The Big Finish: Reboots, Remakes, and Rehashes. It’s the New STD.

Reboots, Remakes, and so on. They’re a hit and are done every so often. This is a parody of such. It’s another look at writing and styling evolution with RJM in this episode of The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God.

Heya, folks.

We are revisiting The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God this week, starting off with Episode Nine aka Crash! Wham! Alakazam!

This particular episode revolved around the idea of scrapping the whole series together, rebuilding it, etc. You know how a lot of shit gets remade, rebooted, redone, etc. etc. etc. etc. until you want to puke your balls off? Yeah. So, I played with that for a lil bit.

I was playing through Fallout 4 and I had Nat King Cole come on.

“That Nat King Cole. . .such a swell guy.”

Well, I thought, “How should I go about destroying my precious?” As I listened to the song Orange Colored Sky while I fired my Fatman at my unsuspecting settlers (after rounding them all up, complete with nuke mines, etc. I think I have a recording of that still. . .). Anyway, I thought that would be the ticket. Since I was The Maker and we had already established breaking the Fourth Wall, we would go with “death by boom!”

I also had a Star Wars character an alien make a cameo appearance that said a. . .notable line—ish. I thought of an idea where I could start going balls to the wall and bring in other characters. It was put on hold. . .

How I went about the death of The Wasteland Bear God was pretty fun. I didn’t want to make it by another character or that sort because they had no right. Plus, he has plot armor. He’s like a “Mary Sue” or “Green Jesus” but isn’t Green or a Mary Sue. He’s a Bear God. You get the idea. He can die but he can also be resurrected if it is appropriate. Maybe get the seven Dragonballs and yeah, you know.

It was also the first time I had a “holotape” record action, dialogue, and start the process of making it be an all-in-one kind of deal. It’s part diary, part tape, and all out ball sweat explosion.

The raunchy stuff is still there. The sexy still happens. Then it all goes to hell. What happens next? Well, I guess you’ll have to find out. . .

Until tomorrow,

RJM


The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God Logo

The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God

Season One: Episode Nine

[Crash! Wham! Alakazam!]


“Some say—that from the ashes will rise an ally, and that ally will be a kind of key. . .a key to the gatekeeper. Where there are no ghouls, only Dana Fembots. Pray, friends, for if they are released upon the world. . .Feminism will have our world by the jollies.” —Bhal Aundy, Children of the Lost Marriage 1:03

[The scribe was kind enough to enclose an audio holotape for your eargasm pleasure.]


Day 42.

Since my last battle with Rubricon, the crater hasn’t been disturbed. From up to the north, where we’ve traveled to, we can still see it smoldering; billowing gray puffs to the skies above.

As I promised my flock, I took them to the Lakeshore Creamery for some Ice Cream. I ordered each to get their own and to have as many scoops as they wanted. They seemed quite content. Tara, Shana, Tama, and Tata all seemed to get very. . .aroused. . .by licking their delicious treats. For one minute, they’re sucking, biting, and licking their frosty treats, and then the next, they’re stripping and repeating some said actions to one another, with their treats. Some even started defecating [the rest of this passage is indecipherable].


After they finished their act, showered, and I killed the creamery staff for slipping a concoction of Buffout, Psycho, Mentats, Jet, Deathclaw blood, Mirelurk eggs, RadAway, and Mutifruit; which resulted in some sort of ecstasy. Some associate had called it a “Pudding Pop,” or something like that—whatever the case, it was unacceptable—NONE MAY TAINT THE BITCHES OF THE MIGHTY BEAR GOD, LET ALONE MY FLOCK!

I will have my minions ransack the place, and we shall stay for the night. The ‘shrooms, or whatever they had in my sundae have given me an unpleasant stomach ache. Maker above, I will probably be squirting this shit out for hours. Ugh. At least there is toilet paper around this time. Albeit, I do think my flock enjoyed cleansing their Mighty Bear God—probably too much. I will have to reaffirm this. Later perhaps.


Day 43.

