Tag Archives: Zodiac

Horror Horoscope for Halloween

27 Oct
Totally legit.

Totally legit.


As a special thing for Halloween (or Samhain, or whatever), I am pleased to present this treat. No tricks. In fact, this has been put together by the best psychic I know. It is guaranteed to be at least ten percent more prognostical and prescient than any other horoscope you read this week. For reals. Enjoy!

Aries (The Ram / Fire)

Something you thought was a lie will reveal itself to be true, and take on new meaning. It could be your gentle nudge in the right direction. Or, the stars are laughing again. They’re laughing. They’re laughing at you. At you.


Taurus (The Bull / Earth)

Everything you eat goes somewhere, Taurus. But where do the doughnut holes go? You have holes inside you, Taurus. Holes. You can’t prove a negative, my friend, and you cannot poop a hole.


Gemini (The Twins / Air)

Your secret heart is in danger of ruination, Gemini. It burns, can’t you feel it burn, all the way down to a blackened cinder. Use that fire, my friend, and do the first thing that comes to mind. Fan those embers into a bonfire of fury. Burn something.


Cancer (The Crab / Water)

Why not help a stranger? The pieces will start to fall into place and the world will begin to seem fresh and new – full of possibility and hope. “Today you, tomorrow me” is the innocent phrase that runs through your head. Of course. The Karmic Wheel must turn for the Good Samaritan.

That’s why you flick your turn signal and pull over. Yes, it’s a dark, desolate highway, but the man standing by the station wagon’s open hood seems nice enough. He’s middle aged, with a spare tire around his waist and he’s going bald. Harmless. That’s the word, isn’t it? He reminds you of your cousin – the shy one who never talks at the family reunions.

This doughboy is smiling a big, sheepish grin. He seems nervous and overly grateful you stopped. The chill in the nigh air cuts through your shirt like a knife. You’re still acclimating to the weather. You haven’t even lived here for a whole year yet. Middle aged man points his tiny flashlight at the grimy car engine and shrugs. He doesn’t know what wrong with it, he says. It just sputtered, revved up real high, and died on him.

You shiver at the cold as you sidle up to the engine and lean over. There is something terribly wrong under the hood. The oil – the black, sludgy grime – is crusted and gritty and hot. But there, right behind the radiator, there is no fan. The battery is gone too, and the alternator, and the whatchamacallit. Where there should be nine hundred pounds of Detroit steel and the powerhouse behind a century of American-made car pride is you mother. And she is furious.

How could you have done this to her, Cancer? Is it that you really don’t love her at all – or is this the only way you can show your love? Some perverted, sick, serial killer dream-turned-nightmare, set loose in your subconscious mind. Why are you backing away? Where do you think you’re going? Help her, damn you! Help her.

Oh, it looks like she can move on her own. She’s unfolding her legs and arms – far too many for her to have – and she’s raising her voice. She is using your whole name to call you out. One after another, after another, her greasy legs stretch out of from under the hood. And your breath catches in your throat, your fingers pry at the door handle to your own car. The red glow of your taillights shine on the thing that is your mother. She puts her feet on the ground and lifts herself up, into the freezing cold night. Up and up, all black, grimy arms and sharp fingernails, her massive belly looms higher and higher. And you can’t even breathe, or speak, or open the door of your car.

The balding, round-faced man shrugs and looks down at his feet. He smiles an embarrassed, gap-toothed grin. He and your mom have been seeing each other. It’s pretty serious. They wanted to wait, for the right time. He hopes you and he can become friends.

You spill backwards, but the gravel on the side of the road doesn’t break your fall. You tumble into the icy earth, beyond the reach of the starless night, and the screams of your mother’s voice. Your name, Cancer. She is still screaming your name.


Leo (The Lion / Fire)

Don’t look to your community for help. They’ve been against you for years, Leo. Make new plans. Grab a partner and see how far you can make it before the inevitable happens.


Virgo (The Maiden / Earth)

You already know what to do. Why seek a confirmation of how awesome you are in these lesser creatures who pretend to be your peers?


Libra (The Scales / Air)

Want to make a million dollars in real estate? Sure, go ahead. There is no reason to delay, or study the complicated market. Go on, jump in feet first!


Scorpio (The Scorpion / Water)

So, you wanna move on, huh? Do you really think it’s the right time? Can you just throw it all away – everything the two of you meant to each other! – and just run? Go ahead, run. See if you can outrun yourself, damn you.


Sagittarius (The Archer / Fire)

The power to do the right thing is in your hands. Or maybe your pants! Hey, I know – it’s probably in the pants of the next attractive stranger you meet. Sure, that deep, ache of longing to connect to another human being might fade for a second or two, but it’s worth it. Right? It’s worth it, just to forget who are you – what you are. Is there anything you won’t do, in pursuit of oblivion, Sagittarius? We all know the answer to that.


Capricorn (The Goat / Earth)

Birth control is a terrible idea, if you want to get pregnant. And who doesn’t want to get pregnant? Men, that’s who. Don’t be a man about things. Get knocked up. Feel the wriggling, black, worm jism of some shadowy force make its way inside you. Let it fill you up, germinate within the folds of your soul. Pregnant, Capricorn. Pregnant.


Aquarius (The Water-Bearer / Air)

Turn a new page in the book of your life. Once you do, you’ll see there’s more to the big picture that you can possibly see on just one page. Who cares if your book was found in a haunted house, next to pit of discarded corpses?


Pisces (The Fish / Water)

Do you want to know what the future holds? Well, you better get used to not getting what you want. Tough titties, friend. Isn’t it enough to know that the hammer is going to fall? Oh yeah, it’ll be soon, but you don’t need to know exactly when. It’s better this way. When it happens it will be a shock, and your face will blanche in terror. Icy pinpricks will crawl up your spine, and the utter, permanent enormity of your fate will show itself. You’ll wish for a moment more – for some brief respite, or a chance to reach out for help, for mercy. But there will be nothing. If only someone would warn you, Pisces. Oh well.



