Memories TOTALLY not about Vampire the Masquerade (or us).

Vamp-Ire the Mars-Parade – Last Brouhaha Standing

© Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights reserved

This is amateurish roleplayer sermon, unworthy of highest academic standards!

Helpful LINK:

http://whitewolf.wikia.com/wiki/Vampire:_The_Masquerade_20th_Anniversary_Edition

There comes a moment, when the own ego no longer bathes us in ignorance, and we realize that midlife crisis is just another mainstream simplification. Real Life rarely looks as polished, as the Movies. Real life hurts us with or without justification, and that real life was worth it for a while, as it brought all the joy, all the sex, and all the indulgence we loved, too.

For some of us letting the own facade down is difficult in precisely the solitude which would allow us to keep it secret. Still it is not just another misery loves company. It is one of those social rites which even the non-occult-crazed can understand. Some by instinct, some by gut-feeling, others due observation or prudence.

The little talk is set in generic city, and specifically into a cheap generic diner of it. Even the protagonists admitted that they ain’t special enough to craft out a unique background!

Adrian: Another coffee, please. Lots of lactose-free milk and sugar.

Waitress: You sure they’ll show-up at all?

Adrian: *shrugs*

And while customers enter or leave, and the waitress does her job, Adrian stares into the nightly sky, drifting into the tear-jerking nostalgia once more. A decade since his cat had died, and years after the loss of Huggy Woman. Life’s been the longest road this bummer ever had to walk. Life.

Dodging his own tears his eyesight falls upon the Brouhaha T-Shirt they all purchased for their meeting. ‘Better dead than uncool!’ its slogan. What foolish, youthful pride they had once fallen for.

Thurston: You still owe me money!

Adrian: Mistaken Identity, Sir?

Thurston: Not again…

Adrian: Sorry, stock market courses, global porn-strike, and a dire need for drugs!

Thurston: Seen the Doctor?

Adrian: Yes, as if gut-rot wouldn’t be enough. It is DJ LC early on stage.

Thurston hesitates for one blink of an eye. But then he regains his composure.

Thurston: So the Afterlife-Mafia may come soon?

Adrian: Only the Bosses know, J.T.

Thurston: Oh, dammit. You forgot ten university graduations and fifty ex-wives with one heart-failure, but the one thing you remember is…

Adrian: The darkest secret of all who ever came close to me.

Both chuckle, as the minor quirk of using his middle-name did stop worrying Joshua-Thurston decades ago.

Brakeman: If I wouldn’t know better than I’d say that my business associate has fallen for another bum’s tragic tale!

The voice of Brakeman makes both other Brouhaha jumpy. It is clear to see.

Thurston: Please, Sir, gimme a coin!

Adrian: Dear Mr. Brakeman, did my office fail to inform you that our business appointment has been shifted to the 30th of February, and from London to Tokyo?

Brakeman: Hm… *suspicious look*

Now three Brouhaha chuckle, and one waitress summons her ‘no-nonsense composure’, delivering a coffee to Adrian and asking the other weirdos what they want to order. The Fennesea-Roleplay Sermon they discuss DOES make the waitress pray for a Nerd-Slaying Serial, but so far none shows up.

Thurston: Vanessa?

Adrian: Wasn’t she pregnant?

Brakeman: Her husband considers it ill-suited to know her associated with the Brouhaha any longer, I daresay.

Adrian: Daresay, that is his version of ‘I guess’.

Brakeman: *stares the traditional daggers into the eyes of the lowborn loudmouth*

Adrian: Didn’t you two, both, marry your roleplaying wives? Queens of Hearts and so?

Thurston: My old boy is feverish. Had no choice.

Brakeman: Business calls on the morrow, sorry.

Adrian: Any sense in waiting for Bestial and K?

Thurston: Bestial seems very busy doing body-building.

Brakeman: And even we uncovered some of your TOTALLY harmless notes about the state of the art concerning K! *glares at Adrian*

Adrian: mea culpa, mea maxima culpa! *poses theatrically*

The bummer fetches a menthol-cigarette from a package, and lightens it afire. Inhaling, coughing, inhaling once again, though slower and focused on it, struggling.

Thurston: That is really a new low.

Brakeman: I had hoped you felt tempted to point-out being different, but that’s really it. Lung Cancer for those useless tobacco sticks, and not the slightest regrets?

Adrian: I regret a lot, being me has never been part of that though.

Uncomfortable silence lurks for one moment, but decades of practice let the trio snap-back into the spirit of the True Brouhaha instead!

Adrian: Twenty years on psychology websites, and not one with a solution. Most with the same stereotypical explanation. Dammit, Vamp-Ire the Mars-Parade was simply the best we could achieve, no more, and no less.

Thurston: Oh, that night the Sabot struck I really thought we were dusted!

Brakeman: I must have been absent.

Adrian: Aye!

Thurston: Yeah!