I sent a few of my flock to check on the crater where Rubricon fell. They have yet to return. It’s been awhile, and I do hope that that son of a bitch stayed down. Maybe I should have hit him harder—or played a different song. Whatever the case, if they don’t turn up soon, I will be forced to leave them behind. Waiting makes my loins quiver in uneasiness.

***

Ricky, Dicky, and Flub came back. Finally! They report that the crater is vacant and that there is no sign of Rubricon. I suppose it was to be expected. He is a fucking rabbit. . .and when rabbits fuck, they’re just as bad as cockroaches. They just get everywhere!

Wait. What’s that? There’s an orange. . .fiery ball. Ah, shit.


[Scribe Tetanus recording here. It seems that a massive fireball has fallen on top of The Mighty Bear God. It seems to be a round metallic capsule of some kind. There’s a window, though it’s not view-able—too dark to see what’s inside if anything.

Wait it appears to be moving. Yes! Yes, it is! It’s moving! The Mighty Bear God—He has risen!]

[chanting ensues over the recording]

“What. . .the. . .hell?” The Mighty Bear God remarks, having lifted the space capsule off his person, and rolled it away. “No, seriously, what the hell is this shit?”

[The capsule hisses with the release of an airlock, smoke, and ozone escape it.]

A pair of oversized dummy black eyes peered out into the sunny Wasteland. A gray smooth-skinned alien poked its head out, slightly alarmed by its surroundings.

“Greetings, Earthlings. I am Captain Ack—” a raspy voice escaped from the alien’s fish-like lips.

“NOPE! NOPE! NOPE!” With tremendous might, the Mighty Bear God booted the alien into the capsule, picked it up, and then hurled it back towards whence it came.

The alien yelled over a loudspeaker, “it was a traaaaaaaap—” which could be heard for several moments until it dissipated over the horizon or back to space. Wherever. Anywhere but here.

The flock looked to their Almighty Bear God, who spat at the dirt beneath him. “I am not doing that. Aliens exist. I get it. There is no way in hell that I am going to include them! Not now! Not ever! YOU HEAR ME?! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

[Beyond the world, above and far beyond, eyes peered in. The Maker sighed and rolled his eyes. He continued to construct, deconstruct, create, destroy, and pretty much do whatever the hell he damned well pleased. He typed out a note and folded it into a paper airplane. With a gentle breath, he sent the message to his recipient.

Out of the sky, there flew a brilliant piece of paper. One that defied all logic and reasoning. It was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. It landed in the Mighty Bear God’s paws. He unfolded it and read it to himself.]

“If I want aliens, I will fucking put aliens in. If I want you dead, I’ll make you dead. Remember. . .

You’re my bitch, bitch. Go fuck yourself.

With Love,

The Maker

The Mighty Bear God’s lips curled, and then a scowl came over his face. “What a cunt.”

[Soon after, another white piece of paper came floating down and then, with a great surge of speed, plowed into The Mighty Bear God, practically destroying the area.

On the unharmed, the pristine paper had the words scrawled: F-Bomb. I win. 🙂 ]

THE DIARY OF THE WASTELAND BEAR GOD IS AN ONGOING A.B.NORMAL PUBLISHING EXCLUSIVE STORY BY ROBERT J. S. T. MCCARTNEY. CHECK HERE FOR MORE

The Diary of the Wasteland Bear God — Season Two — Episode Two: That’s No Space Station

Space. The final, but not really final, frontier. These are the sentences from episode two of The Diary Wasteland Bear God. There’s more to come!

The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God LogoEpisode One: Parts One and Two


“There will be no mistakes this time.”

He said aloud, with the only audience being himself and the computer that listened obediently at his commands.

Blitzkrieg stared out the massive bay window that now looked upon the planet Earth. The moon base had been completed well ahead of schedule. As a “thanks” for their service, the remnants of The Toymaker’s forces were obliterated—discarded to the frigid void of space.

