MorbidbookS New Arrivals & Print Catalogue!

•October 17, 2015 • 3 Comments

 

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Join the Freaks at MorbidbookS. Where Everything Bleeds.

 START HERE for the Newest MorbidbookS Titles on AMAZON. Print and Kindle!

~MORBIDBOOKS PRINT CATALOGUE~

(Presented mostly in no discernable order)

  “When it comes to the grotesque and bizarre, rev rage [and MorbidbookS] thinks outside the pine box (casket, that is). this is a short but tasty little treat for those who like their literature to run on the sick and twisted side. as with his book about pilate, rage combines a knowledge of modern street/drug   culture and slmbsang with an intelligent wit and a lyrical sense of prose. although written in prose, it has a certain poetic flow that maintains the sick depravity you expect to see in rage’s work. it’s short, but complete unto itself. it doesn’t need to be any longer than it is…and it almost comes off as reading like a morbid, morose, sick, demented, profane version of The Iliad and The Odyssey (in form, not in content). and it really is worth reading…if you like this kind of sick stuff, which I do. as i said, it’s not just gross…there’s an intelligence and a worthy writing style in rage’s work. it’s hard to explain. all i can say is: if i were ever to be reincarnated as another charlie manson, i would definitely want steven rage in my family. this is an inventive story of woe and regret and sex and things crawling out of notoriously uncomfortable body orafices that is not to be missed. if you like the demented and bizarre, give this short but tasty little number a try. it’s like chicken eyeball soup with entrails for your shriveled, rancid soul.”

D. Gorman “Crystalline Structure Moon”

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43.

Buds

Authored by James H. Longmore

https://www.amazon.com/Buds-James-Longmore-ebook/dp/B01GWKBZ82/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1467431609&sr=1-1&keywords=morbidbooks#navbar

List Price: $12.99
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
160 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692733783 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692733787
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Wildus Guidry, the amateur scientist extraordinaire, invents time travel. To his bitter disappointment, he finds that his device only transports him mere fractions of a second into the past. Inhabiting the new, alternate world of the fractional past are a variation of human beings that reproduce asexually by budding and use sex only as a recreational pastime and their means of feeding.
Disappointed by his discovery, Guidry and his entrepreneurial girlfriend decide to bring back some of the Buds and open the world’s most bizarre and exclusive brothel; their unique appearance as grotesquely erotic conjoined twins, triplets, quadruplets (and more!) proving most popular amongst the perverted elite clientele.
Of course, all goes terribly wrong as the Buds turn out to be not as benign as first thought as chaos and the end of the world as Guidry knows it ensues.

Buds is a unique and sexy take on the popular time travel trope, and a must for all lovers of conjoined twin tales. An erotic, at times brutal and disturbing story told with lashings of dark humor.

42.

Mother F*ing Black Skull of Death

Authored by Matthew Vaughn

List Price: $12.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692585573 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692585575
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Pulling into the parking lot is a massive semi, with a huge trailer painted with gory pictures of impaled bodies and a pile of severed heads. There’s a huge silver skull near the back that has the words ‘Mother’ and ‘Fucker’ where its eye sockets should be, and ‘Black Skull of Death’ for a mouth. The truck pulls around, away from the front of the store. I can see the doors on the back of the trailer as the driver backs the rig towards us. It’s a painting of a naked woman with huge tits. She’s covered in blood and sitting on a massive pile of skulls, holding a can of Mother Fucking Black Skull of Death between her legs. I’m instantly hard as a rock.

41.

“Burn, Ferguson, Burn!”:

Fun and Games Down Down at the Race Riots, 

Authored by The Blackface Rioter

List Price: $19.99
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
172 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692606575 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692606572
BISAC: Fiction / Black Humor

FUN AND GAMES DOWN AT THE RACE RIOTS! We’ve had four blacks killed by cops in a short span of time that have made big news. The score is that two of them deserved it. Two of them didn’t. They were murdered by the cops. The Civil Rights Movement latched onto one of those assholes who totally fucking deserved it and polarized the races even more. If they only waited until one of the legit cop murders, then there would have been a whole lot of people holding hands and singing Kum-by-ya. Lucky for me, they didn’t.

CreateSpace eStore: www.https://www.createspace.com/5953198

   START HERE for the Newest MorbidbookS Titles on AMAZON. Print and Kindle!

1. Belly: A Brutal Bible Tale. Authored by Rev. Steven Rage

https://www.createspace.com/3537873

List Price: $6.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
140 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1456504991 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1456504991
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~ Our hapless prophet finds himself in the wrong damn place at the wrong damn time. ~
He simply wanted to go to The Harbor to get some Plata because his guy in Big City where he lives got pinched. Desperate enough for the Plata to trudge down to The Harbor, and naive enough to go naked, Jonah finds himself in the midst of a deadly squabble with a an angry , unstable drug dealer pointing a gun at his chest. At point blank range the Plata dealer can’t miss. The dealer fires. Being shot by a large caliber handgun should have put a grieving Jonah out of his misery, but The Christ has other plans for him. What can you say She moves in mysterious ways. Jonah, shot in the chest, is dead before he hits the ground. Fine by him. Not so for the New Christ. She sends Pedro to intervene.
Immanuel the Christ has some nerve. Jonah has already lost everyone he loves to Pilate the vampire and his Harbor drug violence. Jonah now trudges through his days staying as high on Plata as possible. He just wants to be left alone while he waits for his turn to die.
The Christ has other plans for him. She sends Her messenger, Pedro, to assign Jonah the very dangerous task of ordering the Herod to dismantle the Harbor’s Plata trade. Jonah has a choice: fight or flight. He decides to run. But you can’t run from God forever. As Jonah learns the hard way when the ‘Edmund Fitzgerald’ founders and goes down in rough seas, with the reluctant prophet on board.
Job is Satan’s Chosen One and he doesn’t take kindly to orders from some upstart prophet. Rather than acquiescing, Job thinks caving Jonah’s head in with a tire iron is the best bet. Jonah finds himself out of the frying pan, but firmly fixed in the fire. Then the Lord Herself starts dispatching Job’s children. One at a time, until the Herod of The Harbor finally obeys. 

https://www.createspace.com/3537873

2. Brian The Maker. Authored by Gregor Cole

https://www.createspace.com/5154911

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
140 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692347522 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692347526
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Brian tried to remember how all this started as he drove into the torrential night; it almost hurt his head trying to recall the events leading to this moment in time.
Maybe it had started when he was at university.
He had a girlfriend in his final year that had gotten him into some weird stuff sexually then she left him for a guy with a bigger cock. The other guy was some gay looking chump with muscles and a tattoo; the pair had died in a car accident and Brian took a dump on their graves after each of their funerals.
Fuck the both of them.
But after she had left him he needed to fill the void of the newfound enjoyment of sickening sexual practices.
Brain had purchased one of those ‘real life’ sex dolls online from a Japanese company; the company had some kooky name like ‘FUKARADA’ or something. Crazy Japanese bastards, they really led the way in the perverse.
Boy did the thing look real; you could bend it into any position and it came armed with enormous tits, willing mouth and a supposedly real feel pussy and anus. The packaging said to ‘just add lubricant’ but there was a problem. There was something missing; the smells, the tastes and the feel of real skin.
You can’t emulate that.
So Brian set out to attempt to build a real life sex toy made from real life people.

3. Doctor Flesh: Director’s Cut. Authored by Alex S. Johnson

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
176 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692271971 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 069227197X
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

From Alex S. Johnson, the author of Bad Sunset, Wicked Candy and The Death Jazz, comes a new vision in Bizarro horror. Imagine a TROMA film on meth and acid, one part cyberpunk, one part Franz Kafka, and three parts frankly unsuitable for a sane audience. “Will make you feel as if you’ve just eaten 8 Percocets and washed ’em down with a bottle of moonshine,” says Necro Stein of Texas Terror Entertainment.

4. Humanity Is The Devil. Authored by Jordan Krall
List Price: $12.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
222 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0615985466 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0615985467
BISAC: Fiction / Horror

HUMANITY IS THE DEVIL is a deconstructed nightmare mixing David Lynch and snuff movies. The plot revolves around a central character, Seth, who is set about a crusade against humanity which, for him, represents pure evil. Through random killings he and his cronies try to accelerate the end of the world, in order to provoke and defeat the Demiurge, the false God that is ruling the earth. As in Burroughs, logical language is replaced here with cut-scenes – sometimes to be taken literally – that plunge the reader into an extreme experience. Both incredibly morbid and enthralling, HITD is a masterpiece of moral darkness and existentialist reflection upon our comfortable religion and morals.

5. Laugh To Death. Authored by Charie D. LaMarr
FOR print COPY
List Price: $19.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
436 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692330302 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692330305
BISAC: Fiction / Mystery & Detective / General

He didn’t bother to undress—merely unzipping his pants and shrugging them down before dropping on top of her and entering her fiercely. His grunts as he thrust hard into her were loud and vulgar. She struggled and writhed violently beneath him.
“No! You will not move. You say I am a fucking clown, and so I will be. And I will fuck you until I can fuck you no more. And when I am done, perhaps I will take you down to the cattle car and watch while the other clowns fuck you one by one until you are so full that their juices run down your thighs. You will learn to show respect for me. For my art and my craft.”
Pinning her hands to the bed, he entered her quickly and roughly. She screamed and spit in his face. He slapped her again and left her ear ringing as he wiped the spittle from her face and continued to pound her hard and fast.
“You hate clowns? Well you have a clown inside of you right now. How does that feel? A fucking clown is raping you and he’ll continue to do it until it pleases him to stop.

6. Legacy. Authored by Michael Noe

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
122 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1461016007 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1461016002
BISAC: Fiction / Thrillers / Crime

A SHAMEFUL DEVIL OF A DIRTY SECRET is something that two men share. A legacy is created not out of madness, but of the purest desire. Take a vivid journey into the mind of the killer and his biggest fan. Inside is the real truth and it can set you free. See as the knife plunges over and over again. Lap at the wounds of the dark words of this found journal. Watch all you want. Taste what you dare not have. But once you see, you are in collusion. Keep reading and the guilt will stain. But it will be BLOODY. GOOD. FUN.

7. Middle Age RAE of Fucking Sunshine. Authored by Dani Brown
List Price: $9.95
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692330708 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692330704
BISAC: Fiction / Crime

Rae is her name.
Our support group of embittered and most likely deranged women are going to kidnap, torture, disembowel and finally kill the woman who has ruined all our lives. As foul and as grotesque as she is, she acts like she’s Queen of the Bean.
Rae, her buck-tooth grin and rosy cheeks of middle age acne reflected winter sun. Straw-like blonde hair obscured by the veil and tiara she enjoyed parading around in. She walked past our window with sickening confidence oblivious to us and our weak tea.
Rae. Everything was always about Rae. Was she a princess today, or was she a bride? Did she know or care? Did it even matter? We wished we could be that delusional and walk around with an air of not giving a damn.
Rae believes she is above the pain she has caused. Beyond the whimpering of her victims. Out of reach of vengeance. Our support group of women do not agree. Judgement day is here for Rae.
Our support group will enjoy every moment of agonizing torment and misery we will force her to endure.
Rae has got it coming.

8. MorbidbookS SciFi Anthology: 2013. Authored by Steven Scott Nelson 
 https://www.createspace.com/4122178
List Price: $6.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
154 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1481918879 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1481918877
BISAC: Fiction / Science Fiction / General

~ CARGO CONTAINS: ~
Space-wrecked on Venus by Neil R. Jones
For All the Marbles by Rev. Steven Rage
Tony and the Beetles by Philip K. Dick
Acid Bath by Vaseleos Garson
The Butterfly Kiss by Arthur Dekker Savage
The Moon Destroyers by Monroe K. Ruch
From some of the giants of the Golden Age to the darkest of dystopian noir, MorbidbookS SciFi Anthology will take you from hopeful space travel to living hand-to-mouth in the despair beneath the Earth.
Welcome to your future.

9. Murderland. Authored by Garrett Cook
List Price: $14.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White Bleed on Cream paper
294 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0615855073 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0615855075
BISAC: True Crime / Murder / Serial Killers

~ Jeremy Jenkins is a pharmacist living a nightmare. ~
America has made serial killing provisionally legal. What was once a crime is now a game. Juvenile delinquent Reapkids dressed as history’s deadliest murderers roam the streets causing chaos. Cannibal Godless Jack Cavanagh is on every morning show. And Jeremy’s girlfriend Cass, the love of his life, can’t get enough of it. Could be worse. Creatures from another dimension could be infiltrating ours getting our women pregnant. He could live with the guilt of being history’s most prolific serial killer. The fate of a world not worth saving could rest on his broad shoulders. Maybe they are. Maybe he is. Maybe it does.

10. My Lovely Wife. Authored by Dani Brown
List Price: $9.95
5.5″ x 8.5″ (13.97 x 21.59 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
108 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692259566 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692259562
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

He had to have her the moment he saw her trachea ring. Six months later she was his lovely wife. He performed his duties as a husband and she as a wife. He tolerated a house filled with references to her late first husband and the children they had together. He put up with her prudish ways. He waited. He was patient. He planned. He was adaptable. He was rewarded over the course of a week in her basement. He turned his perverse sexual fantasies of worms and maggots and her lovely crusty trachea ring into a gruesome reality.

11. Peachy Gizzard and the Spheres of Glammeth. Authored by Andrew Coulthard
List Price: $9.95
5.5″ x 8.5″ (13.97 x 21.59 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
102 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692268285 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692268286
BISAC: Fiction / Science Fiction / Action & Adventure

When the winds blew I felt them blowing through me, when the land shook, it was my corpus that trembled. When the tides ebbed and flowed I became more shore and more sea. I was day and night as the sun and moon described the steps of their dancing within me. Just as I could see all the world at once, I was all of these things at once, and the motion of an entire world formed the foundation of my stillness.
I’d travelled through the Sphere of Glammeth, descended through the Guardian, and then through the Grey-Man, fallen through a hole that pierced all the worlds. I had followed the stream to its source and become the worlds through which I’d fallen; now in completion I dwelt in gaps between overlapping pulses of time; the multitude within the one.
And thus I remained for all time in stillness and motion, fullness and emptiness. Whole in content, whole in process, whole in time. Seeing all, being all, my eyes the eyes of the cosmos, in ultimate being.

12. Pharmacide. Authored by Steven Scott Nelson RRT

List Price: $14.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
410 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1463797447 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1463797443
BISAC: Fiction / Thrillers / Medical

~ It looks like Carolyn and Mark are in deep, deep shit. ~
Mark and Carolyn live in an alternate 1989 where Ronald Reagan is on his fourth presidential term. The USA has a rigid, long-standing caste system and abortions were never made legal. Being homeless is a crime that is punishable by imprisonment in an internment camp the inmates call Tent City. Most of Mark’s ER patients are inmates at this camp and are victims of a new disease these illegals call the Transient Flu. This deadly and rapidly spreading disease mutates with each new host, collecting information, changing code. The disease evolves lightning quick, spreading like pond ripples and infecting everyone. No one is safe. Mark and Carolyn dig too deep and uncover the brutal truth: Transient Flu was purposely made and is one hundred percent fatal. Carolyn’s employer, Hudson-Smythe Pharmaceuticals, discovers the chain of evidence and traces the pharmacide back to Hudson-Smythe and the crime of the century. Cost is no object and deadly force is authorized.
Yes. Carolyn and Mark are in deep, deep shit.

13. Physician Most Ravenous. Authored by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage
List Price: $5.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
118 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1494317287 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1494317281
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~ For your dining and dancing amusement comes a sick and twisted story of the Black Death. ~ During the height of England’s Bubonic Plague an ancient Evil Force strolls into London-Town in the form of a would-be doctor. It could smell the blood from miles away, wanting only to help. At the hospital where he cares for the victims of this Black Death, the ill come to him unimpeded. They arrived and fell by the scores. With the help of his ever-faithful assistant, Sightless Agness, a most ravenous cares for them all. Eating his way through an entire hospital, he treats them until there is nothing left. Nothing save their empty eye sockets, a few pounds of leeched bleached bones and some bolts of old dried-out flesh-leather parchment. But the eyes? The eyes of the dead? Sightless Agnes keeps for herself. Seems Fair.

14. PILATE: Director’s Cut. Authored by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage
List Price: $11.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
326 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1481917902 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1481917900
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~Pontius Pilate is cursed to be a vampire. Life after life after life.~ And for the Plata dealing Pilate, his life is more like a death sentence. His only chance surviving is to keep on selling his monthly quota of Plata. This new man-made narcotic is a potent speed-ball designed to amp up the user, while also numbing the conscience into euphoric oblivion. To nullify the pain. To stifle the torture. To run and to hid from all the anguish inside. PILATE is a drug lord vampire in this re-telling of Christ’s final days. When given yet another chance to save the Earth’s latest Christ, will the re-incarnated Pilate choose to protect Her? Or to save his drug business, his money and his friends, will the modern day Pilate instead choose to wash his hands of the whole ordeal? Pilate shall have to allow the torture and death of a Holy Person in order to save his very own life. ” For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” This is a truly Brutal Bible Tale. A dismal post-industrial future. A look at man defiled and in decline. Evil has arrived and Dominion has been taken by the damned, the demons, vampires, vicious ghosts and strange halflings. The cast-aside by-products of all the debauched rampages and scientific sins against nature. Sex, drugs, and broken souls are the only trade commodities left.

