Nono’s Store

We were all living at Aunt Nono’s store at the time: My Father Kevin and Mother Nancy as well as my Younger brother Ryan. Aunt Nono was in California when it all started so we had no idea where she might have been. The electricity was out for a few months and so we were still getting used to making fires and lighting the old oil lamps Nono kept around the antique store. It had a cozy back room with a fireplace, all wood paneled walls. The front room was about as boring as any store front, and it’s big front windows saw through to the strip mall enclave outside.

I was never a big user of technology and my parents grew up in the 80’s so I don’t think the internet crashes really hit us as bad. Their big thing was the lack of comforts. It took hours to boil the course rice from the bag we salvaged and our clothes stank from lack of any running water to clean them. It bothered me too, but I could see it bothered them more.

But my brother, he never lived in a world without phones and the internet. Even as we sat by the fireplace with the pot boiling rice and the low firelight flickering across our downtrodden faces, he would take out his precious phone and the foreign blue-white LED light would splatter into the dark. His eyes wide and grasping for hope that he would get a connection again. Each time, it became worse to see; I just wanted to take it from him and throw it into the fire, but I could see it gave him hope and that was the resource that could afford any cost.

“Why don’t you just throw that damn thing away!” my mother said. Her face twisted with frustration as she huddled under Aunt Nono’s blanket.

My brother said nothing but clicked refresh on the unopened web page.

“Didn’t you hear your mother!” my Dad said by the firelight. He threw in a leg to an antique chair and the smoke smelled like varnish.

“Maybe it came back up! The government was trying to bring it back in places.”

He clicked refresh again and I could see tears in his eyes. I reached over and put a hand on his. He looked over suddenly with wide eyes.

“You’ll waste the battery.” I said

Slowly he clicked away the screen and put it back in his pocket.

“We’ll try again when we can move.”

The first month or so we had to live this way, sitting by the fire waiting for the rice was full of conversation. We’d reminisce over things and the places we went and how things might get closer to how they were. I always knew that things would never go back to how they were. I didn’t say anything, but I think they knew.

Now we just sat by the fire, watching the flames like the enigma of life. The only sound now the lapping of its magic tenderals on the pot, the snapping of ancient wood, and the occasional bolt of thunder beyond the thin confines of the house. There was no telling if it was natural thunder or not. The silence with each other was a fearful and tense comfort.

We had to find things to occupy ourselves. Nono’s store had a collection of strange knives and I learned pretty well how to throw them and a series of marks embedded into the far wood panels of the wall showed practice. My favorite was a sort of curved knife with a curved handle of bone with a large pommel at the end. I would idly learn how to spin it between my fingers. I taught my brother as well.

“I’m gonna look outside.” I said, standing.

My family looked at me.

“Be careful.” My mom said.

“I’ll look too.” My brother said and got up.

Beyond the thin wooden door was the storefront, still full of junk and antiques which were now of little value except to burn. An old globe, the kind you’d see in old movies in some rich guy’s study, stuck out among brass poles to a disassembled trundle bed. Coffee tables and handcrafted chairs with floral patterns on their cushions from a bygone but not a dissimilar era.

The big glass windows that looked out to the big parking lot showed the rubble and deep holes gouged into the tarmac. The other stores in the old strip mall plaza were dark. Old cars, either smashed into twisted metal or burned to a solemn husk littered the cracked and jaunted pavement. In the distance, a tall building was engulfed in flame. It had been burning for two days.

The sky was clouded with a low overcast that had been present for nearly a month, and tiny speckles of rain formed on the glass panes. Under my poncho and my brother under his blanket, we moved to the window and looked up. Beyond the clouds flashes of orange light could be seen and their mystery was terrifying and out of our control.

The two of us just looked and said nothing for a long moment.

“What do you think is going on?” My brother finally said as booms and rumbles reached our feet.

“I don’t know. The government could be trying to fight them.”

Suddenly an object burst from the clouds far away. Behind it carried a streamer of blue flame and debris broke away and spiraled in streaks of blue.

“look!” My brother said.

The object became more clear, and it seemed to be nearing us. An aircraft of some strange design. I couldn’t see any wings and my brother adjusted his old rayban glasses to see better.

“Get back.” I said as the craft broke apart further, it’s hulk rocketing down.

