Chapter 1 Preview

Chapter 1 (excerpt)Please enjoy this preview of MBOTA: Chapter 1, suitable for a festive weekend of consumption that will hurry our world on to sweet oblivion. And don’t forget to read the Prologue, which is like Chapter Zero but with an earthier flavor.


It was Scavengeday, second day of the week, so Super, Flapman, and Gibson emerged from the Grotto to see what goodies they could find or haggle for or steal out in the ruined world. The entrance to the Grotto was hidden under a collapsed parking garage near the city’s waterfront. Or at least what used to be the waterfront of what used to be the city. There really was no city, per se, anymore. Nor was there an ocean now. Instead, there was the Cromulent Zone—stretching from the entire eastern third of the hemisphere and continuing across the dry ocean basin, until it reached its limits against the Atlantic Mountains—the only portion of the Earth that was not utterly uninhabitable. They were in the northern part of the ravaged planet, and though they had heard rumors that some life continued its miserable existence south of the wobbly equator, everyone knew that was absurd.  Continue reading

Thor: Ragnarok Review

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Derek: So, here’s our very first Half-Baked Review Chinfest, which I am very excited about! This is a chance for us to bring our unique take on movies to the public. Personally, I think we took the prudent course by letting the Internet mature for twenty years or so before launching this column. No point in rushing, right Mark?

Mark: Right, we’re like a properly aged cheese. But hopefully better smelling.

Derek: Well, if we’re cheeses, then I call Emmentaler, which like me, is Swiss and smells of fresh-cut hay! And speaking of cheese, let’s jump right into the review of Thor: Ragnarok, the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s third foray into the world of Asgard and Midgard and a lot of planets and dimensions. Continue reading

Prologue

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“Flapman, tell me the story.”

Super Patriot Boy, he who sought the story, lay still in the narrow cavity of his BrixDyne Corp. FrostiSnooz Model 6 sleep/storage crèche. The crèche was a gleaming white cylinder, and in the dark room, its industrial precision jarred against the organic crags and ridges of the stone walls. His request was spoken to the cool, still air, and he had no way of knowing if it had been heard. A few green and yellow status lights along one side of the interior of the capsule, indicating that the occupant was technically alive, cast a warm glow on Super’s head, pale face, and bare chest. Continue reading