15. Pills-in-a-Little-Cup: GrayScale Version.
Authored by Reverend Steven Rage, and Steven Scott Nelson

List Price: $12.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
356 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1496028136 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1496028139
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy
Be the first freak on your block to acquire this singular and unexpurgated exquisite culling of The Grim Reverend Steven Rage’s favorite ‘meds’. Enjoy this one-of-a-kind vivid look into the twisted mind of The Most Depraved Writer In Print as he captains you through the intoxicating stain of his wicked imagination.
Included are numerous Photos, Paintings and Illustrations embellished with dramatic grayscale that enhance these iniquitous and magnificent Dark Fantasy fables.
Beginning with a complete novella of Pontius Pilate re-incarnated as a blood drinking drug dealer in the Midwest’s most notorious ghetto. The Harbor is a similar, howbeit much darker version of Mayberry. If Andy, Barney Opie and Aunt Bea resided in a drug infested, post-industrialized urban Hell-Hole with a sky-high body count, that is. Come see and enjoy the vampire’s journey to horrific self-discovery. A evil and foreboding locale, folks are murdered there for less than nothing and, oh yeah: vampires feed there, too. A place where drugs are slung, deals go down and Pilate alone, once again, stands between the profoundly wicked machinations of the organized crime power structure and the death of a reincarnated Immanuel. Will he wash his hands in this life as he has done from the beginning and down through the ages? His drugs, his money and his very life at stake. Not to mention his soul. But life is full of tough choices. Especially if you are the modern dope-slinging version of the ancient Roman Prelate.
Next comes a sick and twisted story of the Black Death. During the height of England’s Bubonic Plague an ancient Evil Force strolls into London-Town in the form of a would-be doctor. It could smell the blood from miles away, wanting only to help. At the hospital where he cares for the victims of this Black Death, the ill come to him unimpeded. They arrived and fell by the scores. With the help of his ever-faithful assistant, Sightless Agnes, a most ravenous cares for them all. Eating his way through an entire hospital, he treats them until there is nothing left. Nothing save their empty eye sockets, a few pounds of leeched bleached bones and some bolts of old dried-out flesh-leather parchment. But the eyes? The eyes of the dead? Sightless Agnes keeps for herself. Seems Fair.
And then our adventures continue: Inky nefarious figments of playing God. Ride with The Reverend as you dally with malevolent spirits, pet aborted fetuses, carnal ghosts, evil grandfathers, hospital-hall hunting serial killers and , oh so much more.
Finally culminating with another full novella. It is a maddening peek behind The Good Doctor’s post-apocalyptic Harbor dug deep underground, beneath the bitter frozen Earth and bear witness to a society ripping at the seams. A not-so-safe haven where monsters and demons dally with the remaining humans. One of the last makeshift asylums left on this planet. Jesus has come, gathered his favorites and loading them into the moving van bound for Forevermore, has skipped out on the rent without a word nor nary a backward glance. Leaving the world to Damnation like an absentee slum-lord while Hell itself has opened wide, belching its denizens forth. The doomed and damned can now come and go as they please. A stronghold where lifeblood is bought for a song.
This incredible edition is replete with all The Ragiastic elements you have come to expect from The Grim One. Proliferate drug-consumption, non-consensual extreme intercourse and all the profane creatures that go bump in the night.
Get in, grab hold and hang on.
This rare sui generis tome shall delight the monstrous aberration in everyone.
16. rage primer: Dark Shit from the Most Depraved Writer in Print.
Authored by Reverend Steven Rage
List Price: $5.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
128 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1456553432 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1456553437
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~ Five Very Wicked Shorts. Brought to you with love and blood from The Grim Reverend Steven Rage, the ‘Most Depraved Writer in Print’. ~
Through the sheer shock of his presentation, Rage forces readers to consider the alternatives, to look at the garbage in the streets, to see what is swept into the gutters at night right before all decent people awake to see another cleaned up version of the day. Depravity at its finest, but really the stories are loads of fun …

17. Spun Monkey’s Digest. Authored by The Spun Monkey

List Price: $6.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
134 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1461167532 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1461167531
BISAC: Humor / Topic / Adult
~ Completely inappropriate humor coupled with dark poetry and flash fiction. It’s more fun than you can shake a dead kitten at. ~
18.  Tales of Depravity and Wickedness. Authored by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage
List Price: $6.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
146 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1484880647 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1484880641
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Dark tales of exquisite violence, rough tricks, narcotics consumption, evil ghosts and drug-snuffling demons. Evil grandfathers and animal-human hybrid clones. Morbid serial killer stalking night darkened hallways of an unsuspecting hospital. Life underground following the frozen apocalypse. Tales of ancient blood-thirsty vampires and Roman decadence. Enjoy all of the hardcore, dystopic, viscerally violent stories. Not for easily offended. 

19. The Fall of a Blood Drinking Drug Dealer. Authored by Reverend Steven Rage

List Price: $7.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
130 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1456508357 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1456508350
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~ Dominion has been taken by those who walk as the damned, demons, Halflings, products of debauched rampages and sins against nature, and then, of course, the vampires. Sex, drugs, and broken souls are the only things of value. Life is more like a disease, and the only salvation is the right amount of Plata to numb the conscience and, if one is lucky, to bring on a cleverly disguised demise.
Introduce into this world a savior, a light for a dark world. Rejected in one life as a man, rejected in another as spiritual being, now returning in the form of woman, Immanuel returns to give God’s creation another chance. Following religious folklore, parables, and beliefs, Rage presents the readers with a God who truly is the Shepherd that leaves no sheep behind. While this tale is deeply woven with the intricacies of a dark, drug-infested world ruled by evil forces, this is the story of a lost sheep. All are God’s children, even the most foul creatures who by their own will have become so through their spiritual and physical copulation with the Devil, and as such, in God’s mercy, still are given a chance to be saved. ~

20. The Mercenaries of Havenshaw Crypt. Authored by D. G. Sutter

List Price: $9.95
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
138 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692360408 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692360409
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Jonathan Moon: “D.G. Sutter takes you into a sticky dark world inhabited with wonderfully weird characters in The Mercenaries of Havenshaw Crypt. Get ready for wicked action and quick wit when you wander through Mr. Sutter’s imagination.”

Jordan Krall: “D.G. Sutter is a Satanic Tolkien, spinning an entertaining story in an infernal world of grotesqueries and humor.”

FOR SO LONG as anyone could remember, The Flagrant Five have ruled the land with an aggressive hand—enslaving children, destroying the wilderness—but Father Necrocious is tired of it all. One of his worst enemies (and a member of the Flagrant Five), Manservant Genesis, has escaped his imprisonment as a shadow.Therefore, he’s enlisted the help of a ragtag group of fabricated Mercenaries to turn the fascists to shadows. The annual Dictators’ Ball is pending (a battle in which children are used as pawns to determine the fate of the free world), and the brothers plan to stop the gala before it can commence. As they weave their way through the cartoonish landscape they will fight with their options to either trap the Flagrant Five with their shadow guns, or disobey their creator’s orders and finally kill the Five for good.

21. The Nightmare. Authored by Rebeka E. Morin, Edited by Steven Scott Nelson

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
152 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1500818364 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1500818364
BISAC: Juvenile Fiction / Horror & Ghost Stories

She ran full speed now; stomping her bare feet against the cold, smooth, stone walkway with no idea where she was headed. Her breathing ached; her lungs burning as she ran for her life.
Suddenly she slipped on a wet spot and land on her side. She moaned in agony. She glanced down to the huge red mark that appeared on the cap of her knee. It stung a little.
But how could she feel something if this was only a dream?
She gritted her teeth as she rubbed her knee, and then she heard him as he came towards her. She glanced up, waiting for the crazed stalker to come out of hiding, and spotted him lurking in the shadows instead. The only thing that she saw was his eyes and the side of his face.
Scary as ever.
He looked at her and grinned wickedly, the overcasting shadows of the outer corner of the stone wall, combined with the flickering light above them, created a deadly feature across the side of his face. He sees her lying helpless. He chuckled eerily, and instantly raised his hand. Her eyes widened to the sight of the gleaming sharp knife in his grasp. He even held it up for her to see it better.
She stared up at him and then to the knife, panting in fear. Her heart pounded throughout her body as he chuckled once more saying deeply,
“Oh excellent. I’ve found you . . .”

22. Transmatic. Authored by Chris Kelso

List Price: $9.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
124 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0615964263 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0615964265
BISAC: Fiction / Science Fiction / Cyberpunk

“…part-time hitman/ exterminator, Ignius Ellis’s dream is to buy a candy-apple red Nova Supreme. In the process of trying to earn enough cash to make his dream come true he gets sucked into the rough world of Visitacion Valley, SF. When the tenants in his apartment complex reveal their various extracurricular activities this take an even more bizarre twist and Ellis soon becomes acquainted with the nightmarish Slave State dimension…

 23. Tumour-Djinn. Authored by Zoltan Komor

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
140 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692347539 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692347534
BISAC: Fiction / Magical Realism

TUMOUR-DJINN:  I ORDER A magic lamp from the internet. According to the seller, it is good as new, and after rubbing the thing, a djinn will come out and give me three wishes. A few days pass, and the package arrives. A sign on the lamp’s side informs me that the product is not suitable for children under the age of three, because they can swallow the small pieces. I don’t know what tiny parts a genie could possibly have, but nowadays they write this warning to everything.
I begin to rub the lamp, but what comes out fails to meet even my lowest expectations. Along with some dark smoke a thin, bald guy crawls out. His skin is all grey, the eyes are colorless pebbles. He hands me his medical charts, like it was a business card or something, which reads: Stage 4 Lung Cancer.
“I never smoked one cigarette in my life!” adds the genie, and begins to cough.
I don’t know what to do with my new cancerous djinn. I keep telling him my wishes, but he just stares in silence, or talks about nonsense.
“I want a tree which grows money as leaves!” I command him.
“I never realized, life can be so short. We are just putting the bricks, one into another, then we try to climb over the wall that we created. But it is so big. It covers the sun.” he mutters, drawing in the air with his pencil-like fingers.
“I want a sports car!” I try again, but he just looks out in the window, gazing the clouds, telling me: “Can cancer grow in birds? Does it kill owls in the forest, or eagles in the mountains? The deer maybe? The giant fish on the bottom of the sea?”
With a desperate look I say: “I want a swimming pool.”
But the djinn begins to cough up blood, and it is damned sure, I won’t get any swimming pool today.

24. Twenty-One: A Thesis. Authored by E. Jayne Forish

List Price: $9.95
8″ x 10″ (20.32 x 25.4 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
108 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692222614 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692222618
BISAC: Fiction / Contemporary Women

“The Routine has this inherent tendency to perpetuate lies, and I speak only in thinly veiled euphemisms — hanging out with friends means going to the bar; being tired means too many sleepless nights on amphetamine; going grocery shopping means robbing Price Chopper blind; filling a prescription means visiting my dealer; going to the bank means pawning my possessions — but refer to them not as “lies;” rather, label them as weak ex-cuses utilized to justify my erratic behaviors.
Not that the distinction between lies and excuses even matters. My locations and actions mean little to the lives that I infect, for I manipulate my stories into such bizarre versions of actuality that no one seems to question their authenticity, thereby validating my words under the general principle that facts are stranger than fiction. Besides, the language of lies often involves a certain element of truth, mere embellishments of the life that I dream to live – all-night hotel parties, never-ending supplies of coke and meth, hundreds of dollars to spend frivolously, high-class bars at expensive ski resorts, private chemists and personal chauffeurs, fame and fortune, and immunity to the consequences of my behaviors.”

25. Vengeance of the Vigilante Roller Sluts. Authored by Gregor Cole

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White Bleed on Cream paper
118 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692293843 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692293841
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

The hands of the girls were inside of each-others zip front grey boiler suits and they sat in the blood from where Sonny’s face collided with the surface. The brunette had a finger smear of it next to her mouth.
“You two sluts put each other down and go tell Moira that Sonny’s done. I’m coming in, just got a little business to attend to first.”
The two girls jumped to attention with a crack of sixteen roller skate wheels on the hard tile floor. They straightened themselves up; wiping away saliva and smudged pink lipstick; zipped up their clothes and teased their hair back into shape with black glossed finger nails.
The two girls sounded off in unison, “Yes sir, Sergeant Tea-pot.” As the two started to leave the big blond grabbed the shoulder of the red head and pulled her back.
“Not you Fire-Crotch, all this fucking blood has got me going.” She started to unbuckle the belt on her camouflage hot pants. “Down you go, bitch!”

26. Warface: A Roller Derby Mystery. Authored by Steven Scott Nelson

List Price: $5.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
92 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1480013285 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1480013285
BISAC: Fiction / Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths

~ I’m feeling down and dirty, feeling kind of mean, so I give those fans my middle finger. Those poor bastards go nuts. My team looks at me in awe. My coach frowns and the opposing one begins to furiously scratch out new plays. The Warface is feeling her oats tonight and they all know they’re in for a deep snag.
I see our opponents and I almost feel sorry for the poor bastards. Their fans can’t help them. Their coach can’t help them. I’m going to run them off their own track in front of their own fans and there is not one thing they can do about it.
I see my counterpart positioning herself on the outside line. I’ve got my eye on her and I’ve got her number. She is going nowhere. I’m going to body check her narrow ass off the track and into the third row. I hear the second whistle sound.
The jammers are starting to move behind us as I veer toward her. I lower my right shoulder. She sees me at the last second. I smile as her eyes open wide. I get speed, lean in deep and hit her. My jammer, Brute, slides up my left side. I see the opposing jammer shimmy through the wall and I give chase.
Silly rabbit, no one gets past the Warface.
Not tonight they don’t. ~

27. What’s Eating Keegan The Vegan. Authored by Justin Hunter

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
196 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692356777 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692356770
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Keegan is a late-night public access radio show host, sexual deviant, and militant vegan. He has grown tired of his vegan cause being treated with apathy by the portly, meat-gorging, residents of the small town of Breen Gay, Wisconsin.
The time is ripe for Vegan vengeance.
Keegan harvests roundworms from a local vagrant and mutates them using chemicals stolen from the meat packing plant. He infests the populace with the voracious, parasitic carnivores. Keegan knows that the only way for the people of Breen Gay to eliminate the parasites is to starve them of meat. It is with great expectation that he awaits the oncoming utopia of Veganism.
However, the mutant roundworms will not die easily. The problems for the people of Breen Gay have only just begun.

28. Wicked Candy. Authored by Alex S. Johnson

List Price: $9.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
126 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0615954165 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0615954162
BISAC: True Crime / Murder / Serial Killers

~ Allow me to open the door, guide you inside, and introduce you to a little Wicked Candy. ~
“This is a sweet designed for the discerning Bizzarro fan’s tastes, and I promise, you will not be disappointed!”      –Mimi Williams, author of Beautiful Monster

“A short collection that both traverses the genre lines and melds them together into one masterpiece. Jam packed with horror, laughs, pop culture history and more, this one is a must have for lovers of the macabre, the bizarre and the hilarious.”      –Jeff O’Brien, author of Bigboobenstein

29. Worms in the Needle. Authored by Jonathan Moon

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
166 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0615956701 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 061595670X
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~ That’s the last time she gets the bigger worm. ~
Once their flesh flakes away the angels collapse into puddles of hissing goop and withered petals blow into them hurried along by unseen winds. My spit looses its sweet taste to the black flavor of ash. The glowing birds in the bright orange sky burst into small sparkly novas. The sky itself weeps and tears, streaking down like a ruined painting as the dismal gray of life wheezes back before my eyes. I don’t blink; praying silently for one last desperate sensation of the high.
Lila feels it too. She writhes on the mattress next to me; her moans of ecstasy warping into groans that capture the hollowness of our souls.
Tears form in her eyes and I can almost feel the lump in her throat. It’s gone and she wants to cry. I’d rather chase down more Worms than cry about it but everybody reacts to the Worms differently. I slip away to my own neon colored utopia where things with wings fan me and comfort me when the living neon worm dissolves under my skin. Lila told me once they wrap around her like a giant fuzzy neon hug. I imagine her high shedding off her like snake skin and flaking to the filthy floor next to the mattress. Her high sounds better than mine. More Fun. That’s the last time she gets the bigger worm.

 
30. You Morbid Westphal. Authored by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage

List Price: $6.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
146 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1481919463 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1481919466
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~ Born whole from the rectum of a dying patient, Morbid silently stalks the hospital’s hallways, heinously dispatching the most helpless of patients and in the most painfully repulsive of manners. ~
In the meantime, in order to pay for his family and home that includes his ghost step-father Sammy and his pet aborted fetus Chip, Westphal has to ingest mounds of dangerous narcotics to get through his night shifts. Barely hanging on to his Care Tech gig by his fingernails, the last thing Westphal needs is to be accused of Morbid’s evil deeds. You, on the other hand, simply want to find some solace. Terminally ill from a virulent infection, and dependent on Life Support, all You beg for a peaceful and dignified demise. Shirk has other plans for You. The ancient drug-snuffling demon makes You relive all of your deadly and venial sins as he tortures You. Night after night. Until eternal Damnation comes calling.

 39.  The Place In Between, Authored by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage
List Price: $12.99
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692530320 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692530320
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

“Del, a man who, when confronted with evidence that his wife was cheating, unsuccessfully attempts suicide and ends up confined to a wheelchair, unable to speak or even breathe on his own. And then he’s released to the care of his cheating wife and her lover. To the outside world, they’re a devoted wife and good friend. Privately, they taunt, torment and torture the helpless Del–until a demon shows up to help him. Ah, but it’s not quite that simple: Rage starts the story out with the Euripides quote, “The gods visit the sins of the fathers upon the children.” And Rage weaves this theme into the characters’ backstories, giving the story an extra dimension.”
~Ray Holland, Amazon Review.

“Del’s wife Luci is having an affair with her drug supplier, Sancho. Sancho and Luci eventually manage to get custody of the invalid Del, and Sancho uses this as payback time from their navy days (apparently Del had done something to ruin Sancho’s career). The story becomes an extreme torture tale, one that made me wince a few times…but Del manages to turn the tables via a Faust-ish deal with a demon. Rage also gives another fresh spin here on ghosts, making this a perfect blend of hardcore horror and Bizarro goodness.”
~Nick Cato, Amazon Review.

38.  Slaves Shall Serve: There Is No Safe Word, Authored by Antonio Salerongo Di Pietro

List Price: $17.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
400 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1517124663 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1517124662
BISAC: Fiction / Erotica / BDSM

It wasn’t long before the contents of his mysterious trunk were revealed to her. It was true, they were props, and some of them might even have been used in the circus. Whips and crops, handcuffs, gags and blindfolds. He applied each of them to her liberally and with sadistic abandon. She took to each of them and craved more.
This was the other side of Salero, the one he hid, the dark side. Publically, the man loved and craved the laughter and applause of children. He delighted in playing his character for them and ate up the love that they gave him. He mugged for them. He danced and pranced around the ring, getting them to clap along with him as he performed his tricks and stunts. His patented pratfalls brought gales of laughter.
But as much as he craved the laughter of children, he also craved the cries and screams of women as they submitted to his own particular brand of sadism. He wielded a whip better than any lion tamer in the business. It thrilled him to watch the firm young flesh of a woman writhe and twist in delicious agony as his ropes bit deeply into them and his crops left myriads of latticework markings on their bodies. Their anguish was his delight.

