And There Was Ninja Moustache (Chapter 63)

    “I’ll run over and grab it,” said LaShawn.  “No, hold on,” said Rory. “Something doesn’t feel right.”  We stood at the back corner of the shed, looking out across the yard to where the suicidal clone had dropped the AK-47. It was a potent weapon, and precious.  “Seriously,” said LaShawn. “I’ll be there and... Continue Reading →

And There Was Ninja Moustache (Chapter 61)

    I followed LaShawn along the tunnel. It dipped and narrowed. Above us, the drumming cracks of machine gun fire ceased, leaving only the rumbling drone of the tractor tyre. LaShawn quickened his pace and began singing “Lump” by The Presidents of the United States of America.     At the end of the tunnel, he... Continue Reading →

And There Was Ninja Moustache (Chapter 59)

    The tunnel levelled out and divided in three directions. We turned left and kept moving, as gunfire and the roar of Budgie’s tractor tyre grew louder above. A great thump, like a cannon firing, struck directly above us. The tunnel shuddered and the lights went out.  “Run!” yelled LaShawn.  I kept one hand on... Continue Reading →

And There Was Ninja Moustache (Chapter 53)

    We walked back along the tunnel, took a left turn and headed up a long, steep ramp.  “So, what are the clones going to do?” I asked.  “They’ll split up,” said LaShawn. “With them running around, it will confuse Jimmy O’Shea’s men—the clones might even kill a few of them. And, hopefully, they’ll keep... Continue Reading →

And There Was Ninja Moustache (Chapter 52)

    Between LaShawn’s fingers oozed a greyish yellow goo.  “See,” he said, holding the goo out for me to inspect, “no blood.”  I leaned in and peered at the strange substance, then poked it with my finger.  “Huh,” I said. “It’s like dough, runny dough.”  “Exactly. No brains, no fragments of skull, just this stuff.”... Continue Reading →

Short Fiction: Vegetarian Home Defence

Echoing through the empty, Sunday morning main street of a country town, an elderly Honda hatchback engine screamed in speeding pain. In the driver’s seat of the car sat a young man wearing an ill-fitting suit and a worried look, wrenching the gearstick and mashing the clutch in a rushed and clumsy manner that corroborated... Continue Reading →

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