Alex Bone

Alex Bone

Alex Bone (Michael D. Griffiths) is a man who likes to keep busy, too bad it mostly involves cleaning squirrels. In the past, his writing has been published in numerous periodicals and anthologies sometimes even published by someone else. He was awarded first place in Withersin’s 666 contest, which he was told will later give him the Golden Ticket tour of the third plane of Hell. He is on the staff of The Daily Discord, Cyberwizard Productions, SFReader, and on the Board of Directors for the Society of Advanced Humans that Seek to Live as Viking Ninjas. His series The Chronicles of Jack Primus is available through Living Dead Press. After being bitten by a zombie, his attentions have turned toward the walking dead and he has begun a new Zombie Apocalypse series called the Eternal Aftermath. When he discovered that he was a cloned from Eric the Red’s DNA, he wrote the Science Fiction series Skinjumpers. Later while experimenting with strange fungus, he slipped into a Fantasy world ruled by the mad mage Dalsala Den.

A Room In The Hand Is Worth More Than Sleeping In A Bush

What If Women Were All Stronger Than Men?

e5782b1118e985c87cdfa8b41b8cdf15WARNING: This is the first in a series of 800. What if women were on average twice as strong as men? First off, I should point out why women aren’t currently twice as strong as men. You might think it is so men will be more attracted to them, but you would be wrong. It’s because if they were stronger than us they would have killed off all the men and the species would have gone extinct a long time ago. I think having an incredibly strong woman around might make some things happen more quickly. “I’m going to make a garden, damn it!” A day of gardening would suddenly involve a woman tearing out whole trees and tossing them over a wall. “You, get me some seeds! Right now!”

From Crappiness to Happiness in Three Easy Steps

Bone 4Collapsing Shack, AZ—Most of us have our mental health ups and downs, or as I prefer to call them: 1. drinking or 2. working. Some people certainly have a leg up on the happiness scale. What advantages do they have that I’m missing, besides talent and a life? Between dumpster diving and jamming out to old punk tunes in the dirt, I have discovered what these other Americans have going for them and where I may be lacking. After almost thirty minutes of effort, I have outlined a method to improve one’s happiness. I don’t think it will help me, I am too far gone, but perhaps you, gentle reader, will gain something from all of my hard work …or at least come to appreciate how you’re not as bad off as the old Bone Man.

The Daily Discord’s Ten Question Punk Rock Challenge

Punk Hiar

How punk are you? Would you really like to know? With this handy quiz, now you can! Amaze your friends, or disgust them outright. Get kicked out of pubs, or finally get invited back into them! Just hit the read more button, answer the ten questions, and you too could be the next punk rock star, destined to couch surf your way to unemployment.

Plague Outbreak Slows Down Discord Production

Plague Outbreak Slows Down Discord Production
Alex Bone

Collapsing Shack, AZ—The Daily Discord film crew was forced to push back the start date of their soon to be Oscar nominated epic “Belch of the Mogollon Monster.” The latest S.T.Q. blockbuster was slated to be filmed on location in scenic Picture Canyon, conveniently located just outside of Flagstaff, but less than a week before the shoot the site was closed due to an infestation of plague-bearing fleas.

The Discord’s writer, editor, actor, producer, stage hand, prop boy, bar back, driver, and animal trainer, Zano, had this to say: “This is obviously a government plot, which means we are getting close to the truth. What is in Picture Canyon that they don’t want us to see? What secrets are they worried that we will uncover? Oh, and what time is it? Cokie asked me to pick up her dry cleaning.”

Alex Bone, the Discord’s Senior Camping Correspondent, towel boy, and Yig advocate added, “This isn’t going to help us either professionally or personally. Most of us are homeless and needed to camp in the Canyon just to make sure we were there on time. Zano didn’t even want to tell us about the plague and we only found out about the shutdown while we were on a beer run. He wants to start the filming again tomorrow, but I can’t get out of my wet sleeping bag and my body is now covered with purple growths the size of goose eggs. This time they aren’t hickies, honey, honest!”