37.  Toenails, Authored by Dani Brown

List Price: $12.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692518304 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692518304
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

There was a time when toenails were plentiful and I could swallow one down while pressing the button for eight more minutes of blissful sleep.
Clamminess washed over me. There was no way I would be able to make it to work like this. I needed toenails to start my morning right. In the grips of withdrawal I could not think of anything other than toenails and scoring toenails. Toenails were all that mattered.
Ripping the duvet away from the wife was the difficult part. She held it in death’s grip beneath her chin and tucked between her legs. I became used to never having any blanket – not even a little patch. I would crank up the heat when I woke with my midnight toenail cravings regardless of the season; a little bit of spite courtesy of good ol’ dad. My wife would still be reluctant to liberate the duvet despite sleeping in a pool of her own sweat that turned the flakes of dead skin into slush. I once tried to satisfy my cravings with this skin slush; day-long diarrhoea left me on the toilet and the family had to use the outdoor one.
Shaking, it was more difficult to pry the duvet away from her. The withdrawals became worse each day. It seemed her grip on the duvet became tighter as the withdrawals became worse – her subconscious conspiring against me. The back of her mind knew I was no good for her and should trade her in for a younger model.
I only needed access to her feet. Toe jam wasn’t as good a substitute for toenails as dick cheese but I needed to make it into work today and every other day for the rest of the fucking year. The board of directors were the biggest bunch of loser arse-ferrets this world has ever seen. I could not even provide an accurate description of what it was I did all day or a clear title for the job that would be on the line if I had a sick day.

36.  Damnation Beneath The Frozen Apocalypse, Authored by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage

List Price: $12.99
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
142 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692530337 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692530339
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

TWO CUTS OF BIZARRO HARDCORE HORROR from the macabre mind of the grim Reverend Rage. Three sordid tales of demons, revenge, botched suicide, organic narcotics, torture, halflings, freaks, vampires and a post-apocalyptic society coming apart at its seams. TWO trips to the dark side that’ll leave you reeling yet unable to look away.

‘DAMNATION BENEATH THE FROZEN APOCALYPSE’ we return to The Harbor and learn more about The Good Doctor (responsible for creating drugs and mutants) and his created servant, the scene-stealing hybrid man/chimp, Tugmunkee. This one was a bit of a chore to follow, but in the end Rage brings it all together. While some people in the bizarro community frown upon stories centered around drug use, this one works as the “tripping” scenes are just a side-note to the real weirdness.

In ‘BLOOD AND BUBBLEGUM,’ we’re introduced to some seriously strange characters who are involved in an ever-growing organic narcotics trade, including protagonist Juan and a fecal-demon that lives in his rectum. This is by far the weirdest entry here, and features a fresh look at vampirism.

M O R B I D B O O K S . R E A D  L I K E  T H E  D E V I L .

35.  Welcome To New Edge Hill, Authored by Dani Brown

List Price: $14.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
140 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692575406 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692575405
BISAC: Fiction / Black Humor

“My moustache twitched in an effort to escape the confines of a bucket of cream, hair ointment and the extensions I had put in last week. It wanted to compete with Teddy’s natural face locks and show that it, too, could stand proud.
The hair on my arms had only run of the mill body lotion to keep it in place, which in the unexplained circumstances I found myself in with Teddy Dick that late summer morning, was of complete uselessness. It stood up on end.
I looked over at Teddy. The desire to see a facial hair out of place, snap a picture and post it online was too strong to resist. But his face hair was perfect, as always, leaving my heart to sink and ponder what I must look like (I refused to confirm my suspicions by looking in the mirror). The hair on his arm closest to me was in a state similar to my own. At least not everything about him was perfect. It was confusing that someone could be so perfect and yet, still be such a dickhead.”

START HERE for the Newest MorbidbookS Titles on AMAZON. Print and Kindle!

34.  Pickles, Authored by Gregor Cole

List Price: $12.99
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
140 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692530313 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692530312
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

THE LAST LUMP OF CRYSTALLISED CHEMICAL crackled away inside the burnt up light bulb.
Fingers covered with soot clung to the makeshift pipe as his painted lips sucked out the smoke; the flame from the trembling disposable lighter catching the glitter in his blue afro. His eyes sunk into the smudged grease paint like piss holes in the snow.
Pickles the clown slumped back into his chair as the smoke worked its magic in his lungs.
The chemical being sucked up like a sponge by his near to kaput alveolar membrane into the pulmonary capillary’s and into his blood stream. It rushed towards his brain adding yet another tiny black spot of damage to his grey matter.
His eyes rolled up into his head as his body shivered from the first wave of intoxication and the world around him flushed away.
He was buzzing from his big toe to his last hair follicle, a sensation of euphoric rapture as if his entire body was being licked by a million amateur porn starlets. His limp penis twitched with a pulse of stimuli from the drug signalling his return to reality and his eyes rolled back into the real world. The buzz passed as quickly as it had come leaving Pickles a little disorientated but still high as shit. Pickles had voided his bladder into his sweatpants. “Aw, fuck it!”
He got up dizzy with the effects of the junk he had bought from Dominic the pimp earlier that morning and staggered towards the bathroom to fetch a towel. He pulled down the soaked sweatpants and threw them onto a heap of unwashed laundry.
He washed his dick and his inner thighs in the sink with cold water then stared off into the mirror. The grotty bathroom looked like a stained glass window behind his gaunt made-up face as the residual effect of the drug changed his visual perception.
He walked back out into the hallway; he would need cigarettes and some coffee, maybe a hit or two of sleeping tablets. The chemical in his blood would wear off soon enough and the comedown was hard.
Pickles then stepped bare foot into a pile of cold cat shit.

MORBIDBOOKS. READ LIKE THE DEVIL.

33.  Mother F*ing Black Skull of Death, Authored by Matthew Vaughn

List Price: $12.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692585573 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692585575
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Pulling into the parking lot is a massive semi, with a huge trailer painted with gory pictures of impaled bodies and a pile of severed heads. There’s a huge silver skull near the back that has the words ‘Mother’ and ‘Fucker’ where its eye sockets should be, and ‘Black Skull of Death’ for a mouth. The truck pulls around, away from the front of the store. I can see the doors on the back of the trailer as the driver backs the rig towards us. It’s a painting of a naked woman with huge tits. She’s covered in blood and sitting on a massive pile of skulls, holding a can of Mother Fucking Black Skull of Death between her legs. I’m instantly hard as a rock.

32.  Ichthyic in the Afterglow, Authored by Jason Wayne Allen.

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692321126 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692321128
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

In the afterglow of a world that was, and will never be again… Clem is a suicidal mime, degenerating into a fish. Cassie is a teenage brat, pregnant with a child that seems to center around mysterious cults devoted to cats and dogs.

“In ICHTHYIC IN THE AFTERGLOW, Jason Wayne Allen has selected elements from Robert W. Chambers’ THE KING IN YELLOW and H.P. Lovecraft’s fictional dream-realms and skillfully constructed a futuristic nightmare world that gleams like a poisoned river with an oil-slick spectrum of toxic colors. Move over, William S. Burroughs: you may have prepared a NAKED LUNCH, but now Allen is serving up an orgiastic smorgasbord of decadent horrors and wonders.”

– Mark McLaughlin, Author of BEST LITTLE WITCH-HOUSE IN ARKHAM and HIDEOUS FACES, BEAUTIFUL SKULLS

MORBIDBOOKS. READ LIKE THE DEVIL.

 

31.  The Whorehouse That Jack Built.Authored by Kevin Sweeney

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
172 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692506295 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692506292
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

It was a whorehouse, but not one open to just anyone. To get there you had to be dying or insane. The services offered were all offered for the same price, which was everything you had. There were paths there that only those who had crossed the border into the Undiscovered Country could find, if they knew the landmarks to follow, the signs to watch for.
Clem followed and watched and two days ago his mule had done died of exhaustion and it was just him and Lady keepin’ on who knew how and finally they came to a dead town with no name at twilight and a whorehouse with a sign above the door that Clem could not read:

A SOILED DOVE IN A CAGE
PUTS ALL HEAVEN IN A RAGE

A whorehouse run by demons. A whorehouse that offered the greatest pleasures a man could ever want… in exchange for everything he had.
Am I gonna do this? Am I really gonna…
The cancer in his belly twisted spikes through his impacted bowels and in front of him lay Lady, a sacrifice.
And Clem pushed that door open and stepped across the threshold.

 

40.  21: Based on a True Story, Authored by E. Jayne Forish, Edited by Steven Scott Nelson

List Price: $12.99
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
162 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1517126186 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1517126185
BISAC: True Crime / Hoaxes & Deceptions

This riveting tale of Alice Carroll — a drug-addled, bipolar wreck of a narrator — combines poetic prose against a nightmarish backdrop of drugs, lies, and madness. This nonfiction novella opens with a rather ordinary scene of Carroll’s 21st birthday and rapidly progresses throughout the months of the year into a story colored with excessive drug use, careless decision-making, exorbitant lying, and the drama & chaos that ensues from the combinations of such during any social interactions with friends, family, and foe. This well-written memoir is a work of art that generates writing styles from a variety of authors, often reminiscent of David Foster Wallace, through the unique utilization of footnotes, as well as Jean Paul Sartre, with diversions into the realms of existentialism, and William S. Burroughs, with references to habitual drug use as “The Routine” and undertones of the junk equation. I would highly recommend this book to anyone interested in the junkie subculture, creative nonfiction writing, or simply an individual who can appreciate a finely written piece of prose. A must-have for the bookshelves of a diverse batch of readers, “~21~: Real True Shit” is sure to keep the pages turning with surprise twists of fate through and through until one reach the rather bitter end.

FOR AMAZON KINDLE:
Order here for KINDLE titles from MorbidbookS. Read Like The Devil.

Order here for KINDLE titles from MorbidbookS. Read Like The Devil.

DEADLY FORCE, BOTFLIES and PRISON SEX.

•July 23, 2015 • Leave a Comment

 Let’ start with a nice review:

 CAT LOVER February 15, 2015 By Cat lover Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase

“One of the best books I’ve read in a very long time. If you want to read a book in one day, grab this one and be prepared for a sore back from the long time it takes to finish this book. As soon as I can get to a Wi-Fi, I will order more by this author.”
'click' on book cover image to get PHARMACIDE in Kindle and Print!

‘click’ on book cover image to get PHARMACIDE in Kindle and Print!

   Six-point-Three

Inside, the complex of the Phoenix Tent City was made up of the abandoned department stores that used to anchor the once thriving Park Central shopping mall. The inmates and their dependents used these huge emptied structures to erect their individual dwellings.
Tent City was reminiscent of African or Haitian shanty towns but only indoors. These dwellings were constructed with whatever materials could be gathered and thrown together. There were no fires, cooking, or smoking allowed inside the mall buildings of any kind. Other than those fire-code restrictions (because the fire dept. would not respond) it was pretty much a free-for-all.
Electricity and running water were provided for Tent City by the city of Phoenix. The juice as it was called by the inmates was controlled by the Peacekeepers from inside their full-sized station. Because of this control riots by the inmates were extremely rare. If one was in the offing, all the Peacekeepers had to do to exert their authority is to shut off the juice. They would do this for even the slightest infractions. The inmates did not want that. They all got very used to having the juice.
The Peacekeepers station was manned around the clock. It sat right up against the high wall where the outer parking lot of the mall used to be. The station was as far away from the stench and mayhem of the main buildings as it could possibly be and still be on the grounds of the City.
Nutrition for the inmates was provided for once a day, delivered via big-bellied helicopters. The great gray machines would hover to within a few feet of the asphalt. The doors would open and the food would be dumped out. It was simple fare such as pre-packaged sandwiches, burritos, corn dogs, pudding, gelatin, breakfast bars, toaster-pastries. Pretty much anything that was slow to rot.
The Peacekeepers used to stand by during the food drops, but it was far too dangerous now. They used to sit outside their station, not to preserve order, but for their amusement. It was entertaining for them to see inmates beating the crap out of each other for stale bags of chips and greasy beef sticks.
It all changed in one day a while back. A teenager made the horrible decision to rush the helicopter as soon as the drop began. A mob of hungry inmates joined the pursuit as they too rushed the helicopter. The big machine veered out of control, its blades tilting toward the asphalt of the parking lot. As it struck the hungry horde, the shimmering blades sliced cleanly through a few dozen bodies before barely managing to level off and escape.
The carnage left behind on the ground was grotesque. Some of the bigger body parts were still spurting hot arcs of arterial red. That stopped no one.
for other titles by SSN aka The Grim Rev. Steve Rage

for other titles by SSN aka The Grim Rev. Steve Rage

Without missing nary a beat, the hungry inmates searched the immediate area for food. The helicopter had departed and the drop was terminated. The brave crowd turned to a raging mob. When the few bits of packaged food that made it off the helicopter were consumed, that’s when shit turned real ugly.
Inmates over-turned the still bleeding body parts. When no more food could be had, they turned opportunistic. They fought over the warm body parts, even the bloody strands of clothing. Their faces were crimson and their eyes were mad. Those that were trampled were turned on as well. Shivs of all types came from all points. They cut into the flesh of both the quick and the dead.
The feeding frenzy was finally halted when the Peacekeepers fired a .50 cal tri-mounted rifle into the crowd.
When the riot was over, the dead were everywhere. Most of the fallen had been chewed on, the diners slipping back inside with their prizes of rent flesh. Some of the bones were picked completely clean. The Peacekeepers were stunned and taken aback by the sheer ferocity of the hungry inmates. That’s when the cops were approached by the Peoples Defense League.
The PDL was a well organized crew within the walls of Tent City. They masqueraded as a voice for the illegals. In truth, the PDL was a ruthless bunch of criminals who were in constant pursuit of Notes and power. They shared muscle with El Oso’s LCM, one of the oldest street gangs in Phoenix. Their combined membership was imposing, both in raw numbers as well as the ruthlessness of the rank and file. Members of both the PDL and LCM were jumped-in for life. They were hardcore, loyal to a fault, and armed to the teeth.
The Tent City inmates feared the PDL, almost as much as they feared the Peacekeepers themselves. Together, with their street-gang LCM ties from outside, the cops and the thugs from the PDL were unstoppable.
The PDL was strong enough to put up a good fight against the Peacekeepers, but that would never happen. It wouldn’t be cost-effective.
Following the helicopter incident, the cops and the PDL came together. At the well-guarded pow-wow, the two groups formed a mutually beneficial arrangement concerning the food drops. The PDL would peaceably gather together the daily drop of food. Then it would handle the distribution to the inmates for a price. The PDL split the proceeds of this venture with the Tent City Peacekeeping force.
The food distribution scheme worked out so well for the PDL. Their leadership approached the cops about other valuables such as day-passes, bus passes, food coupons and even the very rare and expensive medical vouchers. The Peacekeepers hated the housekeeping end of their jobs, so the PDL taking those burdens off the cops’ hands was just what the doctor ordered.
The cops still maintained control of the illicit transactions. The gambling, dope, moonshine stills, prostitution and baby and organ trafficking remained under the Peacekeeper’s thumb. That’s still where the real Notes lay.
The Peacekeepers kicked a little back to the PDL. The gang preferred their weekly allowance from the Peacekeepers to be in the form of drink, drugs and access to sex. It was a strong system that worked smoothly with nary a hitch. The ones that suffered the most were the inmates and especially the young ones. However, it still ran well because hungry children make marvelous prostitutes and drug mules.
The cops kept certain areas of the old mall completely off-limits to inmates. That’s were the legal citizens from the outside came to indulge in their red-light district-type desires.
Any drug you can name and a few that you can’t are available. Mules move narcotics in and out. Vicious looking home-made weapons are stock-piled and guarded night and day. There is even a full nursery and play room set-up for customers.
KidzPlay is by appointment only of course.
It’s been said that one could get whatever is desired inside Tent City. From a knob job to a newborn baby with eyes to match yours, you can get whatever your wretched little heart desires.
As with everything else, you must be able to pay.
Six–point-Four
Sara finally made it to the front of the line waiting to gain entrance. She walked toward the open gate on the east wall of Tent City. The fruits of her robbery and her mother’s medicine were hidden as deep and well as any young girl possible could.
The duty officer was leaning against the wall. He was talking with one of the PDL thugs and smoking a salad bowl. The pungent odor of the Mexican pot and the Afghani desert hash hung to those two clowns like an aura of bad tidings.
The cop eyed her as she approached. He noted, “Been to the library again, young tongue?” The PDL thug chuckled as he reached for the ceramic pipe.
Sara ignored the both of them, as per her mother’s wishes. She’d been told, time and time again, that talking back to them would only lead to trouble. And trouble, she knew only too well, they can do without.
“She’s growing up good,” she heard the cop remark as she was cleared for re-entry back into the land of the lost.
“Yes, sir,” replied the thug from the PDL, “Put a couple more years on her and she’ll be ready to gobble tricks like no one’s business.”
Sara began walking faster now, trying to get away from their voices.
“Why wait, that tight little ass will command a premium,” was the last thing she heard them say.
“Just you try it,” she whispered to herself. She turned a corner and their foul words were drowned out by the inmates. She was home.
Oh, goody, goody gum-fucking-drops…
Sara used a well worn mental path through the City to her mother’s tatty camping tent. She began by going through the wide entrance to her building. The former store still had the smudged faint outlines of Robinson’s-May above it. The smell assaulted her. Sara instinctively began breathing through her mouth.
Inmates were everywhere. Kids and dogs and even a few feral cats were running wild. The adults were scattered about in various stages of inebriation. Sara had to negotiate clumps of trash (some still moving) and around a seven year old child. She was dragging her legless stumps along the cold floor.
“Outta my way, muthafuck,” she said to Sara who gladly obliged.
Sara turned to watch the child dragging her stumps. Her duct-taped palms were slapping the cement floor.
Sara almost fell over a crazy, toothless man who was desperately trying to holler at a rigid store mannequin. He was drooling, foul smelling and trying to convince the mannequin that she should date him by counting off his attributes. There weren’t many, so it didn’t take long. Sara had the misfortune to witness the old coot mounting the mannequin.
All kinds of love in the City…
Sara found the escalator. She rode it unmolested to the second floor. Their dwelling was located in an area that was reserved for the sick.
Their home was little more than a camping tent attached to a thin scrap wood frame. Cardboard boxes made the walls and being indoors, there was no need for a roof besides a sheet. And that was to keep the flying feces from hitting you while sleeping.
Inside the ten by ten foot structure was everything Sara and her mother owned in this world. It wasn’t much. It consisted of a couple changes of clothes, two smelly sleeping bags, a tiny brown and white Chihuahua named ‘Beto’ and a few paperbacks books from the library.
Even with so little in the way of worldly possessions, either Sara’s mother or herself had to be in the shack at all times. Or else their very little would become someone else’s very little.
Sara came to the dirty sheet they used as a door. She saw Beto poking its nose through the bottom corner of the door. The tiny dog sniffed the air carefully. When he caught the scent of his master, he went through the sheet and sat at Sara’s feet. Beto was facing the wrong way.
“Hiya, Beto,” Sara said. The sound of his master’s voice allowed him to turn and face her. The dog put up one paw and with his head tilted slightly back he shivered with excitement. Beto looked like a cicada attempting to mate with a porch light. Then the little dog peed on itself. “Aw, poor Beto,” Sara said and picked up her little blind dog. She lovingly scratched his head and spoke to him, “Momma’s home now little one. Momma loves you, yes I do.”
Six-point-Five

Sara had found Beto when the blind dog was trying to cross a busy street. He heard the cars passing on either side of him and became confused. So, he put a tiny paw up to protect himself and peed.
Sara was ten years old when she saw the pitiful creature sitting in the middle of the street. She dodged the traffic to get to him. The cars honked their horns at her. She responded with vigorous one finger salutes at rear windows.
She let the small animal sniff her, before attempting to pick it up. The dog’s eyes on quick inspection looked so weird, but she was standing in the middle of a busy street. She needed to get out of harm’s way.
People in Phoenix can’t drive for shit!
Sara left the surface street and found a small, shady park nearby. They sat and rested at an empty picnic bench. Sara placed the dog on the table. She eyed it carefully. The dog sat fearfully, but it didn’t snap at her. Sara looked at the dog’s face. It was shaking from fear, but Sara’s used a soft, calming voice to reassure him.
The dog had its eyelids pushed all the way back into the ocular cavity. The dog’s eyes were huge, bulbous and poking out. The eyes had tiny holes instead of pupils. They opened and closed, looking every bit like they were smacking kisses at Sara.
Sara noticed how the dog’s huge eyes had tiny black spines when she peered in for an even closer inspection. They also moved independently of each while quivering about. When Sara reached out with a tentative touch, the dog’s crazy eye burrowed deeper into the socket. The little dog yelped with pain as the eye dug in, heading for the brain it seemed.
The pupil winked at Sara rapidly and brownish yellow pus oozed out around the eye and down the dog’s shivering face. Still he didn’t bite, but Sara got goose bumps all over her body.
Shit, I know what this is. It was in a journal at the library. Oh, God, this is so gross…
Sara removed a bit of cloth and a pair of tweezers from her backpack. The little dog had mature botfly larvae wedged in its ocular cavity, instead of eyeballs. Poor little dude. They had to come out.
Talking continuously to the little dog, Sara got a firm grip on the larvae’s kissing hole. Keeping the black spikes in mind, Sara pulled the little monster slowly out. The tweezers slipped briefly. The larvae tunneled fast, trying to tuck up its tail, but Sara grasped the alien beastie before it could disappear inside.
Centimeter by centimeter Sara pulled on the botfly, fighting against the brave little dog’s fear and pain and Sara’s own repulsion. The fattest part of the parasite larvae was deep inside, the black spikes digging in for purchase.
With a grunt, Sara pulled the botfly larvae all the way out. There was an explosion of pus, blood and the digested dog eye the botfly had been feeding on. The ocular cavity kept leaking foul-smelling infectious fluid, while Sara put the botfly on the table. It cringed at the bright light. The botfly spread its brand new wings to dry the gunk, preparing for departure. Sara trapped it. The extracted botfly was both longer and thicker than her thumb…. (end excerpt).