He grinned, his reflection mimicking in correspondence. He thought he was so clever. He had used his comrades, bided his time by rising the ranks, infiltrated The Toymaker, and seized control of the most powerful weapon ever made by mankind; more powerful than any nuclear weapon.

It was no mere moon anymore. It had been mined, artificial gravity implemented, terraformed and programmed for self-sustaining, complete recyclable materials, biodegradable waste, satellite TV, fiber optic internet, nukes from orbit, lasers, one gigantic laser, an open bar, buffet, and free Wi-Fi. It would be the instrument to usher in fear in the galaxy and would be the crowning achievement of mankind. None would be able to challenge him or this space stations capabilities.

Blitzkrieg was no fool. Unlike his predecessors and colleagues, he studied meticulously. He knew about the one-meter wide port that could destabilize the base, and cause it to blow up. As such, he had ordered the sealing of all holes that could, otherwise, be really bad news if it were to be sabotaged. Body scans, a wall, missiles, lasers, increased tariffs, bans and employing banhammer bots; these were just extra…precautions.

Yes, he would bring order and chaos to the galaxy, just as he always intended. Even if it made no logical sense in destroying worlds and ruling empty space. Logical fallacies. . .were some peoples’ strong suit. Regardless, he had plans. As such, he wanted to start by punishing the planet that birthed him a horrible past, and one unfaithful wretch that cheated on him with that asshole taxidermist named Daryl from New Georgia.

Blitzkrieg raised his voice, “Computer, set the laser to fire at Earth. Location, New Georgia.”

The computer paused, processing the request. “Acknowledged, Commander. Firing will commence in. . .three days.”

“What the?! Ugh, why does it have such a long charge time?” he facepalmed.

“Lack of human and, or, servants has made it harder for self-calculation, preparation, firing, etc. Commander.”

The console beeped, reading “one percent” on it. “I suppose I should manufacture some bots then. It is a new age, after all,” he grinned.

Yes, it was clear this time. Crystal clear.

“There will be no mistakes this time,” Blitzkrieg smiled to himself.

***

While Ben and the others all welcomed back the Bear God, a shiver ran up his spine. A disturbance that foreboded a very, very, very bad thing that was going to happen.


THE DIARY OF THE WASTELAND BEAR GOD IS AN ONGOING A.B.NORMAL PUBLISHING EXCLUSIVE STORY BY ROBERT J. S. T. MCCARTNEY. CHECK HERE FOR MORE POSTS!

It’s Better to be Beaten Off. . .Than Beaten Up.

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[Missed the last posts of The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God?

Click here -> Uno! Dos! Tres! <- ]


A Mirelurk pops his head up in front of a black screen.

“Hi! It’s me, Ben. Everyone’s favorite Mirelurk in the Wasteland. You may know me from The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God as the Bear God’s Right Hand. . .or The Herald of Destruction. Well, not too many people were excited that I got a little more screen time, or with my change after the incident with Jahn Trabolta. Let me tell you this, I frankly don’t give a damn. Some were even upset that I may be plotting against the Bear God. I am here to tell you that *SPOILERS*”

After a lengthy and long-winded speech. . .

“. . .and with that you can go fuck yourself. Until next time! This is me, flipping you off. . .with claws.”

Ben smiles. Well. . .if you could actually see a Mirelurk smile. He’s smiling though.

The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God

Screen fades to black. . .some more.


Last time, on Diary of the Wasteland Bear God. . .

Rubricon confessed his love for nuts. While the Bear God was getting bitch slapped through walls and getting acidic jizz-shit-blobs in his eye; let’s just hope that none of it got in his mouth, and if so, that he didn’t swallow. Ben then volunteered for the next beat down of the APOCALYPSE. . .against the mighty crimson tide. . .Albrecht “The Tyrant” Wesker! No, we did not, or are not. . .playing off of Resident Evil at all! Get that idea out of your head! Besides, there is no steroid buffed the fuck out Chris Redfield, or Claire. . .or Jill. . .or Rebecca Chambers. . .HEY LADIES!