Cameraman Greg was heard saying. “I wish I had known too. I parked my ride there and the plague infested prairie dogs must have mutated somehow, because they drove away with my car. I found it trashed downtown and the cops told me they had what the kids are calling a Plague Party, which is where the young prairie dogs have fleas bite them until they catch the ‘Black Buzz.’ Then they vomit and crap everywhere, just like Bone. They shit all over my Karman Ghia. Looks like I’ll be sleeping on the broken folding chair in Ballz’ basement again.”

Zano tried to plead with Winslow for more funding for the project, but was told that if he already spent the fifteen dollars allocated for the three month project on beer then he was shit out of luck. After sending photos of our plague infested bodies, Winslow suggested we shoot a zombie movie instead, adding, “Think of the money we’ll save on makeup, Zano!”

We also learned too late that passing around joints and bottles of tequila when some of the people in the room have the Black Plague is a bad idea as well. As we all laid on the floor of the Man Cave counting our black plague boils we were informed by Ballz’ mother that it was time to leave. Stricken and homeless and losing limbs, we hit the streets.

What do you call a punk rocker without a girlfriend?

Homeless.

What do you call a punker rocker without a girlfriend who has the plague?

Gutter Goo.

The show must go on so Belch of the Mogollon Monster will be filmed later this month near Sunset Crater. It will star all of the survivors. It doesn’t help that Winslow pulled our health insurance this year, the bastard.

Paranormal Entities Sue Discord Over Rights Infringements

Alex Bone

From the old sofa in Tony Ballz’s Basement—As our three loyal fans can attest, The Daily Discord’s Search Truth Quest team continues to unravel the truth behind many hauntings and cryptid sightings across the southwest. Just last month we discovered that nothing paranormal whatsoever was occurring over at Hops on Birch pub. We shut this case after dedicating dozens of man hours, night after night, staking the place out. We left no Stone IPA unturned.  

Why the managers over there weren’t willing to pay for our services remains another mystery and may well be the focus of our next investigation, night after night, staking the place out. We’ll leave no Stone IPA unturned. 

Yet just as we became recognized locally as paranormal investigators our momentum ground to a halt—and that usually only happens when Zano refuses to buy another round. Our team was notified by our CEO, Pierce Winslow, that the Existential Ghosts for Assuming Dominance and Superiority (E—G.A.D.S.) had opened a legal claim against team STQ. Winslow went on to say we were all fired again, except Cokie, and that all of our security clearances at Discord Tower were hereby revoked.

Lucky for us, Winslow never allowed Ballz to officially move in so we could still crash in his basement as long as we promised not to touch anything, make any phone calls, use the internet, eat any of his food, use the shower or the bathroom, or touch anything.

But why were we being sued and by whom? I thought.

After an exhausting phone book search, we found the local chapter of E—G.A.D.S. What is the deal with phone books? The Joogle was down so we went retro. Anyway, I hopped on my bike and rode the fifty miles to their clandestine headquarters. Zano said he would have given me a ride, but a new coffee shop had opened and he needed to investigate some of the expresso as well as some of the baristas.

Upon reaching E—G.A.D.S., I was led through a passageway built from tombstones into a small crypt that served as the office for a lawyer named Ecto P. Lasim. When asked why we were being sued, he said, “We spirits of the liminal nether realms have taken great offence at your lame attempts to expose us via bad puns and the like. But Zano’s ectopilsner theory will not stand!”

When I asked him about all the other ghost busting shows, he replied. “Oh those ones are way off base, but if the secret of ectopilsner were to be made public, we’d be ruined! We might even have to start paying our own afterlife bar tabs.”

Rubbing my brow for a moment, I looked at his floating form and said, “But won’t the fact that we are being sued by ghosts be the one thing that could really prove your existence?”

Then, before I knew what was happening, his head began to smoke and the building shook under my feet.

“Everything I say is a lie. I am lying,” I added. His body pulsed red and cracks appeared in the walls. “If God is all powerful, can he create a nipple so big that even he can’t suck it?”

Lasim screamed as he burst into a thousand ecto-piddled pieces. The headquarters of E—G.A.D.S. collapsed around me as I fled.  It wasn’t too different from that last Discord party at Winslow’s mid-august home—the one we threw without his knowledge while he was on his two year cruise to Atlantis.

