little rat in all of us.
“Werewolves are a pain in the ass every full moon. Rats are pain in the ass…
…all of the time.”—Ancient Proverb
He walks up the stairwell and turns left down a short hallway. The delivery boy stands in front of apartment 6 and knocks.
He tries again.
A scream erupts from apartment 5.
“Fuckin’ mutt! I’m going to throw you out of the window!”
Apartment 6 opens.
“Ummm…here’s your order.” The delivery boy says.
A guy in a black leather jacket digs inside a pocket, revealing a handful of dollars.
“Keep the change.”
He hands over the cash, takes the clear plastic bags, and shuts the door. The guy in the leather jacket rests the bags on top of a stack of Big Jugs Monthly.
“Glenn — the dog food arrived.”
A short man, wearing a backwards hat, steps out of the bathroom.
“Already? We called five minutes ago! Artie — hand me a bag — I’m going to check the order.”
Artie’s eyes shift toward the television.
“…Master Disaster won’t stay down! He can’t be defeated! Look at him! Look at that unstoppable abomination!”
Glenn tosses a glance toward the television.
“Come on? How can you watch this shit? You know it’s fake…right?“
Artie shrugs his shoulders and opens a fortune cookie: We must transform to ascend.
He crushes the fortune inside the palm of his hand and flicks it behind a pile of empty beer cans.
“Yeah? So? That vampire show you watch is fake. At least these people bleed real blood!”
Glenn shakes his head.
“You’re missing the point…and they don’t always bleed real blood!…I can tell by the smell that they got the order wrong.”
“What else is new?”
He walks toward the window and looks down the street. The delivery boy escorts a woman in a purple dress toward a rusted parked car toward the end of the block. Glenn grabs the remote and changes the channel to Animal Galaxy.
“…A tree sloth only climbs down from the tree canopy to defecate, putting itself at sever risk from all types of predators…”
Glenn opens a box of pork fried rice.
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**Critically Acclaimed Reviews for Rat Bastard: Year of the Vermin **
“This book took hours away from my life…and it felt great.”—Terry V. Notreal.
“…Very Slam Bam!”—Poet Rummager
“Action. Mystery. Fun. What more do you want?”—Felicia Fictitious