We now resume your regularly scheduled program, Keeping Up with the Finches. Will Abraham’s son, Jake, finally get with Lucy Abernathy? Will Blake Abernathy avenge his daughter, Mary? Find out on an all new episode at 10 PM EST (9 PM CST).


“Seriously, do you ever stay focused on one thing?” The Bear God grunted as he reached to his feet, the debris falling off.

He gave a mighty shake of his body, bristling his fur, concrete dust and dirt took to the air.

“Who is your friend talking to?” Albrecht inquired.

“Just. . .someone who likes to annoy us with random intermissions of nonsense.” Rubricon replied.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Ben chanted, clacking his claws and closing the gap between him and his foe.

Albrecht smacked his lips. “Ah, I see you are quite feisty. . .that’s good. It gets the blood pumping, saturates your muscles. . .so when I do kill you. Mmm. You taste delicious.”

Ben charged full force now. “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, when I am devouring your heart. . .and your soul,” he yelled.

The immovable crimson object met with the brown leathery unstoppable force. . .a blinding white light overwhelmed the “lobby.”

As the light faded back to normal, Rubricon and the Bear God looked around for the two fighters. They were nowhere to be found. At least, not on this level. Apparently, they had collided with one another, and then busted through the ceiling. Punches could be heard, being thrown mostly at the lord crustacean of them all.

Ben was being overwhelmed, but he was taking the hits in stride, and with spirit.

“You hit like a Radroach,” he yelled at Wesker.

“I guess I shouldn’t hold back anymore. . .” Wesker grinned. “After all, I do know of your weak spot. . .just like all of your Mirelurks share.”

Ben was surprised. . .not only by the words, but also the massive attack that came crashing against his face. He tumbled across the rooftop like a tumbleweed, and then laid motionless after the assault.

“Well. . .that was rather short lived, I must say.” Wesker clasped his hands together, slightly disappointed.

“Ben,” the Bear God yelled, as he rushed to his fallen comrade’s side. “Are you alright?”

“Face. Hurts. Ouch.” Ben cringed with unbearable pain.

“You’ll be alright. Why don’t you let me take over now?” The Bear God asked.

“His soul. . .is mine.” Ben stated.

His eyes flickered a reddish haze.

Use your rage, Ben.

The mighty Mirelurk rose to his feet and clacked his claws furiously. “BEN SMASH!”

“Oh. . .we’re not finished yet. I am quite impressed, hatchling. I suppose I should maybe give it a little more effort. My stomach is starting to rumble.” Wesker looked up in the sky. “It is also nearing lunch. . .and I am famished.”

“I am going to kill you, apple bottom fuck face!” Ben roared.

“Wow. I’ve never seen this part of Ben before.” The Bear God said to Rubricon.

“Yeah, I’ve just met the kid, and I’ve got to say. . .he’s pretty pissed.” Rubricon added.

“I’m going to totally floss with your soul, after I am done tearing it out!” Ben yelled as he charged.

“Ah ah ah. . .” Wesker wagged his left index finger, “remember you still have that weakness!”

Wesker then wound up another series of fist attacks against Ben’s face and torso. However, Ben had succumbed to his rage, and it only fueled the fire that raged within. His feet had emanated red, to match with his anger. He darted around Wesker, unleashing his own attacks against the big red hulk.

Dust began to billow underneath the crustacean’s feet. As he circled the brute faster and faster, he eventually became a fierce tornado of pain and destruction. Dark gray clouds formed overhead, blotting out the sun, while thunder and lightning crashed, and sounded across the Wasteland. The Herald of Destruction danced to his own beat now, and it was to the symphony of doom.

To the Beach!

The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God Logo

“It’s not easy being The Mighty Bear God. In fact, it is usually quite taxing. You get Raiders, Deathclaws, Radscorpions, Mirelurks, rabid dogs, Ghouls, fan girls, fan boys, and those annoying Atom folks. . . I swear those are probably the worst of them. This sit there and throw shit at you, yell “PRAISE ATOM!” and then they shoot their green shit all over your face! It smells like five-day old splooge.”

