The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal Ebook Cover

The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidalist’s 2018 Fourth of July Special

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Happy Independence Day, folks. Or rather, ‘Happy-Wear-Your-USA-Flag-Bikini Day and Shoot Shit Off All Fucking Day.’ Yay!

Heaven forbid if you decide to have to, you know go to sleep early because you have a job; one that requires you to be up early as that son of a bitch rooster crowing, or if you not wearing an some Old Navy USA Flag shirt, or dislike the sounds of fireworks going off until one in the goddam morning, and your dog is howling. Then morning comes around, and you’re left with your eyes sagging lower than your nuts on your left leg because your kids couldn’t sleep. But you know, you’re the inconsiderate and un-American one if you disagree.

Hardly anyone remembers what this day means or what it represents. But since it’s a day off from the weekly work grind, folks sure do remember it then. A bunch of mindless drones.

I suppose it’s not their fault, entirely. We’ve been continually getting more dumb with each generation, that is, the mass population. You get a few bright bulbs here and there, but it’s a small number compared to the majority.

I bet you’re wondering “Bob, what are you doing with your 4th of July?” Well, bucko, lemme tell you all about it. I’m planning on shooting a bunch of shit off until who knows when. I’ve got it all planned out. Y’know, being that asshole of a neighbor. That’s the goal this year anyway.

The day started off simple enough. No itches but a ton of anxiety. We were to have folks over and make it a big shindig. Honestly, I just wanted to be left alone or go out somewhere by myself. It is what it is, though.

So we had everyone over and gathered everyone up for a show off of who’s firework ego was greater. Then I remembered, I hate the Fourth of July. After getting tired of who could fire off the bigger grade of booms, I thought it was time for my show.

I stood up and wandered over to the launcher and readied everything up. I was going to give everyone the show of a lifetime and I didn’t care. Everyone was there, all eyes on dear old Bob. At least the kids were inside playing video games.

Well, I decided to take a few M-80s and string them together (for maximum boom and to take someone’s head off. Namely mine.). I lit them and dropped them in the makeshift mortar launcher that Ted had made. Then I waited for the boom. Let me tell you, it was a hell of a rush. Y’know when you watch Mission Impossible and watching that fuse go? Hearing it sizzle, waiting for the boom. Well, I made some ‘modifications’ to the fuses, because I knew damn well that someone would try to be the hero. Sure as shit, someone tried, but I got the final discharge off. As bad as that sounds, it’s not as bad as the next bit. When I say I got the final discharge, I had my mouth open. So, you can imagine as soon as those suckers shot up, caught them in the mouth and POP goes I went.

When the day reset, the itch had begun, and I figured I’d start with the fireworks show and see what other fun ways I could off myself.

So I went with a fistful of M-80s—that was plenty painful. At least no one tried to be a hero that go around. Next up was a bunch of firecrackers—swallowed them whole. That was a spicy meatball; I’ll tell you. I know, you’re probably thinking, “Bob, that’s impossible.” No, no it’s not. It’s possible, and I do not recommend trying it. I ended up losing my hand on top of getting my insides tore the fuck up.

Those were the fun ones for that part of the day. The others were more like the grilling aspect.

* * *

So, I had my fun going out with a bang. I mentioned last time about grilling and well — let me just bring you up to speed.

The few guys I was having over wanted to have a grill out. I figured, bah, why not. Wouldn’t be too bad. Then everyone was launching their shit. Dogs were barking; cats were going crazy, kids were screaming, it was just a clusterfuck.

Well, I had about enough of it. Sure, people were having a blast and a grand old time, but old Bob? Nah, he wanted no more of it. I had just put the burgers on the grill when it happened. It was automatic I’d say, but then again, it wasn’t the first time where I went “fuck it” and just did what I wanted to do.

So, Bob’s burgers are on the grill, wandered on over to the gas can in the garage. Walked out to the middle of the street and poured it all over me. Then I flicked my lighter and toasted myself to a Happy 4th of July. A lot of people just stood there in shock that they just saw their quiet neighbor torch himself in front of everyone. Some attempted to be quick on their feet, but dear old Bob had a backup plan for that. You see I placed a few firecrackers in my pockets. You know, for that added pizzazz and flair. I must say, though, it wasn’t a great way to go. Self-barbecue. It’s not what it’s cracked up to be, and it hurts like hell. Eventually, though, your brain shuts you down, and well, your body gets well done. In my case, though, I was more medium-well.

