I was fortunate to ink over Dario Carrasco's pencilwork on the cover of Digital Webbing Presents issue #32. Digital webbing is by far my favorite forum for creators. If you create comics, or would like to one day, Digital Webbing is the place to go.


A preview of Funhouse Of Horrors and Broken Frontier review
I'm currently wrapping up a title as artist with Jazan to be anounced.


Pariah 4 is in Comic shops now
If you're looking for Pariah 4 or any back issues visit Orlando Harding's PARIAH.

Initiation publication, Nightmare World My first published Work & great Online Reads. I've worked on 4 tales there. Dirk Manning will chill you.


"That Hollow Music" at Komikwerks Written by Steven Withrow.










VI. Sam I Am
On the ride home, shuttled by the Goons that brought him to see the man with no head, Sam stared at the gun. A scarred gun handed to him by a man so tall he couldn’t see his face. Sam hadn’t looked up farther than the Big Red “D” featured on the mans tie pin. So from that point on Sam thought the mans face might look like a big red D if he should ever happen to lay eyes on it.

While examining the large scratched gun in his lap Sam began to finger its metal gouges. He can’t quite place the model of the gun, he had thought for a moment it may be a Desert Eagle, or some other huge gun in shape that’s known for putting large holes in things. He would hate to see what this thing could do to someone’s head. He even ventured to think for a moment, “maybe that’s why I couldn’t see his head”, Sam murmured this inaudibly to himself. The Goon in the passenger side turned to look back at him for a moment said something that sounded strangely from another galaxy, Sam thought, something, “Aladdin” and “Gold” and then hit the other goon driving.

Sam looked back to the gun and then, just for a moment, the gun looked back at Sam. No, Sam thought this can’t be right, that‘s just silly. But to his amazement it started to breath, or at least it seemed to breath. Outside sam remains stolid trying not to let the goons in on what was going down. In fact to them he remained tolerably calm to spite the current events.

This night simply had his nerves on end, one moment the weekend started like any other normal weekend. Sam tried to back track, at what point did everything get so, so turned on it’s side and upside down. “Topsy-Turvy,” slipped through Sam’s mind. He could remember waking to his wife’s big ass, the birds squawking, that damn rock that made his lawnmower light up like a Christmas tree then…a flying pig?

From the corner of his eyes Sam thought he saw a flying pig. On closer inspection out the backseat widow Sam realized there was no traffic. Sam thought this a little odd, there was always traffic, jammed mostly, commuting in and out of the city. Now right before his eyes Sam realizes the window is like a thinning veil, he can see the city passing on the other side but there was more, as if he could see through to some lost forgotten world as well, maybe a dozen! A flying pig could have flown by, Sam rationalized. It seemed to make sense now. Just then, not a moment after the thought had leaped from his mind, there outside the tinted rear window stood a flying pig perched on the door handle. It looked at him momentarily and then just continued forward on it’s way. Sam rubbed his eyes but was so happy and relieved to see this and laughed a little. A flying pig COULD fly by and DID! Flying pigs are real, Sam had no doubt and shrugged it off.

Without notice Sam began flicking one of the largest gouges on the gun with his thumbnail. The crisp clicking of his thumbnail on the metal reported uneven at first and then seemed to find a beat. Sam thought of flying pigs, one, then another and soon he was counting flying pigs as some people might count sheep to overcome a bout of insomnia in the dead of night.

Now his nails had found a steady clicking beat like an old grandfather clock. Sam recalled the one from in the hallway of his parents house when he was just a boy on the farm. He could hear the familiar clicks of the grandfather’s pendulum echoing from anywhere in the house. Now everything in the car echoed this beat and seemed to match it with sights, scents and tastes in the air as melodies, rhythms and harmonies to a grand orchestra at the Grand ole’ Opry. Click, clock, Click-Click, clock, Click! Even the grooves in the road found beat under the tires of the long black sedan. Thump, Ka-THUMP, Thump, Ka-THUMP! A percussion of light splashed on the highly polished brown seat leather as the street lights over head darted by, Sam was reminded of darting impala’s. Sam began to smell everything and overwhelming scents seemed to invade him starting with the smell of fine leather.

The goons in the front, Sam noted, bobbled side to side as the road leered left, left, right and left again. Sam found himself drunk for a moment when caught in the smell of their aftershave.

Then he smelled the Flying pigs and they smelled like freshly baked cinnamon cookies!