[The Mighty Bear God then thinks about it] “It probably is splooge.”

The Mighty Bear God on vacations, Mighty Bear Weekly pg. 32

Day 44.

After having been. . .blessed. . .by The Maker, and having a chat about things. I was gifted with something I haven’t had a lot of. Well, I should correct myself, as I have had plenty of it. Time. At least, time off from things. I’m not chasing down something, or someone, or getting my asshole plugged by ghoulish fingers, or a Radscorpion trying to give me a colonoscopy. I thought to myself, a small vacation could be ideal. Take a break, get away from it all. Even though that wasn’t entirely true, since The Wasteland was still here, and there was filth, pollution, and radiation everywhere.

Alas, I had decided, and once I decide, I decide! So I decided I would take my flock, and we would all venture to the beach. Play in the water, soak up some sun. Get each other wet. . .yeah. . .you know.

Ooh, my loins are aching in the anticipation of it all!

 


 

We arrived on the shore, near the old Lighthouse we purged some days ago. It seems some folks had taken a liking to it and tried to say so otherwise to me. Well, let’s just say. . .I persuaded them.

[Scribes note: The Almighty Bear God fornicated, and plugged all their holes, and spared no one. Not even the goat. At least, I think it was a goat. No one’s really sure. It was still a fun day in the sun though!]

After making the new settlers. . .sing praise. . .to me, and making them shower. We all went to the beach and began our fun time.

So, as I ready my spread, and the flock prepares our picnic, I feel I shall enjoy this time and halt my writing, for now.

 


[An audio holotape is enclosed, along with a video holotape.]

[Begin audio playback.]

“Scribe Tartar reporting. What was supposed to be a fun day has now turned into a day of bloodshed. We—we were attacked, unawares, and without a moment to prepare a counterattack. However, The Mighty Bear God, He protected us with His righteous nuts of fury! A few of the new settlers were slain, but He suggests that they died for the greater good. The greater good.”

[Video playback begins.]

A monstrous Mirelurk Queen snapped her pincers, attempting to communicate to The Mighty Bear God. [click-click-clickitty-click-clack]

“Yeah, I have no fucking idea what in the hell that is supposed to mean.” The Mighty Bear God shook his head.

Around the Mirelurk Queen and The Mighty Bear God, Mirelurks ran amok on the beach, chasing down the settlers, and members of his flock. The Mighty Bear God surveyed the area, and noted the precise area in which the Mirelurks had emerged from.

“OK, lemme see if I am right here. That area over there is your nesting ground, right?” He pointed to a shallow area on the shoreline, which had a rather conspicuous area, that was littered with what appeared to be eggshells.

The Mirelurk Queen clattered her claws [click-click-clack-clack-clickitty-clack-clack]

The Mighty Bear God rolled his eyes, “I am going to assume that was a yes.”

[Click-click-clack]

The Mighty Bear God sighed. “Yeah, OK, look. Call your. . .children. . .off my people, and we’ll disperse with no problems. You kill one of my people, I kill one of your children. You piss me off enough, I kill all of you. Deal?”

The Mirelurk Queen seemed to nod in agreement. . .or something. . . [CLACK CLACK] Most of the Mirelurks seemed to have stopped. Most.

However, as the terms were finally negotiated, the uneventful happened. A Mirelurk Hunter had gotten hold of one of the new settlers and was forcing themselves upon them.

“Queenie. . .I thought we had a deal.” The Mighty Bear God motioned his head towards the rogue Hunter.

[CLACK CLACK! CLICK CLACK CLACK! CLICKITTY—CLACK—CLICK!] The Queen furiously snapped her pincers, but the rogue Mirelurk was too far gone.

It slaughtered the settler and began to eat its insides. First pulling out the intestines, then snapped through the rib cage and went for the lungs, and heart. The other Mirelurks snapped and clacked their claws in approval.