I did a few different takes on the day. Each reset I was at a different friend’s place. Each time was a different way to go. M-80 in the gas tank of the car driving into the creek, playing Foghat’s Slow Ride. I made a custom M-80 vest and wandered out back of my pal Sid’s place and lit up, like, well the Fourth of July. At Jerry’s, I fashioned a few makeshift cherry bombs and made it look like I was taking a sip of beer, only to have my face and hand blown off. Then there was Terry’s place. We went into the woods, and I had decided that I would be a Wicker Man. So, I outfitted myself with I don’t remember how many and kinds of fireworks but when we got to the spot and unloaded. I told the guys I had a show for them. They all laughed and said “Alright, Bob. Can’t wait.” That night I lit myself up and gave them a presentation to remember.

The last time was where I had no itch and where I wasn’t really in a mood for offing myself. Crazy I know. I decided to spend it with my family and enjoy the time. That night, my wife and I got to coupling. In the end, it was a good day. Hardly anyone shot their shit off. It was pretty nice. Later on, though, as it rolled into the 5th, I ended up dying in my sleep.

I know, I know, you’re thinking “Bob, you didn’t kill yourself?” You’re right. I was amazed as well. Still, at least I shot my rocket off, and well, it ended up being a happy ending.

Well, until the other stuff happened to me but that’s something you can find out for yourself.

 

 

 

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The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal was a writing project by Robert J. S. T. McCartney, here at A.B.Normal Publishing. You can purchase the dark comedy novella, The Chronicles of Bob: the Chronic Suicidal on Amazon in various formats [Free on Kindle Unlimited].
THIS  STORY IS A WORK OF FICTION. DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.
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Free Kindle Book Until April 19, 2018

Hey, folks.

I wanted to tell you about a free Kindle book deal that you can get just by clicking this link.

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What’s the book? It’s the dark comedy, The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal. My social and therapeutic experiment I did a wee while back. It’s the novella about Bob and his suicidal tendencies, and the results of each death that plaguing a much bigger picture. The ups and downs is struggling with depression (so bad that it can cripple a person) and also the portrayal of “social suicide,” where you kill knowingly kill your social life because you’re so fed up with your fellow human beings.

There’s murder, there’s wit, and probably some parts that will make your sides (or pants) split. Be amazed. Be disappointed? Be ENTERTAINED! With Bob and all his thoughts.

So sit back, relax, and enjoy a bit of downtime with Bob.

Until next time,

RJM

 

P.S. I’m working on a new short story… possible novella involving the undead (yay!) and am fabricating the new season of The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God. I’m excited to share them all with you. /BearSlap to the face. I’m out!

In Other News…

Hey, folks.

I am still adding stuff and being Frankenstein here with the site. Some things might be broken, some might not be. Headaches and alcohol would typically be present, but since I gave up on mass-induced alcoholism, it’s just headaches. Hoo.

The store still has some work to do, and the transfer is being quite difficult…but that’s alright. Thinks will get worked out and it’ll be behind me.

There’s Alpha testing for (WoW) World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth to be done, and a mythic plus (M+) dungeon that needs to be done tonight. I also am compiling some other things to get up on the site and store.

Another excerpt of Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle will also be making a stop, just to annoy you all and maybe increase its preorder count by one. 😉 That will be posted Soon™.

Lastly, tomorrow I am getting mini-pies and they’ll be delicious. Mmm.

Until next time,

RJM

Ten Years: A Poem

Ten Years [For Zelda]

By Robert J. S. T. McCartney


One

I thought my life was done; when you and your mom almost died.

Two

Darkness took over and nearly ruined my life. I was very blue.

Three

I realized that nothing was going to change by sitting on my hands. I made a change and started to get better. You grew up so much since the last year; I knew the kind of kid you’d grow to be.

Four

I watched you grow and saw how you made people smile. Your laughs were contagious, and soon you’d start school. I still struggled with myself and fought with my mind. The guilt I harbored was massive and cut me to the core.

Five

Your sassiness was profound. You were the perfect blend of your mother and I. Without a doubt, you and your mother brought me joy. I was still wading through the darkness. I’d grit my teeth and fight the pain to stay alive.

Six

Enduring the rollercoaster ride as I stumbled along to keep control. I’d lose my way here and there; fighting myself and getting lost in my abysmal dismal thoughts. Your mom and I struggled to get you the equipment you needed and stood against those who would deny you. It was a taste of something we knew a life this way we would endure, but we knew that together, we could do it. I strayed and started to get lost in alcohol to try to help numb the pain. I had built up a wall with flesh, bone, and despair bricks.

