Small Time

Before she was a success Niamh paid her dues on the mean suburban streets of Sometown. She'd be up and pounding the pavement by seven even in the chilliest weather. At first, her skills were few and often fizzling.

As the weeks wore on she sometimes only played to an audience of one. Her fridge looked pitifully bare at times and her boyfriend begged her to marry him and leave the tricks to others.

 Niamh was a survivor, however, and continued to ply her flash paper and light show to whomever showed an interest. She even brought her daughter Fiona along a few times. Bring Your Daughter to Work day started early in those days.

 Then came her big break. With help and advice from another magician she set up her stage and got ready to summon her doves and miracles from their dark recesses. From where he sat her husband could see the audience was staring down its collective nose at her and he decided to take action.
This show, being more about flashing than flash paper, was quickly cancelled.

In disgrace, Niamh returned to the streets; to her small yet fiercely loyal following. Someday she would be a roaring success. Until then, she'd entertain her way.
And her husband isn't allowed out of the house unless he's dressed.

The End

The Great Zombie Race of 2017

For several decades Zomb Incorporated has found itself in Reaper, Death, Rot, and Tomb's ugly shadow where the Great Zombie Race is concerned and the eminent law firm has never let us forget it. This year the race turns 3 centuries old and we are determined to win this time just to show those braggarts how real zombie shamble!

Steve Withered from our Central office is a fine shambler and our best chance to win this year. He's come in 2nd place in the last five races. "I just need to start training earlier." he assures us. How does four in the morning sound?

There's more than training involved in a race. Each year we have a fundraiser with the proceeds going to Brain Freeze Labs as we hope that someday we'll find a way to eradicate the debilitating warm fleshbag disorder. But until then, we go from door to door asking for funds and support for our runners.

 Of course, those poor souls already afflicted by WFD cannot possibly understand our goals. They usually refuse to help. "Yeah, it's frustrating but what can you do?" Mark Palsied said with a shrug as the door slammed in his face. 

On Race Night, won't you join us in cheering on our team to victory? Steve and the rest are counting on you, as are the thousands of zombies that are stricken with warm fleshbag disorder every year.
And don't forget... the more of us there to cheer our team on, the better the chance we have of beating Reaper, Death, Rot, and Tomb! Join us for the Great Zombie Race of 2017!

Proprietor's Convention

The Monochrome Order of Proprietors met at 9 A.M. and began with a reading of the Charter. They grumbled inwardly at the thickness of the snow that lay underfoot. Winter conventions were always the worst.

After lunch more snow began to fall so they decided to inspect the stage for defects before returning to their chairs to discuss various important matters for the upcoming year.

And at the end of the day, they seconded and passed their motions and started for home.





The End