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2 New Cutting Edge Controversial Novels from MorbidbookS

•January 2, 2016 • Leave a Comment
'click' on image for MorbidbookS on Amazon.com

‘               click’ on image for MorbidbookS on Amazon.com

Extreme Fiction is by its very nature potentially both  delightful as well as what can be perceived as offensive. It can also often be affronting to one’s sensibilities. Humor that is ‘dark’ or ‘black’ in its inherent bottom line of its various form most often display the crux or at least the setting that: “people are just so awful…. especially to one another.

In fact as it is in many cases the work doesn’t even have to be humorous. While the 2 examples that MorbidbookS below are both considered Dark Humor, it does not have to be. Sometimes a despicable protag with uncontrolled id can be fascinating if the source material is handled well. Weird always has to make sense within the confines of itself. That’s the only way to bring in more readers.

Was is a different type is Crack Fic it changes some fundamental aspect of the source material, the “something’s different about this” It is an idea taken to the extreme. In its broadest sense, Crack Fic is any story whose premise and events would be completely implausible in Canon. These frequently include bizarre (or Bizarro) settings and explorations of improbable relationships between characters — not merely unlikely in canon, as in Foe Yay, but totally irrational and turned up a notch beyond that, as in Crack Pairing. Crack Fic is often considered the result of a challenge, either from someone outside the author or from the author him/herself: “This idea is completely unworkable, but I bet I can make it work.” The name stems from the notion that the author must have been ingesting some illegal substance just to think up the idea, let alone write it.

And speaking of here’s 2 titles from MorbidbookS which are controversial to the very extreme limits of Dark/Black Humor”:

1.

“Burn, Ferguson, Burn!”: Fun and Games Down at the Race Riots Authored by The Blackface Rioter

                       Quick link to Kindle copy

 

List Price: $19.99
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
172 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692606575 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692606572
BISAC: Fiction / Black Humor

FUN AND GAMES DOWN AT THE RACE RIOTS! We’ve had four blacks killed by cops in a short span of time that have made big news. The score is that two of them deserved it. Two of them didn’t. They were murdered by the cops. The Civil Rights Movement latched onto one of those assholes who totally fucking deserved it and polarized the races even more. If they only waited until one of the legit cop murders, then there would have been a whole lot of people holding hands and singing Kum-by-ya. Lucky for me, they didn’t.

Short excerpt to convince you to buy:

I didn’t spend much money on all that shit, but it was a lot to a poor-ass like me. I was hungry as fuck, but I knew I would have to make that one pizza last a couple days.

That’s the trouble with being poor when you haven’t always been poor. My mom and dad weren’t rich by any stretch, but they kept food on the table and a roof over my head all right. I didn’t think too much about it when I was small, but I think about it a lot now. When I lived with them I could eat a whole frozen pizza all by myself at one meal and not think anything of it. I like to eat a lot. They must have spent a fortune on food raising me. Like I said, I didn’t think about it then, but I don’t think kids do when they’re just kids. They don’t know the value of a dollar. I’ve matured a lot thanks to my job. You have to bend your ass over to make a dollar. If I ever had a kid I’m going to make sure he knows that money doesn’t just fall out of the sky. I’ll make him know that I worked forty-five minutes just to pay for that fucking frozen pizza, so he better be very fucking thankful that he gets to stuff his gob with it

 2.
“Mother F*ing Black Skull of Death”

Authored by Matthew Vaughn

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Quick link to Kindle copy

 

List Price: $12.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692585573 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692585575
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Pulling into the parking lot is a massive semi, with a huge trailer painted with gory pictures of impaled bodies and a pile of severed heads. There’s a huge silver skull near the back that has the words ‘Mother’ and ‘Fucker’ where its eye sockets should be, and ‘Black Skull of Death’ for a mouth. The truck pulls around, away from the front of the store. I can see the doors on the back of the trailer as the driver backs the rig towards us. It’s a painting of a naked woman with huge tits. She’s covered in blood and sitting on a massive pile of skulls, holding a can of Mother Fucking Black Skull of Death between her legs. I’m instantly hard as a rock.

Short excerpt to convince you to buy:

VINCE

This bitch is really going to town on my dick. She loves this shit. But she’s starting to gag, so I grab her head. I don’t want her to back off before I’m done. She is definitely trying to pull away, so I hold on and just start fucking her face. She’s smacking my legs and still gagging. I hear Jeff and Craig laughing, so I give them a big smile. Yeah, this shit is awesome.

“Dude, she’s gonna puke!” Jeff says. I look down and notice her dry heaving. The sounds coming from this bitch are crazy, but I’m not done yet, so I don’t let go. Then it happens, she starts spraying shit out of her nose! Fucking puke is coming out around my dick! She’s choking and gagging, and vomit is running down her face!

“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen!” Craig says. He’s laughing his ass off.

I’ve got a hold of this bitch’s head with a death grip, and I’m using the puke as a lube. I’m slamming it home until finally I bust a nut in her mouth. She still has a mouthful of her vomit, so there’s not much room for my spunk in there. A mixture of the two rolls out the sides of her mouth around my cock. I pull out and shove her head away. She falls to the floor, hacking, trying to get all the puke out of her mouth.

“I thought you were a pro?” I ask her. “Clean yourself up. You’ve still got two more dicks to suck.”

She looks up at me and her eyes are red from crying. She knows better than to say anything though, especially if she wants to get paid. I know she does, because surely she’s fiending for some meth, or H, or whatever. I watch her go into the bathroom. Her naked ass looks pretty tight. I sit down in the chair. I’m naked and have her puke on me, but I don’t give a fuck. I just want another Mother Fucking Black Skull of Death. That shit is good. I look up at Craig as he is sitting on the arm of the chair. He’s naked too and his big cock is rock-hard.

“You ready for some of that?” I say and smack his rod. He laughs and hands me a Black Skull. “Fuck yeah! I might just suck your dick!” I grab his cock and give it a couple quick strokes and we laugh.

“Nah, Jeff gets her next,” he says. They usually play this game where they watch me fucking a chick and whoever gets hard first is the loser and has to go last. I always go first, know that shit!

“This bitch needs to hurry, yo!” Jeff says. He’s standing near her puke, chugging a Black Skull of Death and stroking his rock-hard dick.

“You better not blow your load before she comes out!” I say. We laugh and she stumbles out of the bathroom. I wonder if she can fit both our dicks in her mouth at the same time. She gets down in front of him and starts working his shlong.

We wear this bitch out for awhile. It turns out she can get both mine and Jeff’s dick in her mouth. We let her get stoned, and then went on to find out how much shit we can stuff inside her pussy and asshole. One of my favorite things to do is stick a finger in both Craig and Jeff’s assholes and play whoever gets hard first loses. It’s Craig again. I’m starting to wonder if the dude’s gay, so I have him bend over and I shoot a load in his ass, and then made this high-as-fuck bitch suck that shit out! It was awesome!

Now she’s curled up on the bathroom floor, naked and passed out from meth or whatever. I’m standing over her, pissing all over her naked body, when Craig almost knocks me down.

“I need to shit, out of the way!” he says. He drops his drawers and squeezes one out on her chest. I start laughing and my piss sprays all over the place. I accidentally get some on him. “Hey, watch it, fucker!”

Craig puts his hand underneath his ass and shits in it, and then he launches it at me. I duck, but some of the shit hits my shoulder and we laugh.

We leave that bitch in the hotel, covered in piss, shit, and all the money we owed her. We’re not total dicks — we pay. However, she just might have to remove some of the bills from up inside her.

We head down to the local Huck’s, after having cleaned Marathon out of all its Black Skull. Stupid fuckin’ Ahmed, who runs that store, he needs to order more of that shit next time.

We’re not even ten steps inside Huck’s and I’m already raging. I can see the cooler where they keep the Mother Fucking Black Skull of Death and it’s empty.

“Where the fuck is my drink?” I yell. I want to rip my clothes off and start destroying the store. Jeff runs up to the cooler and starts throwing doors open.

“Aww, no, where is it?” he says. Craig is at the counter, banging on the hard surface.

“Carl! Suzan! Who’s working today?” he yells. “We need some fuckin’ Death Skull!”

Josh comes out from the back. He’s a loser stoner dude. I don’t have a problem with him. I’ve fucked his sister a couple times and let him watch and jerk off.

“Hey Vince, what’s happening?” he asks. He looks baked.

“Dude, Black Skull of Death, where is it?” I ask.

“Man, they shorted us in the last shipment, so we sold out. It happened to everybody in town,” he says. He fidgets with some of the crap on the counter. I feel as if he’s not taking this as seriously as he should be. I grab him by the shirt and push his face against the counter.

“Are you fuckin’ with me?” I say into his ear.

“Nah, Vince, I wouldn’t fuck with you, man,” he says. He holds his hands up as if he’s surrendering, like it matters to me if he’s had enough.

“Dude!” Jeff yells from behind me. “Check it out, man!”

I turn to see what Jeff is going on about. He’s looking out one of the big windows in the front of the store. I follow his gaze and see it, the most beautiful sight. I’m telling ya, you wouldn’t believe it.

Pulling into the parking lot is a massive semi, with a huge trailer painted with gory pictures of impaled bodies and a pile of severed heads. There’s a huge silver skull near the back that has the words ‘Mother’ and ‘Fucker’ where its eye sockets should be, and ‘Black Skull of Death’ for a mouth. The truck pulls around, away from the front of the store. I can see the doors on the back of the trailer as the driver backs the rig towards us. It’s a painting of a naked woman with huge tits. She’s covered in blood and sitting on a massive pile of skulls, holding a can of Mother Fucking Black Skull of Death between her legs. I’m instantly hard as a rock.

“Fuck yeah, guys. Let’s go!” Craig says as he runs out the door. I let go of Josh. I don’t even look at him. I keep my eyes on the truck. The door to the cab opens and a long-legged babe with curly, brown hair climbs out. I don’t even care about her; we’re just like some puppy dogs begging for that Black Skull treat.

She smiles as she walks past us. Oh yeah, she wants this dick. I’ll give it to her too, but only after I get some Black Skull shit. We watch that tight ass as she reaches up and unlatches the trailer doors.

 

Thank you and enjoy!

Feeding Controversy in Two New Dark Humor Novels from MorbidbookS

•January 2, 2016 • Leave a Comment

8f9eaa72309b76dca5fd4cd9a3e03f373.jpg

 

 

Extreme Fiction is by its very nature potentially both  delightful as well as what can be perceived as offensive. It can also often be affronting to one’s sensibilities. Humor that is ‘dark’ or ‘black’ in its inherent bottom line of its various form most often display the crux or at least the setting that: “people are just so awful…. especially to one another.

In fact as it is in many cases the work doesn’t even have to be humorous. While the 2 examples that MorbidbookS below are both considered Dark Humor, it does not have to be. Sometimes a despicable protag with uncontrolled id can be fascinating if the source material is handled well. Weird always has to make sense within the confines of itself. That’s the only way to bring in more readers.

Was is a different type is Crack Fic it changes some fundamental aspect of the source material, the “something’s different about this” It is an idea taken to the extreme. In its broadest sense, Crack Fic is any story whose premise and events would be completely implausible in Canon. These frequently include bizarre (or Bizarro) settings and explorations of improbable relationships between characters — not merely unlikely in canon, as in Foe Yay, but totally irrational and turned up a notch beyond that, as in Crack Pairing. Crack Fic is often considered the result of a challenge, either from someone outside the author or from the author him/herself: “This idea is completely unworkable, but I bet I can make it work.” The name stems from the notion that the author must have been ingesting some illegal substance just to think up the idea, let alone write it.

And speaking of here’s 2 titles from MorbidbookS which are controversial to the very extreme limits of Dark/Black Humor”:

1.

“Burn, Ferguson, Burn!”: Fun and Games Down Down at the Race Riots

Authored by The Blackface Rioter

                            CLICK FOR AMAZON

 

List Price: $19.99
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
172 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692606575 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692606572
BISAC: Fiction / Black Humor

FUN AND GAMES DOWN AT THE RACE RIOTS!We’ve had four blacks killed by cops in a short span of time that have made big news. The score is that two of them deserved it. Two of them didn’t. They were murdered by the cops. The Civil Rights Movement latched onto one of those assholes who totally fucking deserved it and polarized the races even more. If they only waited until one of the legit cop murders, then there would have been a whole lot of people holding hands and singing Kum-by-ya. Lucky for me, they didn’t.

An Excerpt to encourage you to buy:

She sees me and screams.

I clamped my hand over her mouth and ignored her teeth clamping down into my palm. I listened but I heard no one. I’m sure the neighbors heard the scream, the walls being so paper fucking thin and all, but people in transitional housing are used to the odd scream every now and then. Nobody leaves their place to knock on my door. I don’t even hear anyone moving, so I’m pretty sure no one gave enough of a fuck to call the cops.

“I’m going to take my hand away. Don’t scream.”

“Who are you?”

“I fucking live here.”

“With the other guy?”

Oh, shit. I forgot I was supposed to be black. No wonder this chick screamed.

“There is no other guy. I’m the same guy. I’m not a black guy. I’m white.”

“I thought you had that Michael Jackson stuff.”

“I lied.”

“I sucked off a white man?”

“You did.”

Repulsion is a weak commentary about the look on her face. I won’t waste words to describe it.

“You’re all over the fucking news.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do?”

I hadn’t thought about that before. There being a couple layers to what I was going to do, I mean. What I wanted to do was blackface myself up, wait for nightfall, and go hitting the streets like I did last night. I didn’t think I would have to do anything. What the hell was I supposed to do? I wanted to be there and do what everybody else was doing, fucking shit up. I knew what I didn’t want to do and that was stay home and sit this one out. No fucking way that was going to happen.

“I’m going out.”

“The police will be looking for you. Well, not really you, but the guy that’s on the television. They’re making you out to be some sort of poster child for all this shit. You’re not even black!”

“I just wanted to fit in. I tried it before as myself and got beat up.”

“Well what the fuck did you think was going to happen?”

“I thought that the black people would think that I was on their side and they would leave me alone.”

“You’re a fucking crazy person. What the fuck am I going to do with you?”

“Pay for the room?”

“Are you trying to be funny?”

“No.”

“You can get that thought out of your head right fucking now. Do you know what my people will do to you if they find out that you aren’t black?”

“Kill me?”

“You’re fucking right they will.”

“I just want to riot.”

“Go find some white boys to do it with then.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“You’re damn right it’s not. You are well out of your league on this one, you crazy ass fool. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. Stay home.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Well, if you’re going out you have to play the part in full. You have to be the poster child.”

“I just want to break windows and shit.”

“Well, go on then. I don’t know what to do with you.”

“Are you coming?”

“Hell, no. Now that I know I’ve sucked off a white man, I’m going to have to do a little soul searching. I could have you charged for rape.”

“Are you?”

“Get the hell out of here.”

I did. It was weird having her talk to me in this way. It wasn’t even her apartment. I didn’t even know her name. Even though we had gotten very familiar with each other, it still didn’t feel right for me to just kick her out. Doesn’t even fucking matter. The best thing about the incident was that it killed daylight and I could get my shit together and head out to the fray. I went into the bathroom and shaved my head again. There was a bit of stubble that had grown since last night. I put the shoe polish on and my outfit, stuffed my pants full of Kleenex and headed out the door.

“Bye.”

She gave me a half wave as if I barely existed and went back to watching television. I hoped she didn’t eat all my food.

2.

Mother F*ing Black Skull of Death

Authored by Matthew Vaughn

List Price: $12.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692585573 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692585575
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Pulling into the parking lot is a massive semi, with a huge trailer painted with gory pictures of impaled bodies and a pile of severed heads. There’s a huge silver skull near the back that has the words ‘Mother’ and ‘Fucker’ where its eye sockets should be, and ‘Black Skull of Death’ for a mouth. The truck pulls around, away from the front of the store. I can see the doors on the back of the trailer as the driver backs the rig towards us. It’s a painting of a naked woman with huge tits. She’s covered in blood and sitting on a massive pile of skulls, holding a can of Mother Fucking Black Skull of Death between her legs. I’m instantly hard as a rock.

