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  • Writer's pictureVanessa Brownbridge

Intro to book: excerpts from Cake, Loveplay, Santa, Maria and Cohappulations

Updated: Sep 29, 2022

Space Station: HODD SUBTLE: S.S.H.S

HODD Haven's Ordered Daily Delivered.

With dexterous, serious, powerful capabilities not developed in upright, he uncannily ripped off more than he should have. Then gutter man Troll, armed to his teeth and bald nerve with several clambers of ‘his dirtiest dozens’, a tough, brazen pack, flew up the stalks ripping them up entirely!

Storming through the night they stealthily climbed their way in a steep out of stellar trajectory to the Mighty Might’s Isles and the merry folk of Avonlea happily enjoying themselves, outside of their grand Castle home.

These sordid Coarse Hairs were Warlocks, parted Prats, and Brag Trolls and although small in the land of the Colossals were plenty sick, violent, and murderously crafty in stealing another man’s vitals. Swiftly taking stock and calling his horde to him, Troll Prat said, “Axe marks spot!” alluding to where all his searches had led him. Ancestor’s tales be whatever in preserves, but HERE was a place worth stealing from!

He could feel it for certain, as loudly as the growls in his belly and taste it in his teeth, which never lied, even with all the contusions in his head and he indicated all this in powerful sign language to his ill henchmen, enticing his men to their Fates. “Who else could have believed all those old tales possible?” he bragged piratically, hooking them firmly, in all the right places.

Fine weather it always was here, the ancestor had told of the Havens of Fey, accurately describing the big people, easy to steal from. The Giants were always full and in heady celebration of the times and good fortunes the whole place was filled to the brim of.

All the more, he thought savagely of the Fair Out there and Far Out of the World to desecrate, eviscerate and destroy. This was His Castle, certainly it had been seen in however many greats of Grand-Poppy’s Warlock’s dreams – moreover it had been foretold by the Longnecks of Time from the backends of cave ins . . . yonkers ago!

Lucifer’s pally and son, for that is who he was, More Dread; a breeder of cravens and cursed boils – could hardly believe his eyes even as he rallied his chaps. He had visited this place in his slake dreams forever, his cruel Witches’ too – kept egging him on to find it. The savage eel drake was ill advised! Heavily ensorcelled with Black Lota smoke, cunning plans and planned murder under mighty spelled Artifacts craftily stolen from unsuspecting Fey, came about and although the demon was fiercely comic looking, he was not!

A ruthless savage hewed and half cut of troll and man he was – darkly focused on this Fortuna of Majors taking place before him and he grinned! His warlocks’ psychedelic, banshee cackles rang like sweet music through the crackles in his veins and the black Lota Locks locked – and so they evilly plotted to hook!

Wait till he was King here; he’d own the Cosmos! He would grow enormous plantations of slaves, drugs, women, and boozy evil then sell it. Monkey money, guns, slaves – the world would be HIS! And all the Drakes came and how they slavered!

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