Adrian: Nothing hit us harder than that fairy tale crossover!

Brakeman: Except the next adventure, maybe.

Adrian & Thurston: True!

Brakeman: And then you decided to switch sides, Join the Sabot, any memories why you did so?

Adrian: No, truly none. Maybe the inner turmoil of being one of the two Satanic Brouhaha anyway? Nah.

Brakeman: Hm… that deep fall you took does indeed remind of the Bali Clan.

Thurston: And now two Corporate Brouhaha listen to the Devilish Sermon of the one Satanic Brouhaha?

For a mortal in midlife crisis it does make so much more sense. In secrecy most of us had heard songs like ‘Forever Young’ or ‘Who wants to live forever’, too. Few above age 40 wouldn’t consider a Faustian Bargain to become a Brouhaha Brawler Punky instead of withering away, lost in their routines of career, family or failure. It DID all become alike somehow. Mortality is a burden to live with, and it grows more heavy with every day we grow older, and thus grow consequentially weaker.

Adrian: Dreams of Today are Ego-Bursts of tomorrow, it is Cola time!

*Another social rite is indulged*

Adrian: A toast, for those forced to go before their true time had come!

Thurston: A toast, to the Society which hosts us!

Brakeman: A toast, to the future awaiting us!

Adrian: Now let’s shake-off this sentimentality, as if any of us would have ever aspired to be part of the Brouhaha!

And so it was done. Right in time for a cellular-phone call to reach Brakeman.

*Emotionally-Touching Moment my prose couldn’t get written* 😉

Brakeman: Sorry, I have to leave early, but one last thing, Adrian, care to accompany me to the car?

Adrian: Until this becomes another gay-sex orgy we never had for real!

Brakeman: *eyes rolling*

Thurston: Don’t worry, I drive our lil Bummer home!

Brakeman: Good, but that’s not it. Let’s go.

Adrian and Brakeman walk towards the parking lot.

Brakeman: So you die like a stubborn mule instead of asking any of us for help?

Adrian: I was tempted, but it is the price for my own choices made.

Brakeman: Can’t you imagine that somehow WE ALL see that a bit differently? No man is left behind once held real meaning, you know.

Adrian: Sorry, never had a course on how to save a life the casual & cultivated way, I daresay.

Brakeman: We pay the best doctors money can buy, and you will struggle against the Cancer, as much, as you have struggled against every damn norm in your entire life!

Adrian: Ayouch!

The Bummer Brouhaha is visibly wracked by pain, crashing to the ground. And rising up again quickly thereafter.

Adrian: *cough*… I am fine!

Brakeman: Yeah, THAT is clear to see.

Adrian: Olaf, get home well, greetings to your wife, and be ready, when your newborn needs a father!

Brakeman: Well, err, thanks. I ‘guess’. Are you crying?

Adrian: Nah, just a tear-jerking from the pain! Now saddle-up, Cowboy!

Brakeman: Until next time then!

Adrian: Yes, until we meet again, Corporate Brouhaha!

Returning to Thurston in slow motion the face of Adrian displays an enervated, tired composure.

Thurston: So we came to save a life tonight. Did we?

Adrian: God may know. Time to drive home.

Thurston: Yes, Milord.

Adrian: Yes, Milord, let’s eradicate those degenerate devil-worshipers once and for all!

The car drove with maximum speed, clearly ignoring the laws. Both passengers were pressed into their seats.

Thurston: Does he know?

Adrian: Will we live long enough to find out?

They both popped some pills, swallowing greedily…

Thurston and Adrian looked at each other…

Thurston: You still doubt any chance of an Afterlife?

Adrian: Outside of porn? Yes!

The impact killed both of them quickly, as they stopped being ‘uncool’…

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Blood Bowl – Fan Poems

I hope it will become a collection of poetry, but actually I only wrote it, as the purchased Legendary Edition didn’t give me the Code to play it.

 

Poem 1 – Stormvermin!

© Andrè M. Pietroschek

Stormvermin eagerly charging to touchdown

fans cheer, or boo, in each Old World town…

Victory, an easily usurped crown!

 

Poem 2 – Gutter Runner

© Andrè M. Pietroschek

The Gutter Runner sprints, touchdown on his mind,

but he’s brutally tackled, an Orc blitzed from behind!

 

Some Micropoetry Prompts answered…

A repetition of some micro-poetry aka short poems, which I twittered, partially due prompts by the Micropoet Society. See Micropoetry Website

The Occult Streak
© Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights reserved

The fairy giggles & the demon lies
as shadows darken my every night
Insomnia is that Witch demanding
that I’ll shun slumber & WRITE!