An Excerpt to encourage you to buy:

This bitch is really going to town on my dick. She loves this shit. But she’s starting to gag, so I grab her head. I don’t want her to back off before I’m done. She is definitely trying to pull away, so I hold on and just start fucking her face. She’s smacking my legs and still gagging. I hear Jeff and Craig laughing, so I give them a big smile. Yeah, this shit is awesome.

“Dude, she’s gonna puke!” Jeff says. I look down and notice her dry heaving. The sounds coming from this bitch are crazy, but I’m not done yet, so I don’t let go. Then it happens, she starts spraying shit out of her nose! Fucking puke is coming out around my dick! She’s choking and gagging, and vomit is running down her face!

“That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen!” Craig says. He’s laughing his ass off.

I’ve got a hold of this bitch’s head with a death grip, and I’m using the puke as a lube. I’m slamming it home until finally I bust a nut in her mouth. She still has a mouthful of her vomit, so there’s not much room for my spunk in there. A mixture of the two rolls out the sides of her mouth around my cock. I pull out and shove her head away. She falls to the floor, hacking, trying to get all the puke out of her mouth.

“I thought you were a pro?” I ask her. “Clean yourself up. You’ve still got two more dicks to suck.”

She looks up at me and her eyes are red from crying. She knows better than to say anything though, especially if she wants to get paid. I know she does, because surely she’s fiending for some meth, or H, or whatever. I watch her go into the bathroom. Her naked ass looks pretty tight. I sit down in the chair. I’m naked and have her puke on me, but I don’t give a fuck. I just want another Mother Fucking Black Skull of Death. That shit is good. I look up at Craig as he is sitting on the arm of the chair. He’s naked too and his big cock is rock-hard.

“You ready for some of that?” I say and smack his rod. He laughs and hands me a Black Skull. “Fuck yeah! I might just suck your dick!” I grab his cock and give it a couple quick strokes and we laugh.

“Nah, Jeff gets her next,” he says. They usually play this game where they watch me fucking a chick and whoever gets hard first is the loser and has to go last. I always go first, know that shit!

“This bitch needs to hurry, yo!” Jeff says. He’s standing near her puke, chugging a Black Skull of Death and stroking his rock-hard dick.

“You better not blow your load before she comes out!” I say. We laugh and she stumbles out of the bathroom. I wonder if she can fit both our dicks in her mouth at the same time. She gets down in front of him and starts working his shlong.

We wear this bitch out for awhile. It turns out she can get both mine and Jeff’s dick in her mouth. We let her get stoned, and then went on to find out how much shit we can stuff inside her pussy and asshole. One of my favorite things to do is stick a finger in both Craig and Jeff’s assholes and play whoever gets hard first loses. It’s Craig again. I’m starting to wonder if the dude’s gay, so I have him bend over and I shoot a load in his ass, and then made this high-as-fuck bitch suck that shit out! It was awesome!

Now she’s curled up on the bathroom floor, naked and passed out from meth or whatever. I’m standing over her, pissing all over her naked body, when Craig almost knocks me down.

“I need to shit, out of the way!” he says. He drops his drawers and squeezes one out on her chest. I start laughing and my piss sprays all over the place. I accidentally get some on him. “Hey, watch it, fucker!”

Craig puts his hand underneath his ass and shits in it, and then he launches it at me. I duck, but some of the shit hits my shoulder and we laugh.

We leave that bitch in the hotel, covered in piss, shit, and all the money we owed her. We’re not total dicks — we pay. However, she just might have to remove some of the bills from up inside her.

We head down to the local Huck’s, after having cleaned Marathon out of all its Black Skull. Stupid fuckin’ Ahmed, who runs that store, he needs to order more of that shit next time.

We’re not even ten steps inside Huck’s and I’m already raging. I can see the cooler where they keep the Mother Fucking Black Skull of Death and it’s empty.

“Where the fuck is my drink?” I yell. I want to rip my clothes off and start destroying the store. Jeff runs up to the cooler and starts throwing doors open.

“Aww, no, where is it?” he says. Craig is at the counter, banging on the hard surface.

“Carl! Suzan! Who’s working today?” he yells. “We need some fuckin’ Death Skull!”

Josh comes out from the back. He’s a loser stoner dude. I don’t have a problem with him. I’ve fucked his sister a couple times and let him watch and jerk off.

“Hey Vince, what’s happening?” he asks. He looks baked.

“Dude, Black Skull of Death, where is it?” I ask.

“Man, they shorted us in the last shipment, so we sold out. It happened to everybody in town,” he says. He fidgets with some of the crap on the counter. I feel as if he’s not taking this as seriously as he should be. I grab him by the shirt and push his face against the counter.

“Are you fuckin’ with me?” I say into his ear.

“Nah, Vince, I wouldn’t fuck with you, man,” he says. He holds his hands up as if he’s surrendering, like it matters to me if he’s had enough.

“Dude!” Jeff yells from behind me. “Check it out, man!”

I turn to see what Jeff is going on about. He’s looking out one of the big windows in the front of the store. I follow his gaze and see it, the most beautiful sight. I’m telling ya, you wouldn’t believe it.

Pulling into the parking lot is a massive semi, with a huge trailer painted with gory pictures of impaled bodies and a pile of severed heads. There’s a huge silver skull near the back that has the words ‘Mother’ and ‘Fucker’ where its eye sockets should be, and ‘Black Skull of Death’ for a mouth. The truck pulls around, away from the front of the store. I can see the doors on the back of the trailer as the driver backs the rig towards us. It’s a painting of a naked woman with huge tits. She’s covered in blood and sitting on a massive pile of skulls, holding a can of Mother Fucking Black Skull of Death between her legs. I’m instantly hard as a rock.

“Fuck yeah, guys. Let’s go!” Craig says as he runs out the door. I let go of Josh. I don’t even look at him. I keep my eyes on the truck. The door to the cab opens and a long-legged babe with curly, brown hair climbs out. I don’t even care about her; we’re just like some puppy dogs begging for that Black Skull treat.

She smiles as she walks past us. Oh yeah, she wants this dick. I’ll give it to her too, but only after I get some Black Skull shit. We watch that tight ass as she reaches up and unlatches the trailer doors.

Updated MorbidbookS TITLES Page

•November 27, 2015 • Leave a Comment

~MORBIDBOOKS PRINT CATALOGUE~

(Presented mostly in no discernible order)

  “When it comes to the grotesque and bizarre, rev rage [and MorbidbookS] thinks outside the pine box (casket, that is). this is a short but tasty little treat for those who like their literature to run on the sick and twisted side. as with his book about pilate, rage combines a knowledge of modern street/drug   culture and slmbsang with an intelligent wit and a lyrical sense of prose. although written in prose, it has a certain poetic flow that maintains the sick depravity you expect to see in rage’s work. it’s short, but complete unto itself. it doesn’t need to be any longer than it is…and it almost comes off as reading like a morbid, morose, sick, demented, profane version of The Iliad and The Odyssey (in form, not in content). and it really is worth reading…if you like this kind of sick stuff, which I do. as i said, it’s not just gross…there’s an intelligence and a worthy writing style in rage’s work. it’s hard to explain. all i can say is: if i were ever to be reincarnated as another charlie manson, i would definitely want steven rage in my family. this is an inventive story of woe and regret and sex and things crawling out of notoriously uncomfortable body orafices that is not to be missed. if you like the demented and bizarre, give this short but tasty little number a try. it’s like chicken eyeball soup with entrails for your shriveled, rancid soul.”

D. Gorman “Crystalline Structure Moon”

 

40.  21: Based on a True Story, Authored by E. Jayne Forish

List Price: $12.99
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
162 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1517126186 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1517126185
BISAC: True Crime / Hoaxes & Deceptions

This riveting tale of Alice Carroll — a drug-addled, bipolar wreck of a narrator — combines poetic prose against a nightmarish backdrop of drugs, lies, and madness. This nonfiction novella opens with a rather ordinary scene of Carroll’s 21st birthday and rapidly progresses throughout the months of the year into a story colored with excessive drug use, careless decision-making, exorbitant lying, and the drama & chaos that ensues from the combinations of such during any social interactions with friends, family, and foe. This well-written memoir is a work of art that generates writing styles from a variety of authors, often reminiscent of David Foster Wallace, through the unique utilization of footnotes, as well as Jean Paul Sartre, with diversions into the realms of existentialism, and William S. Burroughs, with references to habitual drug use as “The Routine” and undertones of the junk equation. I would highly recommend this book to anyone interested in the junkie subculture, creative nonfiction writing, or simply an individual who can appreciate a finely written piece of prose. A must-have for the bookshelves of a diverse batch of readers, “~21~: Real True Shit” is sure to keep the pages turning with surprise twists of fate through and through until one reach the rather bitter end.

 39.  The Place In Between, Authored by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage

List Price: $12.99
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692530320 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692530320
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

“Del, a man who, when confronted with evidence that his wife was cheating, unsuccessfully attempts suicide and ends up confined to a wheelchair, unable to speak or even breathe on his own. And then he’s released to the care of his cheating wife and her lover. To the outside world, they’re a devoted wife and good friend. Privately, they taunt, torment and torture the helpless Del–until a demon shows up to help him. Ah, but it’s not quite that simple: Rage starts the story out with the Euripides quote, “The gods visit the sins of the fathers upon the children.” And Rage weaves this theme into the characters’ backstories, giving the story an extra dimension.”

~Ray Holland, Amazon Review.

“Del’s wife Luci is having an affair with her drug supplier, Sancho. Sancho and Luci eventually manage to get custody of the invalid Del, and Sancho uses this as payback time from their navy days (apparently Del had done something to ruin Sancho’s career). The story becomes an extreme torture tale, one that made me wince a few times…but Del manages to turn the tables via a Faust-ish deal with a demon. Rage also gives another fresh spin here on ghosts, making this a perfect blend of hardcore horror and Bizarro goodness.”

~Nick Cato, Amazon Review.

38.  Slaves Shall Serve: There Is No Safe Word, Authored by Antonio Salerongo Di Pietro

List Price: $17.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
400 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1517124663 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1517124662
BISAC: Fiction / Erotica / BDSM

It wasn’t long before the contents of his mysterious trunk were revealed to her. It was true, they were props, and some of them might even have been used in the circus. Whips and crops, handcuffs, gags and blindfolds. He applied each of them to her liberally and with sadistic abandon. She took to each of them and craved more.
This was the other side of Salero, the one he hid, the dark side. Publically, the man loved and craved the laughter and applause of children. He delighted in playing his character for them and ate up the love that they gave him. He mugged for them. He danced and pranced around the ring, getting them to clap along with him as he performed his tricks and stunts. His patented pratfalls brought gales of laughter.
But as much as he craved the laughter of children, he also craved the cries and screams of women as they submitted to his own particular brand of sadism. He wielded a whip better than any lion tamer in the business. It thrilled him to watch the firm young flesh of a woman writhe and twist in delicious agony as his ropes bit deeply into them and his crops left myriads of latticework markings on their bodies. Their anguish was his delight.

37.  Toenails, Authored by Dani Brown

List Price: $12.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692518304 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692518304
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

There was a time when toenails were plentiful and I could swallow one down while pressing the button for eight more minutes of blissful sleep.
Clamminess washed over me. There was no way I would be able to make it to work like this. I needed toenails to start my morning right. In the grips of withdrawal I could not think of anything other than toenails and scoring toenails. Toenails were all that mattered.
Ripping the duvet away from the wife was the difficult part. She held it in death’s grip beneath her chin and tucked between her legs. I became used to never having any blanket – not even a little patch. I would crank up the heat when I woke with my midnight toenail cravings regardless of the season; a little bit of spite courtesy of good ol’ dad. My wife would still be reluctant to liberate the duvet despite sleeping in a pool of her own sweat that turned the flakes of dead skin into slush. I once tried to satisfy my cravings with this skin slush; day-long diarrhoea left me on the toilet and the family had to use the outdoor one.
Shaking, it was more difficult to pry the duvet away from her. The withdrawals became worse each day. It seemed her grip on the duvet became tighter as the withdrawals became worse – her subconscious conspiring against me. The back of her mind knew I was no good for her and should trade her in for a younger model.
I only needed access to her feet. Toe jam wasn’t as good a substitute for toenails as dick cheese but I needed to make it into work today and every other day for the rest of the fucking year. The board of directors were the biggest bunch of loser arse-ferrets this world has ever seen. I could not even provide an accurate description of what it was I did all day or a clear title for the job that would be on the line if I had a sick day.

36.  Damnation Beneath The Frozen Apocalypse, Authored by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage

List Price: $12.99
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
142 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692530337 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692530339
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

TWO CUTS OF BIZARRO HARDCORE HORROR from the macabre mind of the grim Reverend Rage. Three sordid tales of demons, revenge, botched suicide, organic narcotics, torture, halflings, freaks, vampires and a post-apocalyptic society coming apart at its seams. TWO trips to the dark side that’ll leave you reeling yet unable to look away.

‘DAMNATION BENEATH THE FROZEN APOCALYPSE’ we return to The Harbor and learn more about The Good Doctor (responsible for creating drugs and mutants) and his created servant, the scene-stealing hybrid man/chimp, Tugmunkee. This one was a bit of a chore to follow, but in the end Rage brings it all together. While some people in the bizarro community frown upon stories centered around drug use, this one works as the “tripping” scenes are just a side-note to the real weirdness.

In ‘BLOOD AND BUBBLEGUM,’ we’re introduced to some seriously strange characters who are involved in an ever-growing organic narcotics trade, including protagonist Juan and a fecal-demon that lives in his rectum. This is by far the weirdest entry here, and features a fresh look at vampirism.

M O R B I D B O O K S . R E A D  L I K E  T H E  D E V I L .

35.  Welcome To New Edge Hill, Authored by Dani Brown

List Price: $14.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
140 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692575406 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692575405
BISAC: Fiction / Black Humor

“My moustache twitched in an effort to escape the confines of a bucket of cream, hair ointment and the extensions I had put in last week. It wanted to compete with Teddy’s natural face locks and show that it, too, could stand proud.
The hair on my arms had only run of the mill body lotion to keep it in place, which in the unexplained circumstances I found myself in with Teddy Dick that late summer morning, was of complete uselessness. It stood up on end.
I looked over at Teddy. The desire to see a facial hair out of place, snap a picture and post it online was too strong to resist. But his face hair was perfect, as always, leaving my heart to sink and ponder what I must look like (I refused to confirm my suspicions by looking in the mirror). The hair on his arm closest to me was in a state similar to my own. At least not everything about him was perfect. It was confusing that someone could be so perfect and yet, still be such a dickhead.”

34.  Pickles, Authored by Gregor Cole

List Price: $12.99
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
140 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692530313 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692530312
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

THE LAST LUMP OF CRYSTALLISED CHEMICAL crackled away inside the burnt up light bulb.
Fingers covered with soot clung to the makeshift pipe as his painted lips sucked out the smoke; the flame from the trembling disposable lighter catching the glitter in his blue afro. His eyes sunk into the smudged grease paint like piss holes in the snow.
Pickles the clown slumped back into his chair as the smoke worked its magic in his lungs.
The chemical being sucked up like a sponge by his near to kaput alveolar membrane into the pulmonary capillary’s and into his blood stream. It rushed towards his brain adding yet another tiny black spot of damage to his grey matter.
His eyes rolled up into his head as his body shivered from the first wave of intoxication and the world around him flushed away.
He was buzzing from his big toe to his last hair follicle, a sensation of euphoric rapture as if his entire body was being licked by a million amateur porn starlets. His limp penis twitched with a pulse of stimuli from the drug signalling his return to reality and his eyes rolled back into the real world. The buzz passed as quickly as it had come leaving Pickles a little disorientated but still high as shit. Pickles had voided his bladder into his sweatpants. “Aw, fuck it!”
He got up dizzy with the effects of the junk he had bought from Dominic the pimp earlier that morning and staggered towards the bathroom to fetch a towel. He pulled down the soaked sweatpants and threw them onto a heap of unwashed laundry.
He washed his dick and his inner thighs in the sink with cold water then stared off into the mirror. The grotty bathroom looked like a stained glass window behind his gaunt made-up face as the residual effect of the drug changed his visual perception.
He walked back out into the hallway; he would need cigarettes and some coffee, maybe a hit or two of sleeping tablets. The chemical in his blood would wear off soon enough and the comedown was hard.
Pickles then stepped bare foot into a pile of cold cat shit.

MORBIDBOOKS. READ LIKE THE DEVIL.

33.  Mother F*ing Black Skull of Death, Authored by Matthew Vaughn

List Price: $12.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692585573 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692585575
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Pulling into the parking lot is a massive semi, with a huge trailer painted with gory pictures of impaled bodies and a pile of severed heads. There’s a huge silver skull near the back that has the words ‘Mother’ and ‘Fucker’ where its eye sockets should be, and ‘Black Skull of Death’ for a mouth. The truck pulls around, away from the front of the store. I can see the doors on the back of the trailer as the driver backs the rig towards us. It’s a painting of a naked woman with huge tits. She’s covered in blood and sitting on a massive pile of skulls, holding a can of Mother Fucking Black Skull of Death between her legs. I’m instantly hard as a rock.

32.  Ichthyic in the Afterglow, Authored by Jason Wayne Allen.

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692321126 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692321128
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

In the afterglow of a world that was, and will never be again… Clem is a suicidal mime, degenerating into a fish. Cassie is a teenage brat, pregnant with a child that seems to center around mysterious cults devoted to cats and dogs.

“In ICHTHYIC IN THE AFTERGLOW, Jason Wayne Allen has selected elements from Robert W. Chambers’ THE KING IN YELLOW and H.P. Lovecraft’s fictional dream-realms and skillfully constructed a futuristic nightmare world that gleams like a poisoned river with an oil-slick spectrum of toxic colors. Move over, William S. Burroughs: you may have prepared a NAKED LUNCH, but now Allen is serving up an orgiastic smorgasbord of decadent horrors and wonders.”

– Mark McLaughlin, Author of BEST LITTLE WITCH-HOUSE IN ARKHAM and HIDEOUS FACES, BEAUTIFUL SKULLS

MORBIDBOOKS. READ LIKE THE DEVIL.