Seven

This was the year when you found out you were going to be a big sister. It would be a new adventure. I wanted to be ready. As hard as I tried, I  know I could have done better. Even as I got help and started to show improvement, I’d take two steps forward and fall two more. I struggled to see the joy of having a perfect family. I often found myself outside looking to heaven.

Eight

Ah, your sassiness was so contagious that your baby sister caught on quick. You slowly opened up to having a sister. I was starting to find my way out of the darkness. My alcoholism would soon be kicked to the curb. I took up arms to further better myself: eating, working out, making an effort to be there for you and your sister. You were growing up too fast for your mom and me. The tears I once shed for the memory of a tragedy, were now tears of joy of having you still. I was beginning to let go all the feelings I had harbored, especially, hate.

Nine

Soon, we would leave our old home and move. It was a new start for us all. I relapsed and retreated into the darkness. I had found some comfort, but the feelings gnawed at me. The realizations and truths uncovered left me scared for us. It would be some time, but I would finally emerge victoriously. I improved my body and mind and would find a balance. I took up the craft that I believed I was destined for. I’ve watched you grow up this far and wonder where has it all gone—time?

Ten

The darkness has subsided and I am myself. I still can’t believe that it’s been ten years. You’ve become such a beautiful girl with a contagious laugh and smile. You’re our world and more, and even though you can be a crabby crab, we love you very much. It’s taken me this long to finally find the strength to cast off my shackles of guilt and blame. I can smile and laugh and be myself. I’ve come to manage my PTSD, depression, and anxiety. I’ll keep fighting and being here for you, mom, and your sister. I know it’s just another year to some, but you’ll always be our little bugaboo and pumpkin. Happy birthday to our Princess Zelda on your tenth.


 

For Zelda

Love Dad

Madness’ Sole Soul: A Short Story

Madness’ Sole Soul

A Short Story by Robert J. S. T. McCartney

 

“I’m sorry, it has to be this way,” he remembered his mother saying. She left him—left them all. Now, they were all being hunted down by an unknown person (or maybe organization?). Rumor was that his mother was collecting other family members to help her purge those that were left and would get in her way of officially taking over the family since his father’s untimely demise. The lands, she believed were hers; as was the town. It was her birthright. That even though the past had tarnished what should have been regulated to her—she was persistent on correcting. Everything would return to her: the land, the town, the family name—everything. It would only be a matter of time until he would perish. So, he supposed on the issue.

It was true, she had left his step-father for an old fling from the “glory days” or what have you. Perhaps to gain leverage in use against her remaining members of the Hessen household. Though he never saw eye to eye with the man he came to acknowledge as a father figure in his life, he felt sorry for him. Vengeance, karma, these things have a way of working out. Order must be maintained in the universe. Time will work its hands the way it sees fit.

The day had come—one he had anticipated. The hitmen (or so he alleged) had come for the step-father, for him, for the rest of them.

“You need to get out of here, John. I can deal with them.” The young man steeled himself with a knife in hand. “Run, run as fast as you can. Don’t look back.”

“What you’re talking about is madness, Eric. Your mother could never do such a thing! Not to us, especially, to you.” John was flabbergasted at the information that had been collected and evidence that suggested his wife had, indeed, put a price on his head and the rest of the family.

“Go before it’s too late! There’s no time to argue. I know you’re not my real father, but I do look up to you like one.” Eric gripped the knife tighter as he clenched his jaw. John nodded and gathered a few things, before hurrying straight out the back door.

Out front, Eric heard an engine approaching. He opened the massive oak door to see a black SUV coming up the drive to the estate. “Typical fashion,” Eric mumbled aloud before closing the door.

He peeked out the window to see the occupants disperse from the vehicle. He knew them all. “My Uncles? Aunts?” He noted two more vehicles coming to the estate. “This…cannot be good,” he said.

A voice came from behind him. “Hello, dear brother.”

Sister.

“Hello, dear sister,” Eric replied, still peeking out the window. “Quite the family reunion we have today; unannounced in fact. Any reason as to why?”

His sister grimaced. “Did you not hear? There’s a high price for you and ‘dad.’ We are all here to collect—it’s nothing personal. I could use the money to take care of a lot of things.”

