a bad drink

He stumbled in, reeking of the 3 he’d already visited that night, “I’m doing a Halloween pub crawl!”  His words were amazingly clear despite his obvious drunkenness.  The other patrons glanced over their drinks to glare at the man who shattered their silent revelry of dark thoughts.

He slammed his wallet, soggy from the night’s travels, on the bar.  Sighing, the bartender stepped down the length of the counter, “What’ll you have?”

“A Zombie!” He laughed in reply, grinning too widely.

“A Zombie?

“That’s right, it’s a rum drink with…”

“I know what it is,” the bartender turned his back on the man to grab the necessary bottles and put his mixing degree to work.  Who goes out on Halloween to get drunk on novelty drinks?  He could understand the rest of his customers, loners who wanted to avoid the door to door tyrants reminding them of the families they didn’t have.  But they just quietly sipped on their beers and waited until it was safe to return home.

The drink complete, he turned back to the drunk and pushed it across the bar, “Here you go.  That’ll be $7.50.”

He pulled out a damp ten dollar bill, “Keep the change.”  Then he refolded the wallet, stuffed it back into his pants pocket, and lifted the drink, “Cheers!  And may the spooks and ghouls of the evening leave you be.”  With that, he tilted back the drink and poured the concoction down his throat in one go.

He stood from his stool, even more wobbly than he had been when he walked in, and stumbled to the exit.  “Don’t let the night get you down.  The spirits can’t get you if you are happy.”  Then with a little wave he pushed the door open and disappeared.

The parting message gave the bartender goose-bumps but he had forgotten the whole thing ten minutes later.  The voice came from behind him as he was locking up, “I’m one of the ghouls.  Now, where’s my smile?”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….Word Count: 333

Written in response to this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge:

usually zombi
:  the supernatural power that according to voodoo belief may enter into and reanimate a dead body
:  a will-less and speechless human in the West Indies capable only of automatic movement who is held to have died and been supernaturally reanimated
:  a person markedly strange in appearance or behavior
:  a person held to resemble the so-called walking dead;especially :  automaton
  • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
  • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
  • The word itself needs to be included in your response.
  • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
  • Only one entry per writer.
  • If your post doesn’t meet our requirements, please leave your link in the comments section, not in the linkz.
  • Trifecta is open to everyone. Please join us.

zombie fail

“…snarble snorf Brains! snort grungle Brains! brawble brab Braiiiiiiiiiinnnnnsss…”

“Get out of the water, Carl.  You aren’t scaring anyone.”

“I was just trying to be funny.”

“Fail.  Good job on the costume though.”


Word Count: 33

Written in response to this week’s Trifextra:

You’ve found some old books.  On page 3 of one of the books, this illustration appears:

Artist credit: Dan Duford

Give us the 33 words that follow this illustration.  What happens next?

Guest Post: Revis tells the truth

Please welcome back Revis Edegewater who is going to dazzle you all with the some information that has never previously been disclosed about… well… perhaps you better just read what he has to say:

We here at Stuph Blog, and 33 Grams of Blog (and any other blog I happen to be writing for at the moment. What? It’s just those two? Are you sure? It seems like a lot more than that), would like to congratulate the Jester once again on the birth of the Prince. I wish them all the best. Unfortunately, the birth of the Prince raises a question. It might be a question that you yourself has asked (or someone else could have already asked it and I just wasn’t paying attention). The question is this: “How does a jester have a prince for a son?”

Let me clarify by saying that I do not doubt that the Prince is royalty. Clearly, he is. If you look at the history of every monarchy, however, you will see that no prince before has ever been fathered by a jester. This got me thinking into how this could’ve happened. I think it went a little something like this (I haven’t decided yet if what I’m about to tell you is a true story.)


…there lived a beautiful queen. The queen was becoming impatient with her subjects. They were frustrated at her lack of progress in finding the kingdom a king and each day they were becoming more vocal about it. She was trying her best, but every man she met turned out to be a giant tool. Call her crazy, but she didn’t want her, or her kingdom, to be stuck with a giant tool for the duration of his life. Days passed. Those days turned into weeks, the weeks into months, the months into years. Eventually, the talk of her subjects was too much for her to take.