 

31.  The Whorehouse That Jack Built. Authored by Kevin Sweeney

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
172 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692506295 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692506292
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

It was a whorehouse, but not one open to just anyone. To get there you had to be dying or insane. The services offered were all offered for the same price, which was everything you had. There were paths there that only those who had crossed the border into the Undiscovered Country could find, if they knew the landmarks to follow, the signs to watch for.
Clem followed and watched and two days ago his mule had done died of exhaustion and it was just him and Lady keepin’ on who knew how and finally they came to a dead town with no name at twilight and a whorehouse with a sign above the door that Clem could not read:

A SOILED DOVE IN A CAGE
PUTS ALL HEAVEN IN A RAGE

A whorehouse run by demons. A whorehouse that offered the greatest pleasures a man could ever want… in exchange for everything he had.
Am I gonna do this? Am I really gonna…
The cancer in his belly twisted spikes through his impacted bowels and in front of him lay Lady, a sacrifice.
And Clem pushed that door open and stepped across the threshold.

 

   

1. Belly: A Brutal Bible Tale. Authored by Rev. Steven Rage

https://www.createspace.com/3537873

List Price: $6.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
140 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1456504991 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1456504991
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~ Our hapless prophet finds himself in the wrong damn place at the wrong damn time. ~
He simply wanted to go to The Harbor to get some Plata because his guy in Big City where he lives got pinched. Desperate enough for the Plata to trudge down to The Harbor, and naive enough to go naked, Jonah finds himself in the midst of a deadly squabble with a an angry , unstable drug dealer pointing a gun at his chest. At point blank range the Plata dealer can’t miss. The dealer fires. Being shot by a large caliber handgun should have put a grieving Jonah out of his misery, but The Christ has other plans for him. What can you say She moves in mysterious ways. Jonah, shot in the chest, is dead before he hits the ground. Fine by him. Not so for the New Christ. She sends Pedro to intervene.
Immanuel the Christ has some nerve. Jonah has already lost everyone he loves to Pilate the vampire and his Harbor drug violence. Jonah now trudges through his days staying as high on Plata as possible. He just wants to be left alone while he waits for his turn to die.
The Christ has other plans for him. She sends Her messenger, Pedro, to assign Jonah the very dangerous task of ordering the Herod to dismantle the Harbor’s Plata trade. Jonah has a choice: fight or flight. He decides to run. But you can’t run from God forever. As Jonah learns the hard way when the ‘Edmund Fitzgerald’ founders and goes down in rough seas, with the reluctant prophet on board.
Job is Satan’s Chosen One and he doesn’t take kindly to orders from some upstart prophet. Rather than acquiescing, Job thinks caving Jonah’s head in with a tire iron is the best bet. Jonah finds himself out of the frying pan, but firmly fixed in the fire. Then the Lord Herself starts dispatching Job’s children. One at a time, until the Herod of The Harbor finally obeys. 

https://www.createspace.com/3537873

2. Brian The Maker. Authored by Gregor Cole

https://www.createspace.com/5154911

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
140 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692347522 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692347526
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Brian tried to remember how all this started as he drove into the torrential night; it almost hurt his head trying to recall the events leading to this moment in time.
Maybe it had started when he was at university.
He had a girlfriend in his final year that had gotten him into some weird stuff sexually then she left him for a guy with a bigger cock. The other guy was some gay looking chump with muscles and a tattoo; the pair had died in a car accident and Brian took a dump on their graves after each of their funerals.
Fuck the both of them.
But after she had left him he needed to fill the void of the newfound enjoyment of sickening sexual practices.
Brain had purchased one of those ‘real life’ sex dolls online from a Japanese company; the company had some kooky name like ‘FUKARADA’ or something. Crazy Japanese bastards, they really led the way in the perverse.
Boy did the thing look real; you could bend it into any position and it came armed with enormous tits, willing mouth and a supposedly real feel pussy and anus. The packaging said to ‘just add lubricant’ but there was a problem. There was something missing; the smells, the tastes and the feel of real skin.
You can’t emulate that.
So Brian set out to attempt to build a real life sex toy made from real life people.

3. Doctor Flesh: Director’s Cut. Authored by Alex S. Johnson

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
176 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692271971 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 069227197X
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

From Alex S. Johnson, the author of Bad Sunset, Wicked Candy and The Death Jazz, comes a new vision in Bizarro horror. Imagine a TROMA film on meth and acid, one part cyberpunk, one part Franz Kafka, and three parts frankly unsuitable for a sane audience. “Will make you feel as if you’ve just eaten 8 Percocets and washed ’em down with a bottle of moonshine,” says Necro Stein of Texas Terror Entertainment.

4. Humanity Is The Devil. Authored by Jordan Krall
List Price: $12.99
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
222 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0615985466 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0615985467
BISAC: Fiction / Horror

HUMANITY IS THE DEVIL is a deconstructed nightmare mixing David Lynch and snuff movies. The plot revolves around a central character, Seth, who is set about a crusade against humanity which, for him, represents pure evil. Through random killings he and his cronies try to accelerate the end of the world, in order to provoke and defeat the Demiurge, the false God that is ruling the earth. As in Burroughs, logical language is replaced here with cut-scenes – sometimes to be taken literally – that plunge the reader into an extreme experience. Both incredibly morbid and enthralling, HITD is a masterpiece of moral darkness and existentialist reflection upon our comfortable religion and morals.

5. Laugh To Death. Authored by Charie D. LaMarr
FOR print COPY
List Price: $19.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
436 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692330302 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692330305
BISAC: Fiction / Mystery & Detective / General

He didn’t bother to undress—merely unzipping his pants and shrugging them down before dropping on top of her and entering her fiercely. His grunts as he thrust hard into her were loud and vulgar. She struggled and writhed violently beneath him.
“No! You will not move. You say I am a fucking clown, and so I will be. And I will fuck you until I can fuck you no more. And when I am done, perhaps I will take you down to the cattle car and watch while the other clowns fuck you one by one until you are so full that their juices run down your thighs. You will learn to show respect for me. For my art and my craft.”
Pinning her hands to the bed, he entered her quickly and roughly. She screamed and spit in his face. He slapped her again and left her ear ringing as he wiped the spittle from her face and continued to pound her hard and fast.
“You hate clowns? Well you have a clown inside of you right now. How does that feel? A fucking clown is raping you and he’ll continue to do it until it pleases him to stop.

6. Legacy. Authored by Michael Noe

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
122 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1461016007 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1461016002
BISAC: Fiction / Thrillers / Crime

A SHAMEFUL DEVIL OF A DIRTY SECRET is something that two men share. A legacy is created not out of madness, but of the purest desire. Take a vivid journey into the mind of the killer and his biggest fan. Inside is the real truth and it can set you free. See as the knife plunges over and over again. Lap at the wounds of the dark words of this found journal. Watch all you want. Taste what you dare not have. But once you see, you are in collusion. Keep reading and the guilt will stain. But it will be BLOODY. GOOD. FUN.

7. Middle Age RAE of Fucking Sunshine. Authored by Dani Brown
List Price: $9.95
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
136 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692330708 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692330704
BISAC: Fiction / Crime

Rae is her name.
Our support group of embittered and most likely deranged women are going to kidnap, torture, disembowel and finally kill the woman who has ruined all our lives. As foul and as grotesque as she is, she acts like she’s Queen of the Bean.
Rae, her buck-tooth grin and rosy cheeks of middle age acne reflected winter sun. Straw-like blonde hair obscured by the veil and tiara she enjoyed parading around in. She walked past our window with sickening confidence oblivious to us and our weak tea.
Rae. Everything was always about Rae. Was she a princess today, or was she a bride? Did she know or care? Did it even matter? We wished we could be that delusional and walk around with an air of not giving a damn.
Rae believes she is above the pain she has caused. Beyond the whimpering of her victims. Out of reach of vengeance. Our support group of women do not agree. Judgement day is here for Rae.
Our support group will enjoy every moment of agonizing torment and misery we will force her to endure.
Rae has got it coming.

8. MorbidbookS SciFi Anthology: 2013. Authored by Steven Scott Nelson 
 https://www.createspace.com/4122178
List Price: $6.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
154 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1481918879 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1481918877
BISAC: Fiction / Science Fiction / General

~ CARGO CONTAINS: ~
Space-wrecked on Venus by Neil R. Jones
For All the Marbles by Rev. Steven Rage
Tony and the Beetles by Philip K. Dick
Acid Bath by Vaseleos Garson
The Butterfly Kiss by Arthur Dekker Savage
The Moon Destroyers by Monroe K. Ruch
From some of the giants of the Golden Age to the darkest of dystopian noir, MorbidbookS SciFi Anthology will take you from hopeful space travel to living hand-to-mouth in the despair beneath the Earth.
Welcome to your future.

9. Murderland. Authored by Garrett Cook
List Price: $14.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White Bleed on Cream paper
294 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0615855073 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0615855075
BISAC: True Crime / Murder / Serial Killers

~ Jeremy Jenkins is a pharmacist living a nightmare. ~
America has made serial killing provisionally legal. What was once a crime is now a game. Juvenile delinquent Reapkids dressed as history’s deadliest murderers roam the streets causing chaos. Cannibal Godless Jack Cavanagh is on every morning show. And Jeremy’s girlfriend Cass, the love of his life, can’t get enough of it. Could be worse. Creatures from another dimension could be infiltrating ours getting our women pregnant. He could live with the guilt of being history’s most prolific serial killer. The fate of a world not worth saving could rest on his broad shoulders. Maybe they are. Maybe he is. Maybe it does.

10. My Lovely Wife. Authored by Dani Brown
List Price: $9.95
5.5″ x 8.5″ (13.97 x 21.59 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
108 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692259566 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692259562
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

He had to have her the moment he saw her trachea ring. Six months later she was his lovely wife. He performed his duties as a husband and she as a wife. He tolerated a house filled with references to her late first husband and the children they had together. He put up with her prudish ways. He waited. He was patient. He planned. He was adaptable. He was rewarded over the course of a week in her basement. He turned his perverse sexual fantasies of worms and maggots and her lovely crusty trachea ring into a gruesome reality.

11. Peachy Gizzard and the Spheres of Glammeth. Authored by Andrew Coulthard
List Price: $9.95
5.5″ x 8.5″ (13.97 x 21.59 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
102 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692268285 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692268286
BISAC: Fiction / Science Fiction / Action & Adventure

When the winds blew I felt them blowing through me, when the land shook, it was my corpus that trembled. When the tides ebbed and flowed I became more shore and more sea. I was day and night as the sun and moon described the steps of their dancing within me. Just as I could see all the world at once, I was all of these things at once, and the motion of an entire world formed the foundation of my stillness.
I’d travelled through the Sphere of Glammeth, descended through the Guardian, and then through the Grey-Man, fallen through a hole that pierced all the worlds. I had followed the stream to its source and become the worlds through which I’d fallen; now in completion I dwelt in gaps between overlapping pulses of time; the multitude within the one.
And thus I remained for all time in stillness and motion, fullness and emptiness. Whole in content, whole in process, whole in time. Seeing all, being all, my eyes the eyes of the cosmos, in ultimate being.

12. Pharmacide. Authored by Steven Scott Nelson RRT

List Price: $14.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
410 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1463797447 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1463797443
BISAC: Fiction / Thrillers / Medical

~ It looks like Carolyn and Mark are in deep, deep shit. ~
Mark and Carolyn live in an alternate 1989 where Ronald Reagan is on his fourth presidential term. The USA has a rigid, long-standing caste system and abortions were never made legal. Being homeless is a crime that is punishable by imprisonment in an internment camp the inmates call Tent City. Most of Mark’s ER patients are inmates at this camp and are victims of a new disease these illegals call the Transient Flu. This deadly and rapidly spreading disease mutates with each new host, collecting information, changing code. The disease evolves lightning quick, spreading like pond ripples and infecting everyone. No one is safe. Mark and Carolyn dig too deep and uncover the brutal truth: Transient Flu was purposely made and is one hundred percent fatal. Carolyn’s employer, Hudson-Smythe Pharmaceuticals, discovers the chain of evidence and traces the pharmacide back to Hudson-Smythe and the crime of the century. Cost is no object and deadly force is authorized.
Yes. Carolyn and Mark are in deep, deep shit.

13. Physician Most Ravenous. Authored by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage
List Price: $5.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
118 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1494317287 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1494317281
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~ For your dining and dancing amusement comes a sick and twisted story of the Black Death. ~ During the height of England’s Bubonic Plague an ancient Evil Force strolls into London-Town in the form of a would-be doctor. It could smell the blood from miles away, wanting only to help. At the hospital where he cares for the victims of this Black Death, the ill come to him unimpeded. They arrived and fell by the scores. With the help of his ever-faithful assistant, Sightless Agness, a most ravenous cares for them all. Eating his way through an entire hospital, he treats them until there is nothing left. Nothing save their empty eye sockets, a few pounds of leeched bleached bones and some bolts of old dried-out flesh-leather parchment. But the eyes? The eyes of the dead? Sightless Agnes keeps for herself. Seems Fair.

14. PILATE: Director’s Cut. Authored by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage
List Price: $11.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
326 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1481917902 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1481917900
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~Pontius Pilate is cursed to be a vampire. Life after life after life.~ And for the Plata dealing Pilate, his life is more like a death sentence. His only chance surviving is to keep on selling his monthly quota of Plata. This new man-made narcotic is a potent speed-ball designed to amp up the user, while also numbing the conscience into euphoric oblivion. To nullify the pain. To stifle the torture. To run and to hid from all the anguish inside. PILATE is a drug lord vampire in this re-telling of Christ’s final days. When given yet another chance to save the Earth’s latest Christ, will the re-incarnated Pilate choose to protect Her? Or to save his drug business, his money and his friends, will the modern day Pilate instead choose to wash his hands of the whole ordeal? Pilate shall have to allow the torture and death of a Holy Person in order to save his very own life. ” For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?” This is a truly Brutal Bible Tale. A dismal post-industrial future. A look at man defiled and in decline. Evil has arrived and Dominion has been taken by the damned, the demons, vampires, vicious ghosts and strange halflings. The cast-aside by-products of all the debauched rampages and scientific sins against nature. Sex, drugs, and broken souls are the only trade commodities left.

15. Pills-in-a-Little-Cup: GrayScale Version.
Authored by Reverend Steven Rage, and Steven Scott Nelson

List Price: $12.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
356 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1496028136 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1496028139
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy
Be the first freak on your block to acquire this singular and unexpurgated exquisite culling of The Grim Reverend Steven Rage’s favorite ‘meds’. Enjoy this one-of-a-kind vivid look into the twisted mind of The Most Depraved Writer In Print as he captains you through the intoxicating stain of his wicked imagination.
Included are numerous Photos, Paintings and Illustrations embellished with dramatic grayscale that enhance these iniquitous and magnificent Dark Fantasy fables.
Beginning with a complete novella of Pontius Pilate re-incarnated as a blood drinking drug dealer in the Midwest’s most notorious ghetto. The Harbor is a similar, howbeit much darker version of Mayberry. If Andy, Barney Opie and Aunt Bea resided in a drug infested, post-industrialized urban Hell-Hole with a sky-high body count, that is. Come see and enjoy the vampire’s journey to horrific self-discovery. A evil and foreboding locale, folks are murdered there for less than nothing and, oh yeah: vampires feed there, too. A place where drugs are slung, deals go down and Pilate alone, once again, stands between the profoundly wicked machinations of the organized crime power structure and the death of a reincarnated Immanuel. Will he wash his hands in this life as he has done from the beginning and down through the ages? His drugs, his money and his very life at stake. Not to mention his soul. But life is full of tough choices. Especially if you are the modern dope-slinging version of the ancient Roman Prelate.
Next comes a sick and twisted story of the Black Death. During the height of England’s Bubonic Plague an ancient Evil Force strolls into London-Town in the form of a would-be doctor. It could smell the blood from miles away, wanting only to help. At the hospital where he cares for the victims of this Black Death, the ill come to him unimpeded. They arrived and fell by the scores. With the help of his ever-faithful assistant, Sightless Agnes, a most ravenous cares for them all. Eating his way through an entire hospital, he treats them until there is nothing left. Nothing save their empty eye sockets, a few pounds of leeched bleached bones and some bolts of old dried-out flesh-leather parchment. But the eyes? The eyes of the dead? Sightless Agnes keeps for herself. Seems Fair.
And then our adventures continue: Inky nefarious figments of playing God. Ride with The Reverend as you dally with malevolent spirits, pet aborted fetuses, carnal ghosts, evil grandfathers, hospital-hall hunting serial killers and , oh so much more.
Finally culminating with another full novella. It is a maddening peek behind The Good Doctor’s post-apocalyptic Harbor dug deep underground, beneath the bitter frozen Earth and bear witness to a society ripping at the seams. A not-so-safe haven where monsters and demons dally with the remaining humans. One of the last makeshift asylums left on this planet. Jesus has come, gathered his favorites and loading them into the moving van bound for Forevermore, has skipped out on the rent without a word nor nary a backward glance. Leaving the world to Damnation like an absentee slum-lord while Hell itself has opened wide, belching its denizens forth. The doomed and damned can now come and go as they please. A stronghold where lifeblood is bought for a song.
This incredible edition is replete with all The Ragiastic elements you have come to expect from The Grim One. Proliferate drug-consumption, non-consensual extreme intercourse and all the profane creatures that go bump in the night.
Get in, grab hold and hang on.
This rare sui generis tome shall delight the monstrous aberration in everyone.
16. rage primer: Dark Shit from the Most Depraved Writer in Print.
Authored by Reverend Steven Rage
List Price: $5.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
128 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1456553432 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1456553437
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~ Five Very Wicked Shorts. Brought to you with love and blood from The Grim Reverend Steven Rage, the ‘Most Depraved Writer in Print’. ~
Through the sheer shock of his presentation, Rage forces readers to consider the alternatives, to look at the garbage in the streets, to see what is swept into the gutters at night right before all decent people awake to see another cleaned up version of the day. Depravity at its finest, but really the stories are loads of fun …

17. Spun Monkey’s Digest. Authored by The Spun Monkey

List Price: $6.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
134 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1461167532 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1461167531
BISAC: Humor / Topic / Adult
~ Completely inappropriate humor coupled with dark poetry and flash fiction. It’s more fun than you can shake a dead kitten at. ~
18.  Tales of Depravity and Wickedness. Authored by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage
List Price: $6.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
146 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1484880647 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1484880641
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Dark tales of exquisite violence, rough tricks, narcotics consumption, evil ghosts and drug-snuffling demons. Evil grandfathers and animal-human hybrid clones. Morbid serial killer stalking night darkened hallways of an unsuspecting hospital. Life underground following the frozen apocalypse. Tales of ancient blood-thirsty vampires and Roman decadence. Enjoy all of the hardcore, dystopic, viscerally violent stories. Not for easily offended. 