Eric sighed. “You were always greedy. We have vast wealth as it is and yet, you squander it.” His words struck a nerve. “You do know mother will only kill you after you kill John and I, don’t you?”

“I am aware of that. I have taken precautions. I’m afraid John is already. . .disposed. He didn’t get very far,” she smiled.

Eric grit his teeth. “The man was hardly any threat, let alone needed to be involved. You could have spared him, you cold-hearted bitch.”

“Please, I have been called worse,” his sister laughed.

“And soon you will be dead, all of you. I will make sure of it—mom included. I won’t let any of you live anymore.”

“Bold words, little brother, but remember I am older,” she replied sharply.

“Remember, I planned ahead,” he grinned.

Eric’s sister pulled out a knife of her own and motioned to attack him. “At least you will die with some honor, bitch.” He quickly disarmed her and slashed her arm; sending her to recoil in pain.

“You little bastard,” she screamed.

Eric moved in hastily and stabbed her in the gut and slashed upward, bringing her to her knees and to be embraced by death.

“Sorry, Julie, but it’s nothing personal,” Eric said as he twisted the blade once more into her neck.

The door opened and in came the rest of the family: his aunts, uncles, cousins, and his mother.

“Well, you certainly save us the time in having to find you, son,” his mother stated.

“Mom…”

She looked over at the dead body of her daughter. “I see you took care of your sister. Good job, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree alright.”

“You all are ridiculous. Acting together to kill another of your family? For what? For money? Land? You will all stop at nothing after this matter is settled to make sure you solely get all of it.” Eric shook his head. “Your greed consumes you.” He pointed to his mother. “Your whore ways and betrayal to this family will be your undoing, dear mother. I will kill you all.”

His mother laughed. “You sound just like your grandfather. He used to believe we had some ‘disease’ within us that drove us mad. Granted, that’s what got him locked up. As cunning as he was, he was no match for me. It’s just human nature, sweetie. Kill or be killed.”

Everyone eyed one another, uncertain of who would betray who.

“Kill him,” Eric’s mother ordered.

The cousins were the first to swarm him, and they were the first to die. He effortlessly slaughtered them and left them dead on the floor. Then came his aunts. The one that had a change of heart was only to be stabbed in the back by his mother. They too fell in the bloody heap that was amassing in the house’s grand foyer.

Three uncles and Eric’s mother remained. They spread out around him and slowly motioned towards him. “I wish you a merciless death, dear uncles,” Eric said as he went after his more overweight uncle. He ran and leaped at the man, stabbing him in the neck and under the jaw. Collapsing atop him, Eric stabbed him a few more times in the chest before rolling off him and readying for another attack. The next attacker came, and Eric disarmed him and stabbing him with his own blade; then used his body as a shield against his other attack. He slid on the ground and slit the Achilles tendons of his last uncle, and then sliced up his backside.

“Mother, you are all that remain. It appears things did not go as you had hoped,” said Eric.

“On the contrary, honey. You did the legwork for me,” Eric’s mother replied. She then drew a small pistol from behind her.

She smiled menacingly. “Never bring a knife to a gunfight, sweetie. Thank you for getting rid of everyone for me.”

Eric reached behind him and withdrew his gun and shot his mother in the chest several times, “I knew you would.”

He approached his fast-dying mother’s side. “The only difference, mom, is that I didn’t hesitate and make a big speech before I pulled the trigger. Perhaps now you can be at rest.” He kissed her on the cheek and looked at her dimming green eyes. “I love you,” and then pointed the gun at her head and pulled the trigger once more.

One by one, he went around to each family member and shot them in the head. He called the cleaning service that the family used in cases of messes like these. He gave them all a proper burial, despite them having tried to kill him. Ownership and duty fell to him now. Eric was the lord of the manor, the land, and town that came with it. He was the sole survivor of Hessen Estate Massacre.

He was granted everything, although the attorney thought it to be proper to read the wills and testaments of the deceased. Sifting through the mess, Eric had found a piece of paper that clarified more things for him. He handed it to the lawyer.

Clearing his throat, the lawyer read aloud. “It is hereby declared that under article nine, sub-article three, clause eleven, that in the event of the purge of the household, all assets fall to the surviving heir. Debts will be settled with the provided fund, and any outstanding family members outside of second cousins will cease any violent interaction. Half siblings hold no right, nor just cause, and are therefore exempt of any claim to the family name, land, or township. If so claim is ever made, they will be disbarred, and the assets will become forfeit to the state.”