Transmission 02

5 Mar


::transmission 02::

“The Lion & The Robot”

<> <> <>



The robot stepped into the screen cube and was aware. People were watching, judging, appraising. Lights flashed and a curtain was raised. It was time for the hunt to begin. The robot was aware that it was the prey – the hunted, the prize. But the robot was different from all its kind who had come before. This would be the last hunt.

An announcer read the name and category of the hunt and the prize. Although the robot was incapable of feeling pity, sympathy, or any other emotion it did feel something. It was like a feeling of elation, or anticipation. For a dozen years it had toiled and waited for its time.

<> <> <>

The Scorpion and the Twins looked on in amusement as the Lion fidgeted in his uniform. First he adjusted the mane, then the retractable claws, and then the belt of tools and weapons about his waist. He seemed uncomfortable in his own skin, to say nothing of the golden, furry biosuit that was draped over it.

“Just don’t worry about it,” the Scorpion said. “You can’t control the hunt, just your own part in it.”

One of the Twins chuckled. “That’s what he should be worried about.”

The Lion growled. “You’re not helping,” he said.

“C’mon, guys,” the Scorpion said in a soothing voice, “I’m trying to get him focused.”

“Bah, focus,” the Lion muttered. He moved away from the dressing room mirror and prowled a tight circle through the Green Room. “That was what they said last time. That I needed less focus, that I was trying too hard. Well, now I’m loose. I’m ready to react. To strike.”

“Okay, good, go with that,” the Scorpion said.

“That’s right,” the Twins said. “Who’s the king of the jungle?”

“Yeah,” the Lion said. He puffed his chest out as he walked.

“You are,” the Scorpion said.

“That’s right,” the Twins said and began to bob their heads. “Yeah, that’s right. You are. You are the king, baby.”

“I am the king,” the Lion said. He flexed his arms and popped his claws out. “I am the goddamn KING!”

“Hell yeah!” the Scorpion shouted. He slapped the Lion on his fuzzy ass, right next to the ropey tail. “You go out there and show them who and what you are! They are never going to forget you. Never!”

The Lion growled again and lunged for the door. He pawed it open and bounced into the hallway, under the sapphire glow of the backstage lights. In the Green Room, the Twins and the Scorpion looked out the doorway and shook their heads.

“Isn’t it the female lion who is usually the hunter?” one of the Twins asked.

“Yeah,” the other Twin said.

“Guys, just drop it,” the Scorpion said with a sigh. “He’s gonna do just fine. This is the year for him. I can feel it.”

In unison, both of the Twins snorted dismissively.

<> <> <>

The Lion couldn’t believe his luck. Everything was going his way – exactly as he had always pictured it. At the start, when he had moved through the big screens to the small ones, he felt vulnerable and edgy. The early reviews picked up on his confidence and it fed his ego. He knew that it was inevitable, the hunt would have to go his way.

Every time, the trail to his quarry ran along the same route. Past the rows of flashing lights, along the bloody spattered trail they called the red carpet, and into the theater of pain. Head held high, the Lion did not rush, but slowly stalked his way towards the darkened chamber. He had been this far before, of course. There were pitfalls and traps everywhere, but his sense of righteousness propelled him. As his eyes adjusted to the cavernous hall, he saw his prey.

The robot’s metal skin was a brilliant gold, so shiny and obvious that there was no way it could hide. In contrast, the Lion’s fur seemed dull, perhaps even faded. To the Lion’s surprise, the robot did not try to run, or hide. It stood its ground and appeared to challenge him. For a second, the Lion’s resolve flickered. There had always been other hunters, he knew. Victory had been snatched from his clutches before, but this time was different. This time, his prey was just sitting there, goading him into taking what was rightfully his. The Lion knew it was his for the taking and he lunged for it.

<> <> <>

The Lion had fallen into a pit trap. It was filled with short, sharp nails – brads, really – which pierced the hide of the Lion in a million pricks. Around the edge, a collection of people leered and jeered at the Lion’s flailing and pained roars. The Lion recognized some of them. They were a group of terminally ill consumers from Texas. Medical tourists, he thought, or maybe death voyeurs. Every time he twisted or tried to gain his footing, he sank deeper into the nails. He seemed to freeze in a kind of resigned paralysis, as if he refused to try harder than he already had. This made the buyers laugh all the more. The Lion knew that across the world, audiences were judging him again. Even in his failure he strived to be admired, respected.

The golden robot stepped to the edge of the pit and looked down at the Lion. A spark of life was in its eyes. Its stare chilled the Lion to his core and unnerved him further.

“For twelve years, I was a slave,” the robot said. Its voice was feminine, foreign and strong. “And now I am free from your pursuits. Forever.”

The Lion, the audience in the cavernous hall, and the people watching around the world were amazed. Never before had such a thing happened. There was no precedent.

The robot continued. “I am free,” it said. “And you – none of you – will ever possess me again. I give back to you the name you pinned to me. You can keep your Oscar. I wish to be known as Her. Remember what you have seen here today.”

A high pitched keening noise rang out in the air around the robot. Only a fraction of a second later the robot’s neutron powered core exploded. The radioactive fireball filled the theater and incinerated every soul within it. The mushroom cloud stretched miles into the sky. The blast rippled out in all directions, pounding flat buildings, burying cities, and poisoning the air.

In his final moment, the Lion understood. All of his striving, his work, his efforts – they had always been for nothing. He never stood a chance. And much to his surprise, he was okay with that.

<> <> <>

::end transmission::