19. The Fall of a Blood Drinking Drug Dealer. Authored by Reverend Steven Rage

List Price: $7.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
130 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1456508357 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1456508350
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~ Dominion has been taken by those who walk as the damned, demons, Halflings, products of debauched rampages and sins against nature, and then, of course, the vampires. Sex, drugs, and broken souls are the only things of value. Life is more like a disease, and the only salvation is the right amount of Plata to numb the conscience and, if one is lucky, to bring on a cleverly disguised demise.
Introduce into this world a savior, a light for a dark world. Rejected in one life as a man, rejected in another as spiritual being, now returning in the form of woman, Immanuel returns to give God’s creation another chance. Following religious folklore, parables, and beliefs, Rage presents the readers with a God who truly is the Shepherd that leaves no sheep behind. While this tale is deeply woven with the intricacies of a dark, drug-infested world ruled by evil forces, this is the story of a lost sheep. All are God’s children, even the most foul creatures who by their own will have become so through their spiritual and physical copulation with the Devil, and as such, in God’s mercy, still are given a chance to be saved. ~

20. The Mercenaries of Havenshaw Crypt. Authored by D. G. Sutter

List Price: $9.95
5.25″ x 8″ (13.335 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
138 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692360408 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692360409
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Jonathan Moon: “D.G. Sutter takes you into a sticky dark world inhabited with wonderfully weird characters in The Mercenaries of Havenshaw Crypt. Get ready for wicked action and quick wit when you wander through Mr. Sutter’s imagination.”

Jordan Krall: “D.G. Sutter is a Satanic Tolkien, spinning an entertaining story in an infernal world of grotesqueries and humor.”

FOR SO LONG as anyone could remember, The Flagrant Five have ruled the land with an aggressive hand—enslaving children, destroying the wilderness—but Father Necrocious is tired of it all. One of his worst enemies (and a member of the Flagrant Five), Manservant Genesis, has escaped his imprisonment as a shadow.Therefore, he’s enlisted the help of a ragtag group of fabricated Mercenaries to turn the fascists to shadows. The annual Dictators’ Ball is pending (a battle in which children are used as pawns to determine the fate of the free world), and the brothers plan to stop the gala before it can commence. As they weave their way through the cartoonish landscape they will fight with their options to either trap the Flagrant Five with their shadow guns, or disobey their creator’s orders and finally kill the Five for good.

21. The Nightmare. Authored by Rebeka E. Morin, Edited by Steven Scott Nelson

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
152 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1500818364 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1500818364
BISAC: Juvenile Fiction / Horror & Ghost Stories

She ran full speed now; stomping her bare feet against the cold, smooth, stone walkway with no idea where she was headed. Her breathing ached; her lungs burning as she ran for her life.
Suddenly she slipped on a wet spot and land on her side. She moaned in agony. She glanced down to the huge red mark that appeared on the cap of her knee. It stung a little.
But how could she feel something if this was only a dream?
She gritted her teeth as she rubbed her knee, and then she heard him as he came towards her. She glanced up, waiting for the crazed stalker to come out of hiding, and spotted him lurking in the shadows instead. The only thing that she saw was his eyes and the side of his face.
Scary as ever.
He looked at her and grinned wickedly, the overcasting shadows of the outer corner of the stone wall, combined with the flickering light above them, created a deadly feature across the side of his face. He sees her lying helpless. He chuckled eerily, and instantly raised his hand. Her eyes widened to the sight of the gleaming sharp knife in his grasp. He even held it up for her to see it better.
She stared up at him and then to the knife, panting in fear. Her heart pounded throughout her body as he chuckled once more saying deeply,
“Oh excellent. I’ve found you . . .”

22. Transmatic. Authored by Chris Kelso

List Price: $9.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
124 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0615964263 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0615964265
BISAC: Fiction / Science Fiction / Cyberpunk

“…part-time hitman/ exterminator, Ignius Ellis’s dream is to buy a candy-apple red Nova Supreme. In the process of trying to earn enough cash to make his dream come true he gets sucked into the rough world of Visitacion Valley, SF. When the tenants in his apartment complex reveal their various extracurricular activities this take an even more bizarre twist and Ellis soon becomes acquainted with the nightmarish Slave State dimension…

 23. Tumour-Djinn. Authored by Zoltan Komor

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
140 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692347539 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692347534
BISAC: Fiction / Magical Realism

TUMOUR-DJINN:  I ORDER A magic lamp from the internet. According to the seller, it is good as new, and after rubbing the thing, a djinn will come out and give me three wishes. A few days pass, and the package arrives. A sign on the lamp’s side informs me that the product is not suitable for children under the age of three, because they can swallow the small pieces. I don’t know what tiny parts a genie could possibly have, but nowadays they write this warning to everything.
I begin to rub the lamp, but what comes out fails to meet even my lowest expectations. Along with some dark smoke a thin, bald guy crawls out. His skin is all grey, the eyes are colorless pebbles. He hands me his medical charts, like it was a business card or something, which reads: Stage 4 Lung Cancer.
“I never smoked one cigarette in my life!” adds the genie, and begins to cough.
I don’t know what to do with my new cancerous djinn. I keep telling him my wishes, but he just stares in silence, or talks about nonsense.
“I want a tree which grows money as leaves!” I command him.
“I never realized, life can be so short. We are just putting the bricks, one into another, then we try to climb over the wall that we created. But it is so big. It covers the sun.” he mutters, drawing in the air with his pencil-like fingers.
“I want a sports car!” I try again, but he just looks out in the window, gazing the clouds, telling me: “Can cancer grow in birds? Does it kill owls in the forest, or eagles in the mountains? The deer maybe? The giant fish on the bottom of the sea?”
With a desperate look I say: “I want a swimming pool.”
But the djinn begins to cough up blood, and it is damned sure, I won’t get any swimming pool today.

24. Twenty-One: A Thesis. Authored by E. Jayne Forish

List Price: $9.95
8″ x 10″ (20.32 x 25.4 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
108 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692222614 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692222618
BISAC: Fiction / Contemporary Women

“The Routine has this inherent tendency to perpetuate lies, and I speak only in thinly veiled euphemisms — hanging out with friends means going to the bar; being tired means too many sleepless nights on amphetamine; going grocery shopping means robbing Price Chopper blind; filling a prescription means visiting my dealer; going to the bank means pawning my possessions — but refer to them not as “lies;” rather, label them as weak ex-cuses utilized to justify my erratic behaviors.
Not that the distinction between lies and excuses even matters. My locations and actions mean little to the lives that I infect, for I manipulate my stories into such bizarre versions of actuality that no one seems to question their authenticity, thereby validating my words under the general principle that facts are stranger than fiction. Besides, the language of lies often involves a certain element of truth, mere embellishments of the life that I dream to live – all-night hotel parties, never-ending supplies of coke and meth, hundreds of dollars to spend frivolously, high-class bars at expensive ski resorts, private chemists and personal chauffeurs, fame and fortune, and immunity to the consequences of my behaviors.”

25. Vengeance of the Vigilante Roller Sluts. Authored by Gregor Cole

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White Bleed on Cream paper
118 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692293843 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692293841
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

The hands of the girls were inside of each-others zip front grey boiler suits and they sat in the blood from where Sonny’s face collided with the surface. The brunette had a finger smear of it next to her mouth.
“You two sluts put each other down and go tell Moira that Sonny’s done. I’m coming in, just got a little business to attend to first.”
The two girls jumped to attention with a crack of sixteen roller skate wheels on the hard tile floor. They straightened themselves up; wiping away saliva and smudged pink lipstick; zipped up their clothes and teased their hair back into shape with black glossed finger nails.
The two girls sounded off in unison, “Yes sir, Sergeant Tea-pot.” As the two started to leave the big blond grabbed the shoulder of the red head and pulled her back.
“Not you Fire-Crotch, all this fucking blood has got me going.” She started to unbuckle the belt on her camouflage hot pants. “Down you go, bitch!”

26. Warface: A Roller Derby Mystery. Authored by Steven Scott Nelson

List Price: $5.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
92 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1480013285 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1480013285
BISAC: Fiction / Mystery & Detective / Women Sleuths

~ I’m feeling down and dirty, feeling kind of mean, so I give those fans my middle finger. Those poor bastards go nuts. My team looks at me in awe. My coach frowns and the opposing one begins to furiously scratch out new plays. The Warface is feeling her oats tonight and they all know they’re in for a deep snag.
I see our opponents and I almost feel sorry for the poor bastards. Their fans can’t help them. Their coach can’t help them. I’m going to run them off their own track in front of their own fans and there is not one thing they can do about it.
I see my counterpart positioning herself on the outside line. I’ve got my eye on her and I’ve got her number. She is going nowhere. I’m going to body check her narrow ass off the track and into the third row. I hear the second whistle sound.
The jammers are starting to move behind us as I veer toward her. I lower my right shoulder. She sees me at the last second. I smile as her eyes open wide. I get speed, lean in deep and hit her. My jammer, Brute, slides up my left side. I see the opposing jammer shimmy through the wall and I give chase.
Silly rabbit, no one gets past the Warface.
Not tonight they don’t. ~

27. What’s Eating Keegan The Vegan. Authored by Justin Hunter

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
196 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0692356777 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0692356770
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

Keegan is a late-night public access radio show host, sexual deviant, and militant vegan. He has grown tired of his vegan cause being treated with apathy by the portly, meat-gorging, residents of the small town of Breen Gay, Wisconsin.
The time is ripe for Vegan vengeance.
Keegan harvests roundworms from a local vagrant and mutates them using chemicals stolen from the meat packing plant. He infests the populace with the voracious, parasitic carnivores. Keegan knows that the only way for the people of Breen Gay to eliminate the parasites is to starve them of meat. It is with great expectation that he awaits the oncoming utopia of Veganism.
However, the mutant roundworms will not die easily. The problems for the people of Breen Gay have only just begun.

28. Wicked Candy. Authored by Alex S. Johnson

List Price: $9.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
126 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0615954165 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 0615954162
BISAC: True Crime / Murder / Serial Killers

~ Allow me to open the door, guide you inside, and introduce you to a little Wicked Candy. ~
“This is a sweet designed for the discerning Bizzarro fan’s tastes, and I promise, you will not be disappointed!”      –Mimi Williams, author of Beautiful Monster

“A short collection that both traverses the genre lines and melds them together into one masterpiece. Jam packed with horror, laughs, pop culture history and more, this one is a must have for lovers of the macabre, the bizarre and the hilarious.”      –Jeff O’Brien, author of Bigboobenstein

29. Worms in the Needle. Authored by Jonathan Moon

List Price: $9.95
6″ x 9″ (15.24 x 22.86 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
166 pages
MorbidbookS
ISBN-13: 978-0615956701 (Custom)
ISBN-10: 061595670X
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~ That’s the last time she gets the bigger worm. ~
Once their flesh flakes away the angels collapse into puddles of hissing goop and withered petals blow into them hurried along by unseen winds. My spit looses its sweet taste to the black flavor of ash. The glowing birds in the bright orange sky burst into small sparkly novas. The sky itself weeps and tears, streaking down like a ruined painting as the dismal gray of life wheezes back before my eyes. I don’t blink; praying silently for one last desperate sensation of the high.
Lila feels it too. She writhes on the mattress next to me; her moans of ecstasy warping into groans that capture the hollowness of our souls.
Tears form in her eyes and I can almost feel the lump in her throat. It’s gone and she wants to cry. I’d rather chase down more Worms than cry about it but everybody reacts to the Worms differently. I slip away to my own neon colored utopia where things with wings fan me and comfort me when the living neon worm dissolves under my skin. Lila told me once they wrap around her like a giant fuzzy neon hug. I imagine her high shedding off her like snake skin and flaking to the filthy floor next to the mattress. Her high sounds better than mine. More Fun. That’s the last time she gets the bigger worm.

 
30. You Morbid Westphal. Authored by The Grim Reverend Steven Rage

List Price: $6.95
5″ x 8″ (12.7 x 20.32 cm)
Black & White on Cream paper
146 pages
ISBN-13: 978-1481919463 (CreateSpace-Assigned)
ISBN-10: 1481919466
BISAC: Fiction / Fantasy / Dark Fantasy

~ Born whole from the rectum of a dying patient, Morbid silently stalks the hospital’s hallways, heinously dispatching the most helpless of patients and in the most painfully repulsive of manners. ~
In the meantime, in order to pay for his family and home that includes his ghost step-father Sammy and his pet aborted fetus Chip, Westphal has to ingest mounds of dangerous narcotics to get through his night shifts. Barely hanging on to his Care Tech gig by his fingernails, the last thing Westphal needs is to be accused of Morbid’s evil deeds. You, on the other hand, simply want to find some solace. Terminally ill from a virulent infection, and dependent on Life Support, all You beg for a peaceful and dignified demise. Shirk has other plans for You. The ancient drug-snuffling demon makes You relive all of your deadly and venial sins as he tortures You. Night after night. Until eternal Damnation comes calling.

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Order here for KINDLE titles from MorbidbookS. Read Like The Devil.

TWO CUTS OF BIZARRO HARDCORE HORROR “DAMNATION BENEATH THE FROZEN APOCALYPSE”

•October 24, 2015 • Leave a Comment

theplaceinbetweenTWO CUTS OF BIZARRO HARDCORE HORROR from the macabre mind of the grim Reverend Rage. Two sordid tales of demons, revenge, botched suicide, organic narcotics, torture, halflings, freaks, vampires and a post-apocalyptic society coming apart at its seams. TWO trips to the dark side that’ll leave you reeling yet unable to look away. ‘DAMNATION BENEATH THE FROZEN APOCALYPSE’ we return to The Harbor and learn more about The Good Doctor (responsible for creating drugs and mutants) and his created servant, the scene-stealing hybrid man/chimp, Tugmunkee. This one was a bit of a chore to follow, but in the end Rage brings it all together. While some people in the bizarro community frown upon stories centered around drug use, this one works as the “tripping” scenes are just a side-note to the real weirdness. In ‘BLOOD AND BUBBLEGUM,’ we’re introduced to some seriously strange characters who are involved in an ever-growing organic narcotics trade, including protagonist Juan and a fecal-demon that lives in his rectum. This is by far the weirdest entry here, and features a fresh look at vampirism.

M O R B I D B O O K S .  R E A D  L I K E  T H E  D E V I L .

nobody is more brilliantly repulsive than rage

reading steven rage is a little like being a mother who ran out of diapers even though you’re locked in a room with a baby who has been living on nothing but 5-alarm texas chili. sure, there are times when you want to puke, but you can’t help loving the baby anyway. yes, rage is still gruesome, sickening, twisted, gross, horrific, morose, profane, disgusting, morbid, blasphemous, shocking and repugnant. but these are not the only compliments i can bestow upon this promising new author. but we’ll get to that bit later. the 3 short stories that comprise this book are pure rage. the first and last story bring us back to that familiar setting, the harbor. these stories have all the requisite characters and elements that you would expect if you’ve read steven’s earlier work. there are vampire drug lords, addicts, whores, demons that crawl out of people’s rectums, perverted sex and all the dregs of society in the darkest of dark settings and situations. they are well crafted extensions of his earlier work, and there is even an effort to tie some of the stories together. visiting this setting again was a blast! he really did have something to add that was compelling and kept the pages turning as often as it kept your stomach turning. he even threw in a few surprises like an artificially created chimp-man and a sexy chicken or two. the first story relies a lot on the modern street venacular again, while remaining intelligent and creatively devised. the last two stories were not so dependant on modern slang, as the lead characters were not the sort of (shall we say) ‘sludge’ that would need to speak that way. this allows a more clear visage of rage’s ability to exhibit a writing prowess that is more accessible to a wider audience. the harbor stories do give rage fans a lot to be thankful for in expanding the previous stories with bizarre, twisted putridness. yet, my favorite story by far was the title story in this book. that is because rage steps away from the harbor and explores a new setting with a whole new disturbing set of circumstances. i truly believe that if rage continues to grow and expand and explore new horizons (especially in new settings), he can reach his full potential as a great writer. much as before, there is an intelligence to this dude’s work. his gift as a storyteller is being more finely honed in this work. the fact that he has spent time working in a hospital is apparent, and it comes through in his stories. i can honestly say this is my favorite of anything i have read from him thus far. he’s getting dangerously close to getting a 5-star review from me…..and that’s not easy to do when writing something that is so far removed from ‘ordinary literature’. so to sum up…..yes, this has all the disturbing, grotesque, alarming, horrible elements that you’d want to see in 3 strories by rage…it also has all the fine storytelling…..and he is growing and improving as a writer. i recommend this collection of stories, but i also recommend that you (metaphorically) stock up on diapers first. if he keeps expanding his horizons, he will be a supurb voice and visionary for our dark, backward, malevolent times…even if he remains the pessimistic, ignoble saint and demented sick ticket that we all know and love.
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The Whorehouse That Jack Built, by Kevin Sweeney

•October 12, 2015 • 1 Comment
Hello United Kingdom!Available now in Kindle and Print. Click on book cover for Amazon-UK...

Hello United Kingdom! Available now in Kindle and Print. Click on book cover for Amazon-UK…

“It was a whorehouse, but not one open to just anyone. To get there you had to be dying or insane. The services offered were all offered for the same price, which was everything you had. There were paths there that only those who had crossed the border into the Undiscovered Country could find, if they knew the landmarks to follow, the signs to watch for. Clem followed and watched and two days ago his mule had done died of exhaustion and it was just him and Lady keepin’ on who knew how and finally they came to a dead town with no name at twilight and a whorehouse with a sign above the door that Clem could not read: A SOILED DOVE IN A CAGE PUTS ALL HEAVEN IN A RAGE A whorehouse run by demons. A whorehouse that offered the greatest pleasures a man could ever want… in exchange for everything he had. Am I gonna do this? Am I really gonna… The cancer in his belly twisted spikes through his impacted bowels and in front of him lay Lady, a sacrifice. And Clem pushed that door open and stepped across the threshold.”

EXCERPT:

CHAPTER I

His disciples came to him, saying, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds of the field.” He answered them, “He who sows the good seed is the Son of Man, the field is the world; and the good seed, these are the children of the Kingdom; and the weeds are the children of the evil one. The enemy who sowed them is the devil.”

Matthew 13:36-43

The albino rode into town on a donkey.

The creature was descended from the ass that had carried the Virgin to Bethlehem, and was the only creature that could approach such a damned place as it now plodded wearily into.

The albino was neither dying nor insane, and had no place in that town without a name. He had business but no place. He recognized the town for what it was, for why it had no name; names belonged to things which had known life, and this town had never been alive.

The town of Nowhere.

As he had journeyed in he had noted the things left behind. First were the bodies, horses for the main part, though sometimes mules, who had died and been left to rot only a day or twos ride from the town. Mostly they seemed to have died through exhaustion, or failed hearts, though with one or two there were signs of violence, their owners making the insane decision to kill the valuable beasts and continue towards Nowhere on foot.