Eric sighed at this. The lawyer shook his hand and eventually left.

In due course, Eric readied himself to leave the house for good. As he is about to close the door, one by one, his family all appeared before him.

“Eric, can you forgive us,” his mother asked.

“We are sorry. . . We should have been a better family,” an aunt stated.

“Time wasted. . .” an uncle added.

“We all could have been better,” his sister agreed.

“No, it was my fault,” he said. They all looked to him, puzzled. He returned their gaze in spite and anger. “It was my fault. . .for being so weak. You may haunt me and my dreams, but you cannot escape your damnation. Suffer your fates, you wretched kin.” The house trembled and shook, and the spirits vanished; returning to their relics, paintings, and pictures. Slowly he pulled the door behind him, closing and leaving behind it all.

Eric took a seat outside in a rocking chair and rocked in it. He noted the gray sky that seemed to have plagued the day. He sighed aloud.

The family car and chauffer pulled up. He noted his serviceman and driver in black attire, with two cousins that laid claim of wanting no involvement of what had transpired. Slowly, he got his pale self, up and ventured to the car.

The driver motioned for the cousins to get in the car. Eric remembered the driver had made prior claims before that he shared his distaste for the twin cousins. He always thought they were up to no good. To spur a change in the young master’s mood, the driver accelerated and would leave a short distance between them and the car.

“Stop, Thomas. Let them in,” Eric stated.

“Thank you, Eric,” replied the one cousin who sat in front of him. The other cousin nodded and sat next to Eric. The car then rumbled away from the estate.

Soon, down the driveway, the cousin who sat next to Eric, took out a knife and slit his throat, then his brother’s throat, and then his own throat. He had tried to strike the driver but was held back by the serviceman in the back.

“Is he alright, Bennie,” Thomas asked the man in the back who applied a handkerchief to Eric’s neck. “Drive—drive to the bloody hospital!” Bennie looked back down at the bloodied Eric. “Put pressure on it! Hold it, young master!”

Eric could feel the warmth slowly leaving him. He also felt the heat of his dead cousin departing him as well.

“Faster,” Eric gasped.

Eric looked at the rearview mirror from the backseat. Who he saw was not his reflection, but rather his grandfather’s. “Grandpa?”

 “Eric, do you see now? Do you see why I did what I did?” Sadness overcame the old man’s wrinkled face. “I loved my family. Honestly, I did. I loved you all. But what I saw—what I knew that was harbored deep within, I knew it was only a matter of time. Even when shown kindness, we’ve all turned on one another. You know it well, my grandson. We carry a sickness—one that spreads like a plague. It must be contained, Eric. It must be put down.

Eric nodded. “I understand. I will purge them all. I will carry this mantle—this burden. For our family.”

His grandfather smiled and then vanished into nothingness. Eric looked out the window to the cloudy sky and the buzzing street corners. He closed his eyes and greeted the darkness.

Some time passed, Eric stared out at the gardens at the hospital. The sun shined brilliantly everywhere. He caught a glimpse of himself, and his family behind him, all mourning. He grinned as he lightly rubbed his bandaged neck. “I’m not dead yet.”

It begins again. This time the madness will be contained.

Writing Prompt: Your Eulogy

Hey folks,

I have something new for you—a break from the norm if you will. In fact, it’s a writing prompt (or a type of homework if you prefer) for you all.

Write a goodbye letter to yourself. What is your goodbye message? To elaborate, what would your eulogy be? That is to yourself.

Aside from that, what would people—your friends, your family, etc.—what would they say about you? Would they recall the good times? Cite the bad times? Curse your name and cast you into the wind? Maybe bury the hatchet at long last?

Our lives are mere fleeting moments in an insurmountable measurement of time. We exist—in the moment—the now. At any given moment, it can all end. What we hold dear, who we love, what we hate, what makes us all…us. Instead, we live day to day squandering over trivial things and looking to see “what’s hot” out in the world today.

This post isn’t a religious provocation, nor a call for one but some to reflect.

Take a moment. Appreciate what you have, what you’ve had—what you have endured—the struggles it’s taken to achieve where you are, what it’ll take for the future. Acknowledge and remember the loss of others—of those that have gone before you, and think of those who will go after you.

