The Curator of Schlock
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The Curator of Schlock #431: Summer of 84
Edwige, my faithful kangaroo companion, and I had felled the ruffians threatening us in the second floor men’s restroom of the Museum of Schlock. I freed myself from the office chair I was duct taped to, dusted myself off, and scratched Edwige behind the ears. I led the way, trying to figure out where the Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #430: Footprints on the Moon
Razor Fangs, the leather-clad man-eater of the Goose Lord gang, hissed as Edwige, my kangaroo companion from my misadventures in North America, sent a Ferguson toilet crashing down on his head. She did this by maneuvering the potty with her long tail. The seat cracked in two. Razor Fangs collapsed as Edwige giggled as kangaroos Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #429: A Dragonfly for Each Corpse
Razor Fangs, the grotesque man beast of the Goose Lord gang, crept his way to the collapsed Men’s stall. I figured Edwige, my kangaroo companion from my misadventures in North America, was dead, felled by the wicked Razor Fangs. The leather clad freak bushed some of the remnants aside. A bright red boxing glove burst Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #428: The Killer Must Kill Again
Edwige, my long lost kangaroo companion from my misadventures in North America, leaped toward Razor Fangs, an S&M member of the Goose Lord Gang. Before she had a chance to strike, Razor Fangs swung a piece of the broken sink at Edwige. The porcelain hit her in the stomach and she crashed into the disabled Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #427: The Devil Has Seven Faces
Edwige, my long lost kangaroo companion from my misadventures in North America, and Razor Fangs, a feral man clad in stitched leather, were tussling in the trashed bathroom of the Museum of Schlock. Edwige tossed him into one of the standing urinals and it shattered. Water spritzed everywhere. The punk in the blue bandana slipped Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #426: Beast
Beast Edwige, my long lost kangaroo companion from my misadventures in North America, had returned to me. She was hopping up and down atop a dislodged restroom stall door. Underneath that stall door was the punk in the red bandana, now reduced to a crimson, pulpy mess. The punk in the blue bandana screamed as Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #425: Barbarian
I was about to be eaten alive by a guy in a gimp suit in the trashed bathroom of my once beloved establishment, The Museum of Schlock. Right as Terror was about to sink his metal fangs into me, a noise arose from one of the stalls. It sounded familiar to me, a grunting I’d Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #424: The Children of the Corn
The punk in the blue bandana tugged on the leash of the dude clad in stitched leather. “We call him Terror,” the dude said “He likes fresh meat.” Terror grimaced at me with razor sharp chompers. The punk in the blue bandana then pulled out a hunting knife, and sliced my left forearm bloody. Terror Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #423: Aenigma
There I was, tied to an office chair in a smelly bathroom in the Museum of Schlock, my once proud establishment now overrun by hooligans. The door to the bathroom swung open and in walked a trio of goons. Two were identical twins with curly blond hair poking out through their bandanas, one red and Continue reading
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The Curator of Schlock #422: Stepfather 3
I woke up duct-taped to an office chair in the public bathroom on the first floor of The Museum of Schlock. Graffiti everywhere. “Death to the Curator” was tagged with green paint over the door of the second stall. “Get me out of here,” I screamed. I looked around, trying to find piece of broken Continue reading
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