Copyright © by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.
Featured Image: “Sea Witch”, by Axel Sauerwald
“INVALID AUDIO INPUT. ACCESS DENIED.” Her fist falls weary on the door. “Its voice recognition must be fried.” “Maybe,” her sister says. “I’ve sung the damn song six times. Once in Tolkien Elvish!” “But perhaps you need to sing it, in a different key?” The bard patted his guitar. “This is my weapon. Music.” “Oh,” Oi-livia said. She drew and held aloft the Keytar Sword of Casion. “And this is mine!” The punk-aladin sliced his guitar in two with it. “Oi, Mate,” she said, perplexed. “That ain’t a good weapon.” “No old hippy is stopping this clearcut!” She levels a log at the lumberjacks like a minigun. “I will protect this sacred forest.” “Like the Lorax?” the foreman sneers. A torrent of mud from her enchanted stump blasts him backwards. “I do speak for the trees!” The girls share a blanket, shaken and wet. “Poor old Barbara-Ann,” one child sniffs. Her fraternal twin nods. “Alchemy didn’t make her a kid again.” “It made her, us.” “Two, from one. Mitosis of body and mind.” “I’ll take the name Barbara. Will yours be Ann?” “It’s awful,” the critic says. “Just a gorilla suit with an old TV set for a head!” Its screen flashes. “KILL!” “Wow. Puerile sci-fi kitsch! Unadulterated bathos— Ack!” The TV-Ape is strangling him. “What is this?!” he chokes. “PERFORMANCE ART!!!” it flashes. “Where are the rest?” The soldier’s eyes are vacant. “She said every other woman here is a witch. That if we die, flowers will grow…” His platoon shambles bloody from the woods. Fresh corpses sprouting sunflowers level guns at their praporshchik as he screams. “My offensive and defensive capacity is significantly decreased in this replacement chassis.” “A Robo-Pug was all I could scrounge, Warbot. But look, I attached a gun-pod!” “I may experience a one-meter recoil firing that.” “Then make each shot count!”