The craft struck the burning building and the largest part skipped off of it in a shower of fire and rubble. It moved very fast now in our direction and crashed against the smashed pavement at the edge of the parking lot. The sound was a tumult and the ground shuddered under our feet as it came to rest at the far end of the plaza.

From what I could see, it was not a government plane or design at all. Wordlessly we watched it as blue flames rose up to the heavens.

From the side a door could be seen opening and we pressed up to the glass to see. Several small blue humanoid creatures exited it and milled about the wreck, they had weapons of some kind and red spines flaring off of their heads. At the distance we were, it was hard to tell what they were doing, but they were the survivors.

“It’s them.” I said, and the primal fear took hold. We looked at each other and both bolted back to our parents.

“We NEED to go.” I said

Mom and Dad both looked up at us, breathing heavy.

“What is it?” My dad said standing.

“A ship or something just fell and some of them  are out there in the plaza.”

We took no time to hurry our things together. The hunger was what lead my dad to strain the half cooked rice, pouring the water over the fire and make for the door last with the pot in his hand. We left the embers for whomever might find it.

The four of us moved swiftly as we could out into the woods next to the highway and we did not stop moving until dawn rose the world into a grey.

Activity Update

I salute you. Thanks to all my followers and readers, you are great!


So, For those of you who have been waiting for more Sci Fi fox or Good & Evil, I should not, but I must make the same unfortunate excuse as anyone who makes comics, that it takes a while. Since I’m not much in the way of drawing, It’s not that I’m working on one page for all this time, but I hope to put up many pages at once at once rather than keep the story so segmented for both. Issue 2 of G & E will be done soon. It’s a couple pages longer, But I will reboot the past issue with it.

Anyway, if you like my writing at all, please don’t hesitate to let me know. If you don’t like my writing, well, no one asked you. If you don’t have the attention span to read, then I guess I can only blame you for being uncultured swine. Since the majority of people rarely read past the first sentence, this is kind of an inside joke right now between you and me (hehe).
I made this poster, more comics will be soon, for now I leave you with space police:



The fence.

How broken are our ties,

When words and hate surround,

When those charged with truth spin lies,

And spill pollution in minds abound?


The alternative is useless or risk,

Drift out at sea with a meek little sign,

or stand and throw stones or bricks,

what is worth to stiffen my gutless spine?


To say that I can fight what crushes us,

or feign peace to cover my fear,

Of the bludgeons and tearing bullets,

That lash upon those who do not adhere.


Though I may cast no stone, I still may still yet be broken,

Words are not so easily killed and safety is an illusion.









Alexo’s Dirge


Souls of wicked men,

Fearful wretches all,

Charge now if you can,

Let your trumpets call.


Your energy fills my mouth with slaver so,

Your lives are forfeit to the earth and Alexo.


Evil deeds so ripe,

Do not cower now,

Fortunes made in life,

But now recall my vow.


Oh  you laughed and brayed in your revelry so,

Your lives are forfeit to the earth and Alexo.


See how well battle serves,

When your footstep on spring knives,

See how well formed your words,

When the air sucks away your lives.


Try to fight the cradle that saved you though,

Your lives are forfeit to the earth and to Alexo.


“Homo homini lupus”

“Man is a wolf to man”


The Roman phrase is attributed to the playwright Titus Maccius Plautus in 195 BC from his play “Asinaria (The One with the Asses)”.

The time he is attributed this phrase is odd when you consider that he died in 184 BC… oh wait never mind.

In either event when we consider the various wars, crimes, and atrocities, committed and still being committed around the world, this phrase evokes a very distinct feeling: that people are cruel to each other. Even in a scientific light, the idea that the major predator to humanity is humanity itself shows through in this phrase. The fairytales of bloodthirsty wolves hunting humans or monstrous demons preying on us through the will of cruel gods might have been prevalent in  Plautus’s time (dispite the similarities between ourselves and Romans) but in today’s world the thought that man is the consumer of man seems to embody the abysmal nature of our race upon the earth.

It is through this phrase that we look back on the struggle and pain we have inflicted on ourselves.

Plautus: wrote play with several asses involved. Said cool shit.

Plautus: wrote play with several asses involved. Said cool shit.