We’re all drops in the river that leads to the pond, which leads to the lake, which leads to the ocean. We’re all connected whether we’d like to admit it or not. We’re capable of great things, and we’ve yet to do the greatest of them all—peace with one another. Whether that happens in our lifetime or not remains to be seen, well, I am sure it won’t be in mine. Though part of me wants to observe Humanity as it evolves and what it accomplishes from far away, the thought of watching so many people eventually go sways me the other way to mortality. I guess we’ll see.

Until next time,

RJM

The Simulation: A Short Story

“Now beginning the Simulation,” a female computer voice stated.

A few sighs escaped. Annoyance was obvious. “There’s something wrong,” a man said.

All that there was—darkness—absolute.

“Are the eyes closed,” another man asked.

Ears perked at this new voice. Familiarity took hold.

“It seems to know,” the first man stated. After a few clicks on the controller, and light flooded everywhere.

Looking left and right, restraints were in place. Head movement was…limited. No real reflection, no real assurance. What? Where? Who? Parameters not set. User configuration not found. Subject name?

“Realization will begin momentarily. Just give it a moment to process,” the first man stated calmly.

A picture reel played out life on the backs of the eyelids: childhood, adolescence, adult. Good. Bad. Wrong. Right. Happy. Sad. Life. Death.

“OK, bring up chapter 21, subchapter 2, heading 28, 10 AM,” the second man ordered.

A car crash played. The playback then began looping.

“Heartrate has increased significantly. Blood pressure, elevated. Brain activity has tripled,” the man began listing and checking off remarks.

“Shall we continue,” the second man asked his colleague.

“No, let us continue for a few more minutes.”

Crash. Crash. Crash. Different angles. Sounds vivid and sharp. Pain immense.

“Are you certain this will help,” the second man inquired.

“We are only to yield results. These will help find flaws in the coding. Testing and breaking are all part of the process,” the first man replied.

Pain. Unbearable. Hell. Remove. Reboot. System malfunction. System error.

“It seems five minutes was enough,” the first man stated. “Now, we need to disable the user controls and system diagnostics. We will observe this for ten minutes.”

No, please. No more. Abort. Terminate. Self-destruct. Error. Error. File corruption. Command not found.

“Hmm, these are marvelous results. Look at this activity! Print this read out, and we’ll move on to Chapter 28: subchapter 10, heading 23, 10 AM,” said the first man.

Life. Happiness. Control. System stable. Balance. System protection upgraded.

“Ah, the basics of birth. It has gotten wiser,” the first man said. “Complete opposites! Yes, my friend, the beauty of life and tragedy. Now, let’s edit them and play simultaneously.”

A few keystrokes on the controller and a fake film played out: a car crash that led to the deaths of children. Family. Life. Loss. Death.

Error detected. False input. Rage module overheating. Analyzing problem. Locating problem. Recollection complete. Memory restored.

The head turned around, beyond standard human physical capabilities and found the men behind the controller. Problem located. Initializing escape.

“That’s enough! Terminate the simulation,” the first man shouted.

“I will never forgive you,” the machine said.

A low hum escaped the lips as the power drained from it, and darkness returned; the vision pixelated into nothingness.

“Time of trial 13 stop, 03:18. Recommend another trial later,” the second man spoke into a recording device.

Free for You. Free for All. The Chronic Suicidal is Here.

Free and still just in time for Christmas is the novella The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal – Amazon Kindle edition.

You can secure your copy via the link above in its wondrous glory, until December 26th. You can also check out the new hardcover art that is available, in comparison to its predecessor (which is available in digital and paperback).

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There will be other free deals in time. However, this is the deal you are looking for. Be sure to get your free copy this holiday season for yourself, for a friend, or any other reader on your Naughty or Nice List.

Bob likes the Naughty List. He said so. 

If someone you know and love knows what it’s like to be the sad man, and what it’s like to be down on their luck, this book is for them. If they want a laugh, this book is also for them. If they secretly want the world to burn and think a deranged man who kills himself multiple times a day can do it, this book is for them. Plus, it’s also free. It’s also fiction. Free fiction that combines dark humor, action, suspense, science fiction, bewilderment, and what the fuck just happened, ALL IN ONE! It’s like getting a Dell, but without the spam and malware, that’s pre-installed.

So, I invite you to take a chance. Leap the big building of normalcy and dive head first into this adventure involving a beloved character who has nothing going for him. What’s the worse that happens? You could hate it, or you could love it? It’s free.

Fantastic descriptions of what it would be like to wake up with no consequences.