Meanwhile, the flock, and settlers had disgust on their faces. Elsewhere, his canine companion ran rampant going for limbs, or throats of the Mirelurks.

“Well, you know the rules.” The Might Bear God sighed.

In a great display of newly created finesse, vigor, and prowess, the sexy beast that was The Mighty Bear God, dashed through the Mirelurks for the Hunter that broke the pact.

“You done gone and fucked up!” He yelled as he closed the gap between himself and his target.

[CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!] The Mirelurks seemed to chant in unison, while their queen was. . .probably[?]. . .showing signs of distress.

The Mighty Bear God raised his holy paw. It raged in a white light that blinded its foe. As he landed the fatal blow that caused the Mirelurk Hunter to explode in a massive burst of water, sludge, and who knows what. . . The other Mirelurks seemed agitated enough to go into a frenzy.

[CLACK! CLACK! CLICKITTY CLACK! CLICKITTY CLACK! CLACK!] the queen furiously clattered. . .probably trying to calm the others. . .or incite them.

“Well, my children. . .I guess we’re having crab for dinner!” The Mighty Bear God readied himself for combat.

He let loose a mighty roar that staggered the army that amassed itself around him. He lived for this. This was what he lived for.

“ULTIMATE CRAB BATTLE!” He shouted as he tore through the hardened carapaces of his foes.

One by one, two by two, over and over, until there was but one—the queen, did they all fall.

The Mirelurk Queen stayed—distraught, and now saddened by the slaughter of her children. [C. . .click. . .click. . .clack. . .clack.]

“I told you, Queenie. Them’s the rules of the land.” The Mighty Bear God motioned for his followers. “Gather them up. Tonight, we feast!”

The flock and settlers cheered, while the queen motioned to leave.

“Look, Queenie, you can stay. I doubt you’d join us, but as long as we don’t have no more trouble, we’ll be fine.”

The queen tilted her head at the Mighty Bear God. Then she motioned him to follow her.

As she led them back to the nest, there sat but one pristine Mirelurk egg. She pointed her claw at it, then at the Mighty Bear God.

“You. . .want me to take it?”

She nodded and clacked her claws a few times.

“OK then. I’ll take good care of it.” He reached for the egg and picked it up.

He could have sword he then actually heard the queen say something, “kill me,” as clear as day.

“Wait, what,” he asked. “You want me to kill you?”

She nodded and put her pincers down.

“Well. . .I don’t usually do requests, but if you insist. . .and to honor the deal.” The Mighty Bear God sighed, and readied a heavy paw. “I’ll be merciful, and grant you a swift death, Queenie. Don’t worry. I’ll raise them right, and they’ll grow up big and strong.”

In one swoop of his paw, the Mirelurk Queen fell to the ground dead, atop the eggshells that littered the beach.


Never before had he met such a personable creature. . .at least in The Wasteland. As he wandered back to the camp, where crab was a plenty, he looked at the egg he held in his paws.

“I know just what to name you when you hatch,” he smiled.

He tucked the egg under his arm and ventured to a platter full of steamed crab.

“LET’S FEAST!”

[End holotape]

Crash! Wham! Alakazam!

The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God Logo


“Some say—that from the ashes will rise an ally, and that ally will be a kind of key. . .a key to the gatekeeper. Where there are no ghouls, only Dana Fembots. Pray, friends, for if they are released upon the world. . .Feminism will have our world by the jollies.” —Bhal Aundy, Children of the Lost Marriage 1:03

[The scribe was kind enough to enclose an audio holotape for your eargasm pleasure.]


Day 42.

Since my last battle with Rubricon, the crater hasn’t been disturbed. From up to the north, where we’ve traveled to, we can still see it smoldering; billowing gray puffs to the skies above.

As I promised my flock, I took them to the Lakeshore Creamery for some Ice Cream. I ordered each to get their own and to have as many scoops as they wanted. They seemed quite content. Tara, Shana, Tama, and Tata all seemed to get very. . .aroused. . .by licking their delicious treats. For one minute, they’re sucking, biting, and licking their frosty treats, and then the next, they’re stripping and repeating some said actions to one another, with their treats. Some even started defecating [the rest of this passage is indecipherable].


