The Rudiments of Success

The Rudiments of Sucess

by: A.R. Jameson

“I assure you, this site shall be a place of exceptional profit,” Lester Bryant said as he stood with the local sheriff atop a ridge, staring out over an apparently worthless looking spot of land. “More than enough for any one man.”  Continue reading “The Rudiments of Success”


The Whore’s Penny (I)

The Whore’s Penny (I)

“Now if you don’t mind, I have a travelling group of whores to attend to.” Mr. O’Brien said with greasy sneer. Danyard was not appeased.

“Hey now we agreed you owed me ten million dollars. Not just gonna back out on that now are you huh buddy old pal?”

“Do not address me thus. I’m neither your buddy nor pal and I certainly am not OLD!” Mr. O’Brien puffed up like a balloon filled with so much hot flatulence. Continue reading “The Whore’s Penny (I)”

Heat Death Apocalypse

Condensed systems collapse, malfunctioning
Laws of existence betray, concept of reality forever altered;
Expansion into the void ceased upon gravitation
The Second Law forced reversal, impossible to be created impossible to be destroyed;
The enigma of all that is.

Cycles unwind – manifestation in chaos,
Interlopers; creation ending creation, life that ceases life;
Manipulation of reality, supreme intellectual lunacy.
Predicted to proclaim themselves as God, inherent fate of beings
Sentience that has blessed us.
Sentience that has cursed us.

Slaughtered on the alter, born from blood;
Witness the latter days – bowed before their gods,
Endless bounds of entropy invokes the end of all things.

The Cutthroat

The Cutthroat

by: A.R. Jameson

He lay in the alley covered in piss and shit and waited for his target to leave the tavern. This old bugger was not your ordinary sort of burglar, oh no sir, he was a rat thief. And rat thieves went any where rats do, every place no normal individual would dare venture to explore.

She came out then, looking awash in fine linen and well pampered hair. Her friends were with her. Laughing, chattering, obnoxious group of hens. They were of little concern, however. The daughter to the Viscount Demetris was sure to have a fat sack of coin on her person, not to mention something ever so more sweet buried between her thighs. The cutthroat licked his lips in anticipation and followed at a safe distance.

When they reached the top of the hill and turned down a desterted street, that was he chose to act. A growl came from the pit of his gut, like a dog, but it grew louder and louder. They group turned around, thinking some lost pooch was looking for dinner. They weren’t far wrong.

Suddenly he transformed into a snarling wolf, then bounded upon them and dug his claws ferociously into their flesh. Her guards stabbed him through the heart and he bled to death on the street, cold and lonely and just a little bit hungry.


OF Lobo And Grimon (LOTR fanfic parody)

Of Lobo and Grimon
by: A.R. Jameson

“The kings of the west have forgotten their purpose,” Lobo spoke up of a sudden as they pushed the little ox cart through north Shire on their way to Hobbiton.

“Hmm?” Grimon was eating a carrot in the passenger seat next to him and was paying scant attention to his musings.

“The Kings of Gondor and Rohan!” Lobo smacked Grimon upside the head. “With Sauron dead for over six hundred years they have lost site of what made middle-earth a truly mystical land.”

“Well, what you gonna do about it then, Master?”

“As simple hobbit brewers, nothing. Nothing but pay the wretched tax on our goods and absurd toll fees to use the roads. King Agron has truly lost his wits over the last century.”

“I need to have a piss,” Grimon declared. He began to stand as while the cart was still moving, swaying dangerously whilst he attempted to undo his breeches.

“What are you doing? Get down from there!” Lobo reached up and yanked Lobo back down with a hard thump. “You drink entirely too much of our product. At least let me pull over first.”

The cart rattled to a stop by the side of the road and Grimon hopped off. A few seconds later the sound of a urine stream could be heard ruslting the grass. “Ah, now that’s better.”

Just then a trio of ruffians trotted up behind them. Three stout hobbits in ragtag armor sat atop stouter ponies, their faces hard and broken in several places. Typical Shire outlaws.

“Well, well, what this?” said the first one, a bushel of red hair and bulbous nose.

“Looks like a pair of fools thinking to ride our roads for free,” answered the second, scar across his cheek stretching as he smiled.

“Come on now, lads. We already are forced to pay the king’s tax for the roads, you’re really going to make us pay a second?”

“Why do you think we charge a toll in the first place? We have debts to cover.”

Red hair drew his short sword, the scarred one trotted up close. “Well well, looks like we got ourselves a haul. A good shipment of ale to boost our profits.”

Red hair licked his lips. “Hand it over, then, less you want steel through your belly.”

Lobo and Grimon watched as the brigands made off with their cart, left with nothing but their underpants and the noonday sun beating against their bare backs.

“Would this be one of those hard life lessons you’ve mentioned to me so much about?” Grimon pondered.

Lobo sighed. “I’m afraid so.”

Grimon scratched his head. “And what is the lesson?”

Lobo raised his fist. “That… we need to get ourselves a wizard. And some better smallclothes.”


The Injector Valve

The Injector Valve

by: A.R. Jameson

Miles Winslow smiled at the woman who walked into his shop.

“Tell me the time of day and I’ll be happy to become your devoted slave.” He told her. She smiled back at him.

“That is most excellent news. Tell me, have you come all the way from your own land just to repair old ships and putter after the faded glory of washed up captains?”

Miles blinked. The question seemed to have taken him aback. “No, my lady. I had higher hopes, once upon a time.”

“Then it is a sad thing you are here, covered in grease like a loser.”

Now he became tempered. “Hey, bitch, listen. I ain’t got time for your musings. Either tell me what you want or just get the hell out of here.”

Then she laughed, which he almost couldn’t believe. “I am seeking discreet passage across the War Zone and into Athalia.”

“Oh.” Miles thought a moment, then looked to his still unrepaied ship. “I suppose I can manage the voyage.”


Miles Winslow and his beauftiful companion died instantly when an injector valve ruptured and the ship exploded.