“You don't have to go home but you can't stay here.”
The last remaining patron threw the bartender a dirty look. He made his way to the exit and pressed the big red button. The blast doors opened, he jumped into the vacuum of space.
— Bastian Espada
Bastian Espada
“You don't have to go home but you can't stay here.”
The last remaining patron threw the bartender a dirty look. He made his way to the exit and pressed the big red button. The blast doors opened, he jumped into the vacuum of space.
— Bastian Espada
“Welcome to Earth's favorite talk show! I'm your host Orion Vega, and tonight we have two amazing guests coming straight from the depths of time. Please put your hands together forrr... Lucy the Australopithecus and Genghis Khan!”
The audience cheered.
Portals opened by the couch, next to the host's desk.
The two guests emerged.
“Welcome! It's great having you here.” Orion motioned for them to take a seat. “Please.”
The guests ignored him—choosing to maintain direct eye contact.
They began circling each other.
Lucy threw a punch.
Genghis Khan caught it. “I see your Kung Fu is as weak as ever,” he said.
Lucy grunted.
The Khan smirked.
Orion hid behind his desk.
— Bastian Espada
“Your honor, members of the jury, please consider the following.” The lawyer took to the floor. “We got 'evidence' and 'witnesses' and 'oaths' and all this fanfare. But allow me to ask you, is this really the best way to get to the bottom of this? Aren't we just guessing at the end of the day? Might there be a better way of resolving case like this? I would argue, there is. And if it pleases you all, I would very much like to demonstrate.”
The judge took measure of the lawyer, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, fine. I'll allow it. Go ahead, do your thing.”
The lawyer nodded in gratitude. From his suitcase he produced a vial of sheep's blood and a box filled with ashes of unknown provenance—both of which he proceeded to dump on the wooden floor. With this mixture he drew a large circle, and a number of arcane symbols within it.
He began chanting. The windows blew open, the lights flickered. The ethereal figure of a man emerged from the circle.
“Tell us! Who killed yo—”
No one saw the people present at the courthouse ever again.
— Bastian Espada
“Why do birds suddenly appear every time you're near? Why do stars fall down from the sky every time you walk by? Martin, please.” She reached out and held his hand in hers. “I need to understand.”
The man pursed his lips, then jerked his arm — releasing himself from the woman's gentle grasp. “Fine! You want the truth? Here's the truth.” He took a deep breath. “Ten years ago, I mistook a radioactive sunflower seed for a suppository. It… it changed me.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Darling, I'm Atomic Seed-Man.”
She gasped. “You mean THE Atomic Seed-Man?” She took a step back. “All this time, I've been watching the news, reading the paper. To think it was you all along, I had no ide—”
A star fell on the woman's head and knocked her out cold.
— Bastian Espada
“We made a vow goddammit! We would be together until death did us apart.”
“Well then. There's only one thing to do, isn't there?” the sobbing woman said.
The man nodded in solemn agreement.
Three hours later, Death exited the man's room. Tired and dehydrated, Death reclined against the wall, drank a bit of water, fixed its cloak, then proceeded to the woman's chamber.
— Bastian Espada
“I'm going to be a real boy!” Pinocchio said.
Bloody Wiz, the leader of The Real Boys, scratched his chin. “I'll be the judge of that.” He nodded to one of his bodyguards, who produced a .44 Magnum.
It was handed to Pinocchio, grip-first.
The puppet turned around and took aim.
“You don't have to do this. Please...” Geppetto said. “You're already a real boy inside!”
Pinocchio closed his eyes. A shot rang through the abandoned warehouse.
— Bastian Espada
In the beginning, there was nothing. The great father-horse defecated and from his manure the land came to be.
He spat onto the ground and created the seas.
He urinated on the grasslands and the trees arose.
Lastly, he vomited corn onto the world, and the first people were born.
The descendants of those first vomit-people still exist today. They clap at the end of movies, finance political campaigns and pass others on the right.
— Bastian Espada
“I'm a troubadour! I sing and dance wherever I go! Whatever your style, I'll make you smile. Do not fear—I'll bring you cheer. I promise my song will warm your heart. Tales of old and tales of time. Perk your ears and lift your veils! I'm a troubadour—yessir I am!”
“Sir, this is a Tibetan monastery. Now I don't know why you're here, why you felt the need to make this trek, or why you think it's a good idea to stand there singing this fucking song—but either you shut up or I'll personally help the monks throw you off a cliff.”
— Bastian Espada
“Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.” The girl pointed her finger at her grandmother.
Dad sighed. “Well, I suppose that's the way it is.”
“Indeed, it is.” Mom walked towards the elderly woman, grabbed her by the arm, and chucked her into the magma below.
— Bastian Espada
“I'm a logologologist. I study the study of study.” The man pushed his glasses up. “Decades of engaging in this practice have enabled me to acquire a level of comprehension of reality far beyond that of an ordinary human being.”
“Is that why you're in prison though?” the young man asked.
“Oh no, not at all. I tried kidnapping a drug-sniffing dog, didn't go as planned, ended up using the last bit of heroin I had left to calm it down. It worked but the dog died.”
— Bastian Espada