She sat in her ballroom pondering what to do, when suddenly it hit her. Just to shut those stupid commoners up, she’d simply marry the first man she came across who wasn’t a giant tool. As fate would have it, that night her cousin had arranged for a new court jester to play for the evening’s entertainment. When her cousin announced his presence, it jarred her out of her thoughts. She looked him over as he began his act. She thought he was kind of cute. He made her laugh, even though he used the oldest joke in the book, “That is what she hath said.” All-in-all, she liked him.

She also remembered that she had read a poll taken by the kingdom scribe, Kosmo Politan, that said the majority of women found a man with a sense of humor sexy (although she thought that was about as likely as a man who liked a woman for her personality). After his performance, she asked him to dinner the following night and their courtship began.

She eventually found that she liked the Jester for more than his sense of humor, and he thanked his lucky stars every night that a woman as beautiful as the Queen would ever even notice him, let alone court him (you’re welcome, Jester). A year later, they were married. Because he was not of noble birth, the Queen decided not to call him her King, instead leaving him with the title of Jester. When their son was born, however, he remained royalty, and was dubbed the “most awesome Prince in the land”.


After reading that, I’ve decided to make that a true story. The Jester may disagree with that. but, seriously, who are you going to believe? The story-teller, or the guy who was actually there?

PS: If you replace the word “Jester” with the words “Zombie-Killing Rogue” in that story, you will also know how Revis’ daughter was born a princess, even though  her father isn’t a king.


I for one would believe the story-teller because as we all know, the truth is what gets passed down from generation to generation, the truth is what remains as the years pass and the people that lived the events vanish into history, and the truth doesn’t always have to be what actually happened.

Thank you, Revis, for answering the question I’m sure many in the kingdom had been asking themselves.  I would have told the story myself, perhaps this one and perhaps something slightly different, if… er, um, well… no, I probably never would have told this story.

But, now that you’ve all read a story about the kingdom, you should definitely go read some of the other stories that Revis is working on:

And one where he makes you write:

Definitely not a picnic

Well, I guess it could be a picnic, but it isn’t a very nutritious one because the main food on hand is candy, candy, and more candy.  Yes, it is that time again: Halloween.  And in honor of this fun-filled day of flights of fancy and other such fantastic frivolities, I humbly submit the following:

If you go out in the streets tonight you’re sure of a big surprise
If you go out in the streets tonight you’d better go in disguise
For every ghoul that ever there was will wander there for certain
Because tonight the trick-or-treaters will go door to door

Every ghoul or ghost who’s been bad is sure of a treat today
There’s lots of marvelous things to eat and wonderful tricks to play
Beneath the dimming street lamps they’ll trick and treat as long as they please
When the trick-or-treaters go door to door

Candy time for those who dare
Costumed mischief makers are having a lovely time I fear
Goblins, zombies and vampires, wandering the dark streets without a care
See them stealthly creep about
They love to hear you shout
And they travel in pairs
And twelve o’clock their Mummies and Daddies will turn off all the lights
‘Cause they’ve learned to not wait for their sprites

If you go out in the streets tonight you better not go alone
It’s lovely out in the streets tonight and not much safer at home
For every ghost that ever there was will go in search of candy
Because tonight the trick-or-treaters will knock on your door


Obviously, adapted from “The Teddy Bear’s Picnic.”  


Halloween: one of the rare opportunities to either experiment with a personality/wardrobe that you wouldn’t normally chance or to let your true self (the one you normally have to keep hidden) out to roam the street for a few hours.

Plus, there is candy involved.  That makes everything better anyway. 

Whatever your case may be, trying out a new identity or breaking free from the shackles that bind you normally, remember to have fun out there tonight: partying, trick-or-treating, visiting a haunted house (staged or otherwise) or going for a moonlit walk through your local cemetery.

 And don’t forget the chocolate!