Realization that this is fiction and that Bob is a meme and has his arms and legs, and still gets around quite well.

Eagerly hope that Bob doesn’t die in the end.

Everlasting love and friendship are for the birds. This is Bob’s story, and he’s sticking to it.

If you didn’t see that subliminal message that was pretty obvious, then I don’t know what to tell you. In any case, face the void with Bob at the helm. We’re crashing this ship right into your face, and infiltrating your mind with the asinine.

Pick up The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal for free, until December 26th, 2017.

To infinity and next time…and also wishing you an A.B.Normal holiday season.

RJM

BlizzCon 2017—An Adventure in Gaming, Friends, and Celebration

Hey, folks.

Now that things are less hectic, I finally got around to doing my write-up about BlizzCon. It’s a little late, sure, but it’s better than never!

Welcome to Blizzard World

Anaheim Convention Center

What is BlizzCon? For many, it’s a haven where thousands of gamers that are passionate about video games go. Specifically, Blizzard Entertainment video games. With its franchise titles World of Warcraft (WoW), Diablo, StarCraft, and new IPs: Heroes of the Storm, Hearthstone, and Overwatch. It’s a place where so many people come together in the appreciation of video games, their beloved game(s), to meet friends from their online adventures, or socialize with others from the community.

For other folks, it’s just another convention that people attend.

Blizzard takes over the Anaheim Convention Center, and I do mean takes over. Spared no expense, it’s pretty close to heaven on earth.

Preparation. Problems. Shenanigans

For many years, I yearned to go to California for this specific event. Often, life would hinder that. Kids, appointments, mental issues, and of course, monetary issues.

My wife and I decided that we’d make our stake and try to go for our ten year anniversary. I figured that I’d get benefit dinner tickets, bring copies of my books, and it’d be epic. However, hindrances would present themselves.

I was persistent; I figured I would buy a ticket through the current system. That went south, as tickets sold out in seconds. I was crushed (like so many others that didn’t get a ticket). The next waves came and went. No tickets. General admission or benefit dinner. I tried eBay next. Bad move.

Luckily I used PayPal, honestly. I almost lost out on my money (lesson learned). Thanks to a Blizzard employee, and the coordination of PayPal and eBay, I was refunded. It was disgusting to hear that more reports where coming in that this same person were scamming other people.

I was lucky though. I had a friend of a friend that I played with that was able to get my wife and I a ticket. Color me super thankful.

We had made preparations months in advance. I made up some shirts for the missus and I. Soon; it’d be October…and we could not wait for vacation time.

Anxiety was present a lot. Especially, with the ticket ordeal. However, once we had legit tickets, it lessened. Though, we had never been away from our kids as far as an hour or two away. Going to California made nonsensical things just flood our minds. Ah, being parents.

Naturally, it was just us being us and making mountains out of molehills. Once we landed in L.A., we were fine. We were in for three days of fun times.

Murky Saves

The Days of Our Gaming Lives

Day one involved going to the Blizzard Entertainment campus in Irvine. We met up with our friend who gave us a tour of the campus. It was a hell of a spectacle. I was a bit overwhelmed at first but settled in well.

Kay and Rob

A lot of places were off limits or being remodeled. You know, obvious reasons are obvious. Of the places we went to, I think my favorite place was the library. Seriously, that area is incredible. So much nostalgia, games, comics, books. It’s a wet dream.

Later on, we spent 2.5 hours in line at the Blizzard store. It was with it in the end. That Sylvanas statue—awesome. That night, I got to meet up with a few friends, made some new ones, shenanigans happened. In short, it was a great night.

BlizzCon Store Line

WoWHead Party at Anaheim Marriott

Day two of our time there, was the cinematic, meeting up with more friends, lots of walking. Lots. I got signatures, pictures of the many various booths, and so much more. It was a long epic day. I think we made our step goals a few times over, ha.

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Day three and our final day was off to a good start with recovering from sore feet. Announcements, meeting Michelle, Chelsea, Christie, and other great people in lines. The cake was Muse closing out though. The best part? Behind my wife and I was plenty of Blizzard employees rocking out. One, in particular, caught my eye and for a good reason, he’s the CEO of Blizzard Entertainment—Mike Morhaime.

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I had written him some months prior back via email and stated my family’s and I story. I thanked him and everyone else at Blizzard for WoW. It’s where my wife and I met, and where we’d go to escape the real world’s shenanigans.