Sam realized he’d been counting Flying pigs like someone with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder on crack. He felt he knew everything and everything was just the way it should be. Including the 3,352...3...4...5... Flying pigs that continued on their way passed the black sedan, smelling of fresh Cinnamon cookies. Actually Sam could surmise that the Cinnamon cookie smell was slightly undercooked, just the way Sam like them! He had an insatiable urge to reach right through the veil of the tinted glass window into that other world and pluck one of those pigs from the air to taste his theory. But…

He dare not remove his hand from the gun. He knows this whole lovely world would suddenly come crashing down like a house made of playing cards. No, anything but that. Sam worried for a moment and he could feel a bead of sweat form above his brow.

“No matter what, I must keep my place, I must keep my hand on the gun,.“ Sam whispered and then shuddered.

The lights of the city tapered off and began dotting periodically now over the leather seats. Everything seemed to get darker and the lights where more scattered now as they made their way in and to the countryside. Soon there would be no lights at all and Sam would cease to be here.

Sam sighed deeply as the lights tapered off and the passenger goon turned around in his chair and to look at him.

“JEEZ, He looks like Aladdin rubbing his golden lamp!” The passenger goon assessed. A pair of cold eyes flash up momentarily from the cascading yellow lines on a road that passes beneath the sedans headlights over a water fall of tar . “Looks like he jerking off.” Grunts the driver side Goon.

The passenger goon spasms into a laughing fit at this quip and lovingly punches the driver goon in the arm. WHACK! The Black Sedan swerves to the right. This seems to upset Sam who snorts loudly in one sharp, raspy inhale which ends the moment of Goony jubilation as quickly as it had begun. The balance of whatever’s got a hold on Sam has been interrupted.

The driver Goon shoves the other back after a brief wrestle with the steering wheel to regain control the car. ”What are you CRACKERS?! You want him to wake up? Man turn around and lets ride this thing out! This shit gives me the Heebie-Jeebies, you know that.” The driver goon whispers this defiantly in question that comes off more like statements to the passenger goon. The passenger goon drops the smile and gives the driver goon the slack jaw look. In moment the Passenger goon finds a thought, “Don’t worry buddy, he’s gone.” he pats his buddy’s shoulder, “ Just look at him,” Driver flashes his eyes into the rearview at Sam again and Passenger continues,” We could drop an anvil on his head and he wouldn’t feel a thing. Like one-ah those bugs bunnies cartoons.” He laughs at his comparison. The Driver flashes a set of dangerous eyes from Sam to his goofy friend, rolls them and then it‘s back to the road. The Passenger Goon Turns around in his seat, “Jeez Frank you know this shit.”

Frank looks back one last time to observe Sam who sits like a Buddhist monk in the deepest of meditations. He can even see Sam’s pupils scrounging around for something… lost?, Frank theorizes, beneath two vein laden wrinkled eyelids. Frank thinks they seem made more of iguana hide than of human flesh.

Franks eyes are back to the road and he slows the car as they are suddenly jostled by a crackling private gravel driveway.

Frank coldly, “We’re here.”



V. M-80
BOOM! Boom! The loud report and echo from Steve and Larry’s M-80’s could be heard throughout the neighborhood. The boys were so entranced in the activity they remained oblivious to the dots of bedroom lights turning on in the area. Well, they were their father’s stash but the boys like to play when father is away on the occasional business trip.

Lloyd peeped out his private study window and could see the twins. His lights turned off with only the dim glow of his computer screen behind him.

They lit another and threw it - BOOM! The boys become giddy at the sight and sound of the flash. They are behind the tool shed in their fenced in backyard. Mom was prolly finishing her late shift at the Hospital. This could go on for another hour of boomtastic entertainment for the two. Too bad there was only one M-80 left. After this one they’d go up stairs, grab some munchies and snicker at their fathers other stash, the one with naked ladies.

Larry held and threw the bombs while Steve lit. This is the routine they agreed and adhered to. Steve yelled, “They’re climbing over the wall! Let’em have it!” Steve strikes a match. For a moment their faces glow from the match then the wick catches fire, SSSSssssssSsssss. They hear a siren and see flashing police lights from their concealed side of the fence. The boys together, “SHIT! The cops! Put it out, put it out!” Steve licked his fingers and snuffed the wick. The Visco fuse burned quick but Steve caught it a little more than halfway to the barrel. The car patrols slowly. The boys crouch in the dark between the fence and the tool shed . Facing each other, whispers, shhhhhhh. A strong beam of light blinks on and then flips on and off between the fence cracks as it gets closer. The beam approaches and stops two feet in front of Larry and Steve.