Looking around I saw that no evidence remained. If only our cameraman hadn’t been busy making sure all our card decks had fifty three cards in them, he would have been here. We could have finally proven that ghosts do exist. But instead my bike was stolen by elves and I had leprechauns and paranormal serial killers harassing me on the long walk home.

As for the last insult:

I tried to take pictures of them with my cell, but Winslow had already canceled my cell phone service.

Jack Primus Thwarts Conservative Attempt to Reanimate Undead Voters

Alex Bone

Scallywag Tavern—In a bid to clinch the Senate in the coming midterm elections as well as impress chicks, the Skull and Bones chapter of the Republican Party is working out a deal with the devil known as Mamook, a pod of the Migo, and the corpse of Michael Jackson. In a last dying gasp to attempt to hold on to political relevance they have hatched a truly diabolical plan. They aim to stretch out the Day of the Dead until November 4th, pardon the pundit. The Republican Reanimation Attempt to Take the Senate (RATS) is complete and they have that buzzzzz thing from Frankenstein’s laboratory.

I caught up to Congressman William Lynn, and he agreed to answer a few of my questions, as long as I let him sacrifice my dog. I let him as to quote Peter Sellers…that’s not my dog. My first question was whether these republications would be like the flesh-eating undead, as seen on The Walking Dead, or the really athletic ones on World War Z, or pretty much lame and pathetic, like the way republicans legislated while alive.

“We are already favored in the midterms but we’re not taking any chances. This may be our last hooray and we would be reaaaally glad to see Zano wrong about something,” said Lynn.

When asked if undead voters will A. be controllable and B. will be likely republican voters, Lynn said, “This is not an exact mad science. Sure some republicans will be devoured during the release phase but most conservatives will be ready, especially after passing recent Walker Your Ground legislation. When I look at the places we tend to get out the dead vote, they’re packed with unarmed Democrats, prime to be eaten. Hell, Colorado and Washington might not even notice.”

When I asked him how he planned to get the zombies to vote, he offered to show me and then pushed me off a cliff. Luckily, I am very tall and the cliff was very short. So after getting patched up, I phoned the Stalwart known as Jack Primus to help with this carnivorous conservative crisis (CCC). He was already aware of the problem and glad to help, if I plugged his latest novel on Amazon, here. I met him down at the Scallywag Tavern and, as we each let a few IPAs ease our wounded muscles, he filled me in.

“I got wind of the Republican agenda through a devil I was dating at the time,” said Primus. “I know, I know, dating a devil is weird, but at least we never danced. Besides, she’s really not too different than my last girlfriend. As for those necro-enhanced red dead staters (NERDS!), they are being reanimated through some evil spell with the help from the undulating maggots of doom, the Migo, up in the horrid rolling hills of Vermont. Right under Bernie Sanders’ nose!”

I asked about the constitutionality of such a practice and Primus said, “They claim the constitution is to protect after-life, liberty and the pursuit of brains, the way our forezombies envisioned. So naturally, I grabbed up and few throwing knives, my sledge, a six pack of woop ass, and headed up there. But yeah, there were like two hundred of them and they captured me. I was forced to watch Fox News while they cut my hair and forced me to drop my healthcare plan in the name of freedom. Then they started measuring me for a complete sweater and tan slacks ensemble with a matching flag lapel pin. I thought I was doomed.”

“How did you survive?” I asked.

“Well, I had a little weed on me, you know, just a pound or two. The Republidemons said they wanted to confiscate it, because that’s what the War on Drugs is all about. Then they decided to try it so they’d ‘know what those bastards in Colorado were up to.’ So they took a hit. Then they tried some more. Then they tried a little more. Soon they had switched the TV from Fox News to The Walking Dead, you know, just to get some ideas. While they were all zoned out on the couch I tried to destroy their Magick scrolls, but they had already torn them apart to make rolling papers. Mission accomplished.”

With the aid of liberal amounts of marijuana, Jack Primus stopped the evil Republidemons from destroying the planet or worse, winning the midterms. Well, that still might happen as the forces of evil are everywhere. There might be a moral lesson here, but Jack and I are still zoned out on this couch with all these evil Repulidemons. Send chips! And early voting ballots!