My genre-friendly prose and poetry, including fantasy and science fiction. Satire goes here, too.
Eventually, GLADiators morphed into Mudball, an animated series pitch about children stranded on a distant planet. They would explore the ruins of a alien civilization from their downed spaceship while trying to find ways to contact their parents. Basically, Gilligan’s Island meets Lord of the Flies meets Carl Sagan meets TVTropes.
Here’s a quick comic starring Mae Bee (a tough, gruff ruffian of a girl), Zettle (a rash blind girl), and Nord (a neurotic, nervous boy):
The Boss slammed a slag of printed emails onto Gary’s desk, knocking over a picture of his wife.
“Pervert!” she shouted.
Gary froze like rugby players in the West Andes. This was exactly how he pictured a sexual harassment lawsuit beginning (although technically they began a little earlier, with the actual sexual harassment). But who was the prosecution? The women in the office intimidated him so badly he avoided speaking with them. Nor could the Boss be his offendee. She was less woman, more wyvern, with liver spots the approximate size and shape of actual livers.
The emails relieved him – temporarily. They were customer complaints, mostly exclamation marks and misspelled words, certain passages highlighted in salmonella pink. It was regarding the bridge.
“Thirty-two,” the Boss said on the verge of gargling. “Thirty-two complaints including a letter from the Chamber of Commerce regarding that damn bridge.”
Gary reviewed the papers. “Is it an instability problem?”
“Your bridge,” she said, “is putting sexy thoughts into people’s heads.”
Desmond, Write 