But perhaps the phrase is not so simple,

Man is a wolf to man has a very unique possibility for a Roman because of the well known story of Romulus and Remus. The jist being that the Cane-and-Able-esque twins who began the Roman culture (and in fact show the notion that in order to hold power you must betray a brother) were left as orphans in the wilderness but taken under the wing of a wolf mother (no relation to the band). The story and many artistic pieces show the twins sucking at their adoptive mother’s teat.

In that sense “man is a wolf to man” could also be seen in the sense that man is a mother to man.

In this understanding (and in all writing before the modern era) the word “man” refers to all humanity.

Humanity is a Wolf to Humanity may be PC but it just doesn’t have the same ring. The essence being that the same could apply if it was Woman is a wolf to Woman.

I realize there are some inherentcies I’m making but I didn’t come up with the phrase.

Humanity is a predator to humanity
but Humanity is a mother to humanity

We kill each other, but we gain sustenance from each other. We hate each other, but we love each other. We resist each other, but we need each other. We end each other and we create each other. Which does in fact sum up the paradox of humanity.
If there were not so many people maybe less people would be murdured….But then we might get eaten by wolves.


Wolf: Can beat you in a bare hand fight. Apparent soft spot for roman babies.

Wolf: Apparent soft spot for roman babies. Can beat you in a fight.



Life is not a process of getting to some plateau where everything is fine and every objective is completed. Society isn’t some entity that will solve all of our problems. Once a problem in the past is dealt with a new one arises. A triumph in the moment becomes the watermark of your trajectory and you wonder if that really was a triumph or something that makes you worse off in the end.  You are constantly battling the forces around you, who these other people are and what’s expected of you while at the same time you battle yourself  in whether you’re making the right decisions. What type of person  you are becoming, who have you become takes on a dark beast inside of you. In the moment you feel that you are exactly who you want to be and are comfortable, there is always lingering that something might be missing.

At the same time all those around you try to pick apart what you really are.

Maybe the ancient Nords had the right mentality. Not necessarily going off and killing people, but sallying forth into the world with your armor and sword just for the joy of playing the game of life.  I sometimes wish I could just detach myself a bit more or take on a more concrete philosophy.

The High points come with the low and vice Versa. perspective is everything, but when things don’t line up, and the world is all around you and you know it could just continue on without you just fine. When love is beyond your grasp and your looking for something better than all the bullshit rules of engagement. Or when the place you’re in grows stale and those ideas and theories that were full of passion have become something else. When you look back at times in your life with regret and fear for the future. That is when the enduring spirit must come through you.

Words have meaning, and even though people exaggerate now more than ever, when someone is sad, they are in a low place. If things feel as though they are falling apart around you, or that no one cares, or that you can never become anything greater than where you think you are.

Remember that there is greatness within you. You hold all the potential of the universe to make things happen. Even the sick and dying have more effect on the world than those who live in their neat little spheres of life. Life is not always a high point and whether it is others or yourself that you are battling, you are the hero of your own saga.

And you have the strength.


Live on and fight!


valkyrie, “do you recognize my voice?”

So I recently watched The movie Valkyrie which was the story of an assassination attempt on Hitler. Anyone who grew up watching the history channel before it became all aliens and puns on pawn might have heard about it and throughout the whole movie I was expecting what to see at the end. What I didn’t realize was how close the Germans were to actually overthrowing Hitler’s regime and ending the war.

It got to the point where the reserve army commander had arrested the entierty of the SS and had an order to take Goebbels and Hitler’s inner circle.
The coup de ta was so close under the assumption that Hitler was dead. Except the something like the scene below changed the reserve commander’s mind from following through with the coup.

“Do you recognize my voice?”


“nein it’s me…you know yah?”

“pshh, uhh, not sure. say something again?”

“How could you not tell who I am from my voice?”

“People sound different over the phone, I don’t know what game your playing at. This is a serious situation.”
He puts down the receiver and points a gun at the propaganda minister. The cyanide capsule clicks in Goebbles’ mouth and the government changes hands ending WWII.

I don’t know, I know suspension of disbelief and all, but I can’t imagine that’s how it went down.

That said, this scene was very powerful

The uniforms seemed pretty accurate and there must have been a pretty good production budget for the Messerschmidt in the beginning and the desert battle. That said again, Nazi’s talking with British accents never really stuck to me. Everyone but Tom Cruse had one.