Closer to the town, as he followed the tracks of men who now walked and those tracks only lead in one direction, he had spied bundles of possessions, the kinds of things folks needed for long journeys, sleeping rolls and sacks of provisions, just left; some were spilled out upon the dirt of the trail, as if they had been dropped as their owners walked, discarded carelessly. Others had been carefully hidden behind rocks and stunted brush, as if the owners planned to return for them but never had.

The albino knew what these things meant. The divestment of earthly goods. As if this were a spiritual pilgrimage.

 The town was a U-shape, like a jawbone with the buildings as teeth. A saloon, a bank, a barbers, a general mercantile, a few houses in between them, ponderosa pine boards gleaming in the moonlight. They certainly looked like places of business and places where folks lived, but if you were to enter any of them you would step over the lintels of doorways onto dust, into rooms bare of even a stick of furniture. Motion pictures were years in the future, so one could not call it a set, could not use that as a reference point but that was all it was, a set, a reason for there being the one true place in town, a real tooth in a jaw set with hollow wooden ones.

The whorehouse. The Half-World.

The trail that lead to this town became the single street of the town that lead straight to the door of a three story parlour. It was a building as unremarkable as any of the others, with the sole difference that this one had life.

Sickly red light leaked from between pulled drapes.

In the dooryard was a fortune in coins and bills, scattered hither and yon, along with watches and rings and crucifixes and other discarded valuables. Not only the obvious items of value were found there, however, but objects that the albino recognized as closer to the hearts of men than even gold or silver; letters from loved ones long gone, mementos of childhood, spoils of war, souvenirs and scars picked up through a lifetime. Whatever was most valued was discarded at the threshold. That was the price of admission, but whatever was most valuable was the price taken inside.

The albino dismounted and hitched up the donkey.

He stood before the whorehouse, preparing himself spiritually for what was to come; he unzipped his pants and pulled out his immense snow-white penis, clasped his hands together in prayer around his cock, and muttered a rosary as he slowly masturbated.

“Hail Mary, full of grace…” picturing the Blessed Virgin, belly swollen with childe…

The albino had pure white hair cut into a monk’s tonsure and pink eyes that he shielded behind smoked spectacles. He was dressed like a gunfighter, an ankle length duster cloaking him. A dog’s collar of black and white at his throat said he was a man of the cloth no matter what the holsters at his hips might suggest… though a closer inspection would show those holsters were not filled with guns.

He got through a dozen Hail Mary’s before he came, blowing a cup of thick semen in fat gobs onto the coin scattered dirt of the dooryard.

He knelt and dipped two finger into the sticky fluid, then crossed himself.

Covered in spider-webs of his own spunk, the albino approached the door of the whorehouse… which opened to greet him spilling blood-light and screams of ecstasy. 

***

The inside of the whorehouse was the size of a city.

In my father’s house there are many mansions…

The door he entered was flanked by eunuchorns, creatures like minotaurs who had the heads of unicorns instead of bulls. As their name suggested, each of the massive beast-men had their horns snapped off and their genitals gouged out. Guards of the harem of Hell. It was they who had opened the door, and watched with hate-filled eyes as the albino strode without fear into…

The albino had once ridden through Monument Valley and the Half-World reminded him of that place of standing rock towers hundreds of feet tall only these towers were Babels given over to speaking the universal language of fucking and they stood not in a desert but a room the size of all the Earth.

The room he had stepped into was vast enough to contain buildings and yet was clearly still a parlour. The door he had stepped through was little more than a mouse hole, and he little more than a mouse, in a parlour whose floor was crowded with dozens of dolls houses… except they had no walls, were only the exposed insides of dolls houses, rooms open to view and in all of those rooms were being committed atrocities of love. In beds, on floors, against walls, straddling insane fuck-furniture, hung by hooks or chains or silk nooses, limbs entwining –legs, arms, tails, membranes, wings- teeth gnashing, biting, chewing, faces and cunts and anuses sucking and gushing and farting out weird fluids, gasps and moans and screams and croaking and laughter colored through and through with madness.

The air was thick with unholy incense and the stench of sweat and semen, heavy enough to leave a sticky glaze of moisture on the albino’s face.

“Welcome, pilgrim.”

Over stimulated, the albino came to his senses to realize he was standing in one of those rooms without walls, a reception room filled with chaise lounges and love seats, all occupied by voluptuous demons of both genders, incubi and succubi, lascivious lamia and perverse imps, rouged demon eyes

(the eyes of goats the goats go to the LEFT)

gazing at him as forked tongues played about lips and teeth. Hungry.

Scattered about the floor of the not-room were dolls houses, all of which were stripped of their walls. They seethed with movement, tiny doll movement. Microcosm and macrocosm. This room was a miniature of the greater room, and at the same time they were both the same room.

“As above, so below,” said the voice that had welcomed him, a Scottish accent, “Aye, and around and around forever, forever, forever.”

The voice was at his elbow. The albino looked down into a face he had memorised from the only known photograph taken of the subject. Marshall McGregor.

The architect of flesh.

The man was a dwarf and ugly as sin itself. Not only this, but obese and naked, his cock an enormous red horn that stood hard and proud from under rolls of hairy fat. The man was nearly as grotesque as some of the demon whore’s who were his concubines.

Born to a wealthy laird in the highlands of Scotland, McGregor’s soul was born as freakish as his body. A life of horrific excess funded by an early inheritance had laid the darkest of trails, a glistening slug trail that lead over a mountain of corpses, until finally he had made a deal with the devil-lord Arcimboldo.

“Many men of the church have stepped through mah door before now, pilgrim,” said the dwarf, grinning, “So, I suppose it’s a few bairns ye’ll be wanting tae fuck? We’ve got a cherubim kept to one side for preachers and priests, though the poor wee thing is a bit ragged around the arse these days.”

McGregor waddled to the middle of the parlour, holding his arms out as if to embrace his clutch of demonic whores.

“Or perhaps ye’d like to see a few more of me possibles first? Eh? Anything catch your eye? What’s your poison, pilgrim? Cunt? Cock? Something a little more… exotic?”

The albino said nothing.

The demon whores began to lazily rise from where they lounged, each approaching the albino one by one. They slid and leered and danced around him, displaying what they had to offer; enormous breasts studded with dozens of bleeding nipples, forked cocks, cunts lined with eyeballs. Beast headed whores, whores with translucent jellyflesh, whores of rusted metal and rotten wood. A demon with a face like a smeared painting whispered filth in his left ear, another who’s every head-hole was lined with white slug-bellies spoke sweetly in the other

The albino said nothing. The demons washed around him, an unmoving rock in a river of filth, foul waves washing over him.

McGregor was massaging the glans of his engorged penis, as big as a fist, sore and angry from overuse. An eyebrow crept up as the albino kept his peace.

“Now what’s this? Cat got your tongue there pilgrim? Having second thoughts? Because if ye are, well, too fucking bad; the moment you stepped through the door the pact was sealed. One night of pleasure such as ye won’t find this side of Paradise in exchange for every drop of blood, marrow, and semen in your body.”

A bulb of pre-come the size of a walnut appeared at the tip of the dwarf’s penis. He thumbed it up and into his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction before winking at the albino.

“And your soul, of course, but most folk who end up here have already forfeited that. So… what’s your poison pilgrim? Make a choice or I’ll choose for ye.”

A drowned corpse with antlers of coral offered sea anemone orifices. A charred corpse, smoke still coiling from empty eyeholes and anus, croaked of charcoal pleasures. A rot bloated corpse promised a gash overflowing with pus and flesh-grubs.

The albino said nothing, but his impassive gaze finally slid away from the tempters to settle on the smirking dwarf.

“Satisfy me,” said the albino.

McGregor stopped fondling himself.

“What’d ye say?”

The albino reached up with two fingers and pulled his smoked glasses further down his nose. His blood shot, pink eyes had no lines around them, making his age an impossible guess; did he not cry, did he not laugh?

“Satisfy me,” he repeated.

The architect of flesh licked his fleshy lips and regarded the albino with narrowed eyes.

“Are ye challenging me, ye gobshite?”

The albino then expressed the first hint of any emotion. He grinned, fast, bright, no real emotion, just a token facial expression by a creature trying to communicate in another species’ language.

“Just your whores. I’ve heard bold claims. I don’t believe them.”

“Ye what?”

“Your possibles…” the albino said, “Mediocre at best. My palm excites me more.”

McGregor rubbed at his jaw and blinked rapidly, realizing that he was being insulted, that his right to this corner of Hell was being disputed, mocked. He stopped rubbing and waved a long, knuckly finger at the albino.

“Ye cheeky shite…” he muttered, rage building, “Ye cheeky fucking shite! Ye come into mah house and ye talk tae me like that? I’ll fucking have your guts for garters ye cunt! I’ll skin ye with mah own fucking teeth!”

The demon whores shrunk back from his anger, though it was not directed at them.

The albino’s pink eyes gazed blandly over his smoked spectacles.

McGregor had threatened, but he had not moved. Of course not. A challenge had been issued, and he had no choice but to answer it. The supernatural world was constrained by laws as tightly as the world of men, just different laws. It was the reason haints could not enter a house unless invited… And why entering the Devil’s house placed him entirely at your disposal, for as host he was bound to his guests every whim.

Marshall McGregor had made his pact and become a subject of such laws.

“I seek release,” said the albino, “The standard bargain. My corpus for satiety. I doubt I’ll get it, judging these.”

McGregor ground his teeth.

“And if ye are unsatisfied by my whores? What stake do ye expect from me?” he asked slyly.

But the albino was slyer still. The grin returned.

“Nothing. Hell hates to forfeit. Hell will hold you accountable.”

McGregor bared his teeth.

“Ye cunt,” he spat.

“As you say.”

 McGregor rushed him, thundering forward on ponderous legs, his whole disgusting bulk in motion, his still erect cock bobbing. But he stopped short of actually touching the albino, his hands clutching at the air as if to rip him limb from limb.

The albino did not flinch.

Powerless, McGregor raged, every obscenity on his lips in a torrent of threats and promises and extravagant claims as to the albino’s future.

That gentlemen took it all with bland indifference.

The occultist eventually ran out of puff and stood glaring up in raw hatred at the man whom he had extensive, gruesome destinies planned for.

“Ye cunt,” he whispered.

The albino said;

“Satisfy me.”

McGregor turned and stalked away. One of his whores didn’t see the danger quick enough, and in a moment the heavy hipped creature with a sea horse head and tail was disembowelled. It was a reflex of anger, thrown away without thought.

No matter how comical his grotesque appearance, the dwarf was still one of the most dangerous humans on Earth.

The demon whores fell upon their sibling and ate her alive.

McGregor stomped on a dolls house and immediately, miles distant in the greater room, one of the massive buildings collapsed with a sound of thunder.

The albino was unmoved.

The architect of flesh finally reined in his passions enough to stop destroying things, and when he did inspiration struck him.

“Satisfaction is what ye seek, is it?” he asked, his back to the albino.

Above the sound of the whores eating, the albino said it was.

“And ye don’t think any of my possibles here are gonnae do the trick, is that it?”

“Any of them? All of them? None of them.”

McGregor turned around, and once more he was the courteous host.

“Sure, ye’d be a connoisseur of cunt then, and not just any pilgrim. Yes, ah see plain enough now! Ye will have to forgive me, its not like the sort of souls we’re used to here have what ye’d call refined pallettes. No, no, none of these possibles is suited to a connoisseur. Ah find myself embarrassed!”

The albino had been warned of this line of reasoning. It was a loophole for a demonic host to wriggle out of responsbility.

“And seeing as though ah can’t offer ye anything up to ye high standards, embarrasing as it might be, ah guess that means ye are…”

“I want the Vestals.”

McGregor’s act of gracious humility vanished in a moment.

“Ye what? The… how the fuck do ye…” the dwarf’s eyes narrowed. The past decade of endless debauchery had addled his wits, so that only now it dawned on him to ask the question that mattered; “Who… what are ye?”

The albino’s sickly eyes sparkled.

“Your questions,” he said, “Who, what, don’t matter. Why… I have been sent by the Sisters of the Immaculate to end what you began in Whitechapel.”

The albino was normally a man of few words but he had prepared these for some long time as he tracked the occultist to the very edge of the frontier gleaning clues from whispered talk around campfires and hog ranches and missions until his final tip from a Pinkterton agent gutshot and dying in delerium had lead him here to the very edge of manifest blasphemy.

“I’m here for a sexorcism.”

The albino’s filthy poncho fell from about his shoulders to reveal that he was naked underneath except for a pair of spurs and holsters that held not guns. He was coyote-lean and moon-pale, his sinews a map of bite scars, his back furrowed by claws in ecstasy. A rosary of razorblades wrapped around his right wrist. Between his legs hung heavy his circumcised cock, a rope fist-knotted at the end; it was enormous, though more shocking still was the colors of it. Rainbow hued, from root to bell head, all seven shades from red through to violet.

McGregor had bound demons to his whim and now was bound himself by the lore of the land; he could not refuse the custom of any who crossed the threshold willing to trade. Even if they came asking for the rarest of pleasures, pleasures that he kept for himself, and even then only indulged lightly.

 Forget the exaggerated sex between its thighs, this sickly looking creature wouldn’t survive Mary, let alone the others.

McGregor grinned to himself. Then he began to laugh. His laughter grew from deep chuckling into great bales that rolled about the not-room. The demons who ate of their kind leered up with bloody mouths and joined the laughter, teeth claggy with smouldering flesh, screeching and hooting like beasts.

“Ye come here wantin’ for the Vestals… a pasty wee ferret-faced fucker like ye? By Christ, the Sisters aren’t what they were if they’re havin’ to recruit the likes of ye! Ye may be as big as a fuckin’ donkey, but the Vestals…” the dwarf stopped laughing with a snap, “I’ll have ‘em save ye skull so’s I can shit in it.”

If the albino took note of the threat he showed nothing, just gripped his cock with both hands and began to work his inches, impatient. He swiftly began to stiffen, to swell.

“Fancy talk’s finished. Where’re the whores?”

   The dwarf’s face turned red, then beetroot; his mouth opened and closed like a fish, unable to find anyway to express what seethed within him.

   And then his color cleared. His eyes darkened.

   “Alreet,” he said, and clapped his hands, twice.

In a moment everything was different, as if they were in a theatrical production and a scenery change had been called; the skeleton architecture of the room and the Hell-Whores themselves were whipped away up into the darkness until the albino and the dwarf stood alone and exposed surrounded by doll houses on the floor of the vaster room filled with mansions.

The dwarf stooped and picked up one of the dolls houses and the albino recognised it as a replica of the outside of the Half-World.

“D’ye want a wee peek at what’s tah come?” asked McGregor with a sneer. He lifted the roof of doll whorehouse and tilted it towards the albino, who caught a glimpse of five miniature rooms; one was a squalid garret, another inside of a redskin’s teepee, and yet another was the inside of a backwoods shack, filled with bizarre taxidermy. But what were the last two rooms? The glimpse gave only impressions, one of an Egyptian tomb, and the other a cave with crude paintings on the walls…

The dwarf snapped the lid down and dropped the model building on the ground at his feet and at once an entire building dropped silent from the darkness above to land behind him. The effect was disconcerting indeed, as if an elephant had plummeted to Earth only to land as softly as a feather. More disconcerting still was the fact that it was the building they were already in, the Half-World.

(as above so below)

McGregor grinned.

“Ye ever seen those Russian dolls preacher? Little wooden things they are, one nesting snug inside the other, and another inside that, and another inside that, and on and on.”

The door to the Half-World opened. No light spilled out, but shadow did, as if it had substance.

The dwarf’s eyes never left the albino who was striding past him, titanic rainbow hued cock swinging.

“Five vestals, preacher,” said McGregor, “That’s what ye asked for, and that’s what ye’ll get. For yer flesh, for yer blood, fer yer seed and yer soul. And when they’ve finished with ye…” the albino paid no notice, disregarding the dwarf, who became incensed, “Wha’, hoy, ye divn’t DARE ignore ME ye cunt! HOY! Ye cheeky gobshite, ah’ll fuckin’…

The albino was already at the threshold. How many Hell-Whorehouses had he sexorcised? How many of their owners had made tedious

speeches about how they were going to defecate in his hollowed skull, and wipe their rectums with the ragged remains of his soul?

Not slowing, without ego and so without fear, he stepped into the darkness as the dwarf raged behind him in the vastness of the outer room;

AH’LL HAVE YER FUCKIN’ GUTS FER GARTERS YE CUNT! D’YE FUCKIN’ HEAR ME? AH’LL…”

The door closed and the silence of the darkness was deafening.

*

Within the house was a ruin of a parlour room, cold, dark. The roof was long collapsed to expose a sky full of constellations never seen upon Earth. The door he had passed through was one of six that lead into and out of the room.

The parlour was the kind of room in which gentlemen would pass the time waiting for their favorite soiled dove to become available, reading, smoking, or dreaming of what was to come.

This ruined room was strewn with broken furniture, scattered books. Upon one wall hung a sampler in a shattered frame. Whores had to pass the time too. Needlework kept clever hands clever.

The albino gazed around the room, and saw each door had a name burned upon it, or scrawled in chalk, fingered in blood, carved with a bone knife…

Mary Maggie Darling.

Bear-Maiden.

Grandma Spuckler.

Clitocris.

Ginger.

The albino’s gaze settled once more upon the sampler hanging crooked upon a wall of rain warped boards. His eyes favored the pale glow of the alien constellations, adjusted easier to it then to candles and gas, and by weird starlight the albino read this message picked out in stitches:

The PARABLE of the LOCK & the KEY

The LOCK that can be opened with many keys is a Very Bad Lock.

But the KEY that opens many locks is a Very Good Key.

A key turned. A lock opened. A door began to open and within it was darkness into which the albino walked naked.

END EXCERPT…

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Letters To Dionysus

I'm a nightmarist, baby.

whipstitchbitch's bipolar sewing bananza

a bipolar girl who loves sewing

poetreecreations.org

THE BEST OF POETRY

Indie Hero

Brian Marggraf, Author of Dream Brother: A Novel, Independent publishing advocate, New York City dweller

bdhesse

A writing WordPress.com site

Dave's Corner of the Universe

Where strange fact and stranger fiction collide

The Dystopian Nation of City-State

A cruel, futuristic vision created by science fiction authors James Courtney and Kaisy Wilkerson-Mills. ©2013-2016. All Rights Reserved. All writings available through Amazon.

Beautiful Life with Cancer

Discovering the Gift

WELCOME TO THE MEAT PARADE

NEO-BEAT PROPHETS DRIVEN BY HORROR TRANSMIT TELEPATHIC BIZARRO INTO THE AUDIENT VOID

The Ignited Mind !

"If you are resolutely determined to make a lawyer of yourself, the thing is more than half done already" - Abraham Lincoln.

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