Officer Polanski turned the corner and rolls his patrol car along slow beside a long wooden fence. He shines his spotlight in the yard and squints through the cracks searching for suspicious activity. Various phone calls had been made to the station complaining about someone lighting off fireworks. They got a tip about a set of twins in the neighborhood who might be the culprits. He stopped the car and got halfway out rubbing his head. This is the address. Polanski, “HEY! I know you’re back there! Come out and don’t make me chase you little shits! “ He takes off his hat and scratches his brow with it. Oh well, he’d circle the area again to see if anything turns up. Him and the boys are meeting up at Dunkin World soon to grab some coffee and Doughnuts. Polanski begins to plunge back into his seat then…

BOOOM! Boom!



IV. Gerbil Sauce
Mr. Giggles holds on for dear life as the monstrous turning wheel thing spins around and around. The surface of the ceiling fan is too slick to claw into and he can hold no longer. He falls and flies and the knots hit in his stomach, forcing black pellets from his ass. The energy of the rubber band bungee cord at it's apex pushes Mr. Giggles brains into the back of his eyes. The little eyes pop up like those of a cartoon character from the sunday funnies frozen in an expression of shock. They stay that way as he jolts up and down.

Little Zachary laughs. HA! HA! HA!



III. Lloyd
Lloyd flipped on his computer. The start up programs usually took forever, he'd have to buy more memory or another computer soon. While that went on he liked to fix himself some gourmet coffee. The coffee maker gurgled and puffed out the last droplets of, what seemed to Lloyd, life fluid. A fliud he could not go without. Some noise from outside. Lloyd likes his coffee, lots of sugar lots of cream. Sometimes for a kick he liked to throw in an extra helping of Bailey’s. Cursing and yelling outside. Lloyd split the kitchen window blinds and took the first slurp of coffee. He really slurped it too, like a Sommelier of vintage wine. His wife Sandra could hear it from the bedroom where she dozes. Seems like old Sam next door was having some lawnmower trouble, he felt himself laughing at Sam.

Good. rickety old goat.

The computer chimes echoed in his private study which meant it's time for his favorite online passion. The faces of young naked bodies, male or female it doesn't matter to Lloyd, greet him with doe eyes. SLURP! click. The pictures are fine but it's the chats that get his rhubarb red. SLURP! click, click, click. He browses through some forums and chat rooms. He had to be careful nowadays with that program on TV fishing for child predators. Lloyd's got a good idea what to look out for concerning this and what to avoid . Those guys that get caught are suckers, "newbie’s." Lloyds been going strong for years. He's a pro at this game. The "Young Love" site was always a trusted hangout for a good run on the weekends. He'd been developing a relationship with "Boytoy13" and today is the big day. SLURP! He can't wait to get another trophy.



II. The Docks
He took the gun out his pocket like a piece of candy, Sam realized this man was a lot bigger than a human being should be. Jeezus, how did he get here? The weekend started normal enough.

The big man held the gun out in a showcase of huge suasage fingers, Sam studied the black thing and moves back a step. Pitch black, scorched and scratched with scars of reflective metal beneath. He thought he could count the scuffs like the rings on a tree to determine how old the thing is, OR how many people it might've killed. Jeezus, this thing would be one of those giant red woods tourists drive their cars through.

He certainly felt like a tourist at the moment, a tourist visiting psycokiller Mob Nat’l' park. MUST be mob, he thought. The "Boys" who drove Sam to this place realigned him to the gigantic man with the Red Wood gun. Sam took the gun, it was heavy and now some of his fingers rested in the etched metal caverns which ran here and there and around. Sam kept his eyes fixed on G man's tie pin, a gold circled bit with deep red and a "D" in the center. Sam thought if he looked up any further there'd be a painful tinge in his neck. If he was lucky G man's face would be obscured by dark clouds. Ridiculous, he can't be THAT tall, plus the fact it's a beautiful sunshiny day out. He didn't want to know what this man looked like, Sam's curiosity got him into this mess in the first place, after all curiosity killed the cat.



I.
Sam clears the rocks from his spacious yard, it's a beautiful April day, the song birds are at play and the breeze is just right. Sam picks up a rock and throws it in the neighbors yard. This continues till he reaches the dirty severed finger beneath his sapling apple tree.

Earlier
Saturday morning. If my wife didn’t wake me up with her big ass on my side of the bed again, the chirping and squawking birds would have. Now the lawn mower is smoking like 911 and I've only got a small patch of corner yard done. I really hate my yard, my neighbors too, they keep throwing their rocks and crap into my yard. I swear, the same rock that just tried to kill my mower is the same that killed my last one, like I have the money for this shit.

Sam hunches over and grabs the evil rock. He studies its’ various scrapes and chips, no doubt this one has killed many a lawnmower in its’ time. He tosses it with relish into Lloyds yard and swats his hand together a few times to rid the dirt. He surveys his yard and continues the crusade to clear his lawn.