After they finished their act, showered, and I killed the creamery staff for slipping a concoction of Buffout, Psycho, Mentats, Jet, Deathclaw blood, Mirelurk eggs, RadAway, and Mutifruit; which resulted in some sort of ecstasy. Some associate had called it a “Pudding Pop,” or something like that—whatever the case, it was unacceptable—NONE MAY TAINT THE BITCHES OF THE MIGHTY BEAR GOD, LET ALONE MY FLOCK!

I will have my minions ransack the place, and we shall stay for the night. The ‘shrooms, or whatever they had in my sundae have given me an unpleasant stomach ache. Maker above, I will probably be squirting this shit out for hours. Ugh. At least there is toilet paper around this time. Albeit, I do think my flock enjoyed cleansing their Mighty Bear God—probably too much. I will have to reaffirm this. Later perhaps.


Day 43.

I sent a few of my flock to check on the crater where Rubricon fell. They have yet to return. It’s been awhile, and I do hope that that son of a bitch stayed down. Maybe I should have hit him harder—or played a different song. Whatever the case, if they don’t turn up soon, I will be forced to leave them behind. Waiting makes my loins quiver in uneasiness.

***

Ricky, Dicky, and Flub came back. Finally! They report that the crater is vacant and that there is no sign of Rubricon. I suppose it was to be expected. He is a fucking rabbit. . .and when rabbits fuck, they’re just as bad as cockroaches. They just get everywhere!

Wait. What’s that? There’s an orange. . .fiery ball. Ah, shit.


[Scribe Tetanus recording here. It seems that a massive fireball has fallen on top of The Mighty Bear God. It seems to be a round metallic capsule of some kind. There’s a window, though it’s not view-able—too dark to see what’s inside if anything.

Wait it appears to be moving. Yes! Yes, it is! It’s moving! The Mighty Bear God—He has risen!]

[chanting ensues over the recording]

“What. . .the. . .hell?” The Mighty Bear God remarks, having lifted the space capsule off his person, and rolled it away. “No, seriously, what the hell is this shit?”

[The capsule hisses with the release of an airlock, smoke, and ozone escape it.]

A pair of oversized dummy black eyes peered out into the sunny Wasteland. A gray smooth-skinned alien poked its head out, slightly alarmed by its surroundings.

“Greetings, Earthlings. I am Captain Ack—” a raspy voice escaped from the alien’s fish-like lips.

“NOPE! NOPE! NOPE!” With tremendous might, the Mighty Bear God booted the alien into the capsule, picked it up, and then hurled it back towards whence it came.

The alien yelled over a loudspeaker, “it was a traaaaaaaap—” which could be heard for several moments until it dissipated over the horizon or back to space. Wherever. Anywhere but here.

The flock looked to their Almighty Bear God, who spat at the dirt beneath him. “I am not doing that. Aliens exist. I get it. There is no way in hell that I am going to include them! Not now! Not ever! YOU HEAR ME?! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

[Beyond the world, above and far beyond, eyes peered in. The Maker sighed and rolled his eyes. He continued to construct, deconstruct, create, destroy, and pretty much do whatever the hell he damned well pleased. He typed out a note and folded it into a paper airplane. With a gentle breath, he sent the message to his recipient.

Out of the sky, there flew a brilliant piece of paper. One that defied all logic and reasoning. It was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. It landed in the Mighty Bear God’s paws. He unfolded it and read it to himself.]

“If I want aliens, I will fucking put aliens in. If I want you dead, I’ll make you dead. Remember. . .

You’re my bitch, bitch. Go fuck yourself.

With Love,

The Maker

The Mighty Bear God’s lips curled, and then a scowl came over his face. “What a cunt.”

[Soon after, another white piece of paper came floating down and then, with a great surge of speed, plowed into The Mighty Bear God, practically destroying the area.

