Gore, Pt. 1

*sigh* Everyone takes me for granted. I didn't post for a more than a month, and no one pleads with me to post. Not even once. *double sigh*
Well, down to business. Considering what a big hit the Bob stories were, and also considering the Bob is, as it were, "on lockout," I have decided to renew interest in Ominous Presence, with a new series of short stories name Gore.
Yes, gore is what I write best.** So, here goes.
The cyclops lifted a monstrous, spiked club above his head, and brought it down on an innocent human. A squelch, and the creature lifted the weapon out of the ground. It was now covered in something resembling chunky tomato paste. The alien cyborg mutant zombie werewolf troll demon goblin vampire opened up with the roof-mounted, four barreled M-60 of his bright yellow Hummer. The cyclops' chest and face was peppered with pink entrance wounds, and his nine-foot girth tumbled to the ground on top of two propane tanks. The ACMZWTDGV, as if he just wanted to make sure, fired the machine gun for about another minute, and then got out and went to inspect the corpse. At that precise moment, the propane tank broke and ignited on the ACMZWTDGV's lit Marlboro. The dusty gravel driveway of Jehoshaphat's Gas was littered with red scraps and lank entrails. The concrete building was was coated with a film of crimson droplets.
All very gruesome. The jedi alighted gingerly on a oversized kidney, and activated his green lightsaber. His jedi-sense was tingling. Then, he suddenly was informed why when a ninja kicked him in the solar plexus. The jedi keeled over, and then jumped six feet in the air, landing on the ninja's head. With a unctuous snap, the spinal column telescoped. But, the jedi was surrounded by ninjas. Only, instead of the usual numchucks and bowstaffs, they carried powerful handguns. The jedi blocked the volley of bullets furiously, the projectiles vaporizing when they touched his blade. With lethal initiative, the jedi sliced every single one of them like sushi.

To be continued.
In case you were wondering, no, that doesn't have a plot.




**Not strictly true. My specialty is actually threatening, impenetrable fogs of sentences, whose meanings I gently shroud under staggering adjectives, and over use of commas, though these are not the only weapons I employ, and sometimes those sentences become cumbersome, and long, and hard to read, until the action of extracting meaning from them transforms into a daunting prospect, like building a rope out of sand.