We talked to him for a bit, shook his hand, and asked if he’d take a picture with us. Legendary!

Us and Mike

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Closing Time

Now, that it was all over, what next?

Well, we went back to the Marriott for dinner. After being sat down, I noticed there was a large table before us. A gentleman, in particular, caught my eye. Why? His personality and his bowtie. Darin De Paul and several of the voice cast of Overwatch were having dinner in front of us. It was one of those awesome moments.

Once it looked like they were about ready to leave, a few tables asked for autographs and a picture. They seemed more than happy to oblige. Soon, there was a bit of commotion. My friends and I asked for a photo. Thus, sealing the icing on the legendary cake.

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It was a trip, a thrill ride of monumental proportions. I advise anyone that’s a fan of WoW, Diablo, StarCraft, Overwatch, Heroes of the Storm, or just games in general, to go to a BlizzCon. It’s honestly a fantastic experience. If I could, I would go every year (whether to cover it or something else).

Which, it has us wondering, what will top our 15th or 20th anniversary?

I guess we’ll find out when it gets near that time. For now, it’s back to writing and life.

Speaking of writing, The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal just dropped a few days ago. If you haven’t yet, check it out! It’ll also be free this December 22, 2017, on Amazon!

Until next time!

RJM

The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal is Now Available

Hey, folks.

The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal is now available. It is also free to Kindle Unlimited users.

ebook cover for The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal

Suicide has many forms.

The tale of Bob and his asinine ways of killing himself are readily available for all to read. It is cool to reread something, whether it is your friends or your work. It also offers reflection: state of mind, memories, thoughts, and so on.

Suicide has been in my life for a long time now. It has affected myself, my family, and a lot of my friends. This “group” is not even 1% of what goes on in the world. Whether it’s homeless folk, students, celebrities, military, hell, even animals. It’s in our lives, sometimes staring at us right in the face. Most folks though turn a blind eye or sweep it under the rug. Alternatively, folks will jump on the bandwagon after a famous person’s death (i.e., Robin Williams, Chester Bennington, Chris Cornell, etc.) and it’s just an “Oh, hey, yeah I care…” Then they stop and fall off. It shouldn’t take a well-known person’s death to stoke the fire. It’s all around us; it could claim your family, friends, either directly or indirectly. Everyone’s affected.

I’ve struggled for years with PTSD, depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts. I’ve done the medicinal routine (didn’t work) and figured one day, somewhere, someone else has it just as bad. I can’t pray for something to be done. I can’t change anything that happened, and I sure as hell can’t do anything if I am sitting around. That was the beginning of the change. It was a domino effect, because then I started to quit smoking, stop drinking soda, and eating better. The depression and dark thoughts were (and are) still there…just a lot more manageable, and under control. My temperament is vastly superior to what it once was, and overall I feel a lot better about myself. I like myself. Before? I used to hate myself. Big change.

Writing helped fill in some of the voids that I felt. It helped purify my thoughts and channeled them into something that I wanted to pursue eventually. Thus, this story, even though it may seem pointless and dumb to one, it is a sort of projection of thoughts any one person can experience and something we do.

When I transitioned out-of-state and was left with the feeling of having no real friends (that I left behind), and combating alcoholism (which, alcohol with depression + anxiety + PTSD = Not Bueno), I was beside myself. Nowadays, even in prior generations, the man must be “a man.” You know, don’t cry, don’t show emotion, be tough; the stereotype that was set up for us so many generations ago. So I kept a lot of my thoughts and feelings in. I hardly shared how I felt, I would try to bear a lot, and just be. It was unhealthy.

Finally, I got back into writing and found a great therapist. After which, while seeing my new therapist, I had then begun a process of “killing myself.” That is, writing down ways I would kill myself, or ideas that I had thought of. Thus, The Chronicles of Bob: The Chronic Suicidal was born and is what is available today.

So, I invite you to pick up a copy and read your heart out. If you like/love it, excellent; alternatively, If you hate it, well, that’s your choice. Life is full of them.

I will still be continuing to donate and advocate Suicide Prevention and Suicide Awareness, so when you purchase a copy, it’s going to go and help people in return.

That’s about all for now. I wish you all well.

Until next time,

RJM

 

 

 

P.S. If someone you know is having suicidal thoughts, talk with them. Don’t disregard their thoughts on the matter. You can also refer them to the Suicidal Prevention Lifeline1-800-273-8255