Poetry Prompted
© Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights reserved

Poetry is the union
of insight & wisdom
or passion & thought
which only the nemesis
called critics may DISTORT

Marriage and Muse
© Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights reserved

Lost was the time
we’ve been waiting
 for each other
to dare loving again
Let’s not regret
so Death won’t be
the only one who rejoiced…

Saturday Night Special
© Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights reserved

Crime-rate arose
& dark is the night
cower in fear
or dare living ur life
With my future bleak
freeing you
was the best I could do

Easy Way’s Price
© Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights reserved

Each false friend
puts a shadow
unto the only Light
you still have left
to find your happiness with!

Playful meeting with Baron Samedi!

I have faith that it doesn’t insult the Loa, as it is not meant disrespecting at all. So today I stumbled about one of the more atmospheric game-books turned clickable HTML. Just click the LINK below to check it out for yourself:

Fighting Fantasy – Bloodsworth Bayou

A worthy site for Authors of Crime Fiction!

I can happily give this hint:

Ben Sobieck Website

Because he is not just an expert on guns, handguns, knives, and how to write their usage realistically, Ben is, too, a friendly and humorous fellow…

And if you love reading full book-length: Don’t stop with the cost-free fiction Ben has on his own page. Follow the next link to see that he generously shares full books with all of us, too!

Ben Sobieck at Wattpad dot com

House Greyjoy Pun – Game of Thrones Poem

” Winter is here, said the gluttonous white walker during the last eclipse – Your iron-throned kingdoms shall get their own zombie-apocalypse!”
Game of Thrones – Crude poem of a Greyjoy vassal
© Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights reserved
The iron islands breed a tough folk and many pirate crews
Still to survive we have to be reckless when trouble brews
Rapacious our blood-lust, for which many of us are feared
Our way a pirate-pilgrimage, for the Drowned God steered
House Reaver shunned no Duty, no shame, and no regrets
Ive sired my own children and got into noble ladies’ beds
The golden kingdoms scorn us, with blades and wicked lies
For we do not fall prey to glamour, as we pay the iron price
Dreaming that Kraken guides me and Sharks salute me, too
Faith in our Drowned God, it was damn always proven true
Power, Looting, and Feasting, oh joy, i loved that all the way
Maybe I cannot return, still i really enjoyed my precious stay
I had loyal Captain’s, and gathered many fine sworn swords
If you dare it, like I did, you live and die like highborn lords
From mate to real reaver, lord of my own banner and house
The iron way is often bloody, so I never asked any applause
My daughter came of age, & she straight shanked her old lord
Her cutlass in my guts, as she smiled & kicked me over-board
Farewell!
Spontaneous Remake © Andrè M. Pietroschek, inspired by
Game of Thrones – Ascent https://www.disruptorbeam.com/games/game-of-thrones
& my favorite Greyjoy Wallpaper at Deviant Art by Tapion32
http://tapion32.deviantart.com/art/We-do-not-sow-330950486

Flashy Fairy Tale – Deviants & Dragons

Deviants & Red, Horned Dragons

Humorous Minimalism & Flashy Fiction © Andrè M. Pietroschek, all rights reserved

It was the age of fairy tales in the wonderful kingdom of Deviancy RT. Long centuries of joyful productivity and happiness were only rarely disrupted by the craven deeds of the wicked. Yet now once again it had come to this.

Two evil advisers had convinced the beloved king to accept a ‘political-marriage’ between the virgin and the knightly Horned Dragon. The nobles of Deviancy RT, just like the vassals and commoners, found nothing wrong in a sign of trust. Though they were, alas, wrong.

Evil had arranged for a virgin who would be all but harmless. Necessarily, as the enormous costs and efforts to keep any evil teen a virgin for years were nearly indescribable. And knowing of the compulsive do-goodhearted attitude of Deviancy RT, Evil could connive at its scheme.

So it came to be that the heroic Horned Dragon of Deviancy RT, a unique specimen of his kind, was lured into a sinister trap spun by his fiancee the Evil Virgin. Long had the fiendish Frigid schemed to thwart the plans of the Evil that had dared to force her into a nunnery.

And when she had found the old Grimoire she had discovered a way! She would sacrifice the most powerful good soul in all the land to bargain with a Demon Prince. She planned to sacrifice the honored Red Horned Dragon.

Deviancy RT had long lived in peace. And still, in this fierce crisis, the people of the realm did not falter. On the contrary, the best heroes and heroines of the Land arose to rescue the good, loyalist Dragon from the bewitching Virgin.

And so an epic journey began and a mighty quest awaited the heroic souls of Deviancy RT. Many challenges had to be overcome, plenty of grisly monsters had to be neutralized…

Until finally, the four greatest heroes and heroines of the Land found the evil Virgin and interrupted her Satanic Ritual. Freed from the wicked magic, the Horned Dragon himself delivered the false fiancee into the prison she deserved, the dragon’s stomach!

The Land having been pacified, he decided to marry a Horned She-Dragon and waited long hours until the first eggs began to crack and the future of Dragonkind was secured for Deviancy RT. And they lived happily ever after, until this author is merely another fantasist and a liar! 😉

THE END