On the unharmed, the pristine paper had the words scrawled: F-Bomb. I win. 🙂 ]

THE DIARY OF THE WASTELAND BEAR GOD IS AN ONGOING A.B.NORMAL PUBLISHING EXCLUSIVE STORY BY ROBERT J. S. T. MCCARTNEY. CHECK HERE FOR MORE

A Legendary of Dialogue Proportions. . .and Several Episodes!

The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God Logo

[Tape 1]

[The scribe was grateful enough to include a holographic tape showing the bout between The Mighty Bear God, and to what they believe, is the alleged. . .Anti-Bear God.]

[It’s not, though.]

“Well, well, well, what do we have here? An ancient relic from the past! And it’s you of all things.” the dark silhouette spoke surprisingly calm to the Mighty Bear God. “You should not be here. In fact, you should be dead like the rest of your pathetic lot.” The shade’s lips curled to a Cheshire smile.

“If it isn’t the double-sided rabbit dildo, Rubricon. I see you’re doing well. I see your batteries haven’t run out—shame. I had hoped that the rumors were just that—rumors.” The Mighty Bear God rose to his feet, grunting after having been shot out of the sky.

Rubricon snickered. “Alas, here I am. . .Sin,” he bowed.

“Ah, there’s a name I haven’t been called in a long, long time.” ‘Sin’ grinned at his nemesis. “So, tell me, Rubricon. Are we going to do this, or are we going to spend several episodes with us having long-winded speeches, a ‘who’s dick is bigger than an ants,’ and a pissing contest? Or are we going to get right to it?”

“Haha, eager as ever I see. You must be wishing for a swift death—it shall be denied, and I shall make you suffer.” Rubricon grinned, then went to a serious face.  “YOU SHALL SUFFER AS I HAVE. FOR HACKING THOSE MAGICS THAT CURSED ME—CURSED ME TO BEING STUCK IN THIS WRETCHED FORM!” He bellowed.

The Mighty Bear God yawned heavily. “Look, I get that your ass is sore over. . .whatever. . .that happened way back when. . .but are you really certain that you can dance with me?”

“Ho, ho, confident are you? I seem to remember having you on the ropes pretty much 24/7.” Rubricon laughed, genuinely amused.

“Yep,” replied the Mighty Bear God.

With swiftness and ferocity, the Mighty Bear God known as Sin, charged his foe head on. Caught unawares, despite his rabbit-like appearance, Rubricon was sent rolling across the desolate and burning Wasteland like a rag doll. He laid there motionless, leaving the Mighty Bear God disappointed.

“Well. . .had I known you’d be that easy, I would’ve just farted in your general direction. I wonder. . .if you’re that easy, just how easy your mom, and your other sister must be.” The Mighty Bear God sat down, waiting to see if his foe’s anger would rise.

Rubricon laid there motionless still.

“OK, look, I get that you’re probably, sort of. . .going for a dramatic thing, but come on. I’ve got shit to do. Get your ass up, ya faker.”

. . .

“Yeah, OK, I’m done with this.”

And with that note, the Mighty Bear God turned around and motioned to his flock to come to him.

“I just wanted to make you bring them here. . .so I can see their faces when I kill you.” Rubricon replied, finally reaching to his feet. His rabbit-like face was pristine, and his fur undisturbed.

The Mighty Bear God sighed in relief. “Thank you! I was hoping you weren’t going to be some pussy pushover.” He let a grin escape, “Let’s dance, Rubi!”


 

Will The Mighty Bear God survive? Will there be a fight of super sand lergen proportions? WILL THEY SPOON ON THE COUCH?!

Find out more. . .NEXT TIME! ON DRAGONB—THE DIARY OF THE WASTELAND BEAR GOD!

THE DIARY OF THE WASTELAND BEAR GOD IS AN ONGOING A.B.NORMAL PUBLISHING EXCLUSIVE STORY BY ROBERT J. S. T. MCCARTNEY. CHECK HERE FOR MORE POSTS!