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In celebration of the (in my opinion) best month of the year, I have teamed up once again with the brilliant artist Justin Weingartner, to bring you all a micro-fiction offshoot of my series, Small Bastard Stories™️. On each Monday and Friday of the month, Justin and I will post one of the wee bastards we've concocted, all leading up to a (BIG) Small Bastard Story on the Sovereign Holiday: Halloween.
"Ghosts, Special Agents, sex, and explosions. This twisted tale has all the elements of a thrilling, heart-pounding, haunted house joy ride!" —Amazon review “This book was a hell of a good time! The sort of book you read with a big fat grin on your face. Diaboliquely funny, gory as shit, and written by a … Continue reading Gravenfrost
Kyle's unhappy, unfulfilled, and genuinely ready to punch his own ticket. Would he? Should he? Could he? The answer is no. Why? Read on...
Jake Masters is a bounty hunter with a dark past. That's nothing new. He likes women, whiskey, and wanted posters. Usually in that order. Thing about ol' Jake Masters is he's never alone. You see, the spirit of those done-in by his hand are doomed to follow. Jake's the conductor of his own phantom parade. And the parade keeps marching on...
Everyone knows that a dog is man's best friend. But what if that "man" is actually the head of the limp-dick Ratzi regime? That's right, I'm talking about Shitler.
How many bad ideas have started with “just trust me, okay?”? Felix is about to find out as he follows his crush, Heather, and her friends through a Gravenfrost cemetery during a full moon.
This special Small Bastard Story is hauntingly joined by breathtaking art by Justin Weingartner!
Hellmo: a Small Bastard Story. Eternal damnation takes many forms. But in the case of Mr. Strudel, it's in the shape of a bright red, furry adversary, who brings him nothing but terror and humiliation.
“You catch the finale of The Baritones last night?” Ed asks, up-ending a bag of chip crumbs into his mouth. “Nah, I was at my kid's recital,” I say with a shrug. I like Ed. Of all the guys here, I think he and I are the most on the same page. He's a family … Continue reading Hench
“Yew must think ye'r so damn smart,” the felon known as Crimson Clay said, then spat a thin stream of blood to the dirt. He glared at the burly U.S Marshal who sat on the other side of a modest campfire, stirring a pot of beans. “Reckon I must.” The Marshal stated over the sound … Continue reading A Kindness
Edwin Quay, AKA “Deadwin,” has never felt so good. He hasn't smiled this wide and pure in all his long and sordid years. Pure might be a stretch—let's say manic. He screams a meaty, wet scream and feverishly slaps the steering wheel of the 1970 Cadillac Hearse (that he stole fair and square) to the … Continue reading Out with a Fang (a Small Bastard Story)
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