The Damned Lies Project

Wherein I reach the gathering, learn about the Emperor, and have my first tournament bout.

The gathering was held in an uninhabited part of West Texas.  As we rode in on the train, the summer heat was unbearable.  The boxcar door remained open, and I spent most of my time sitting on the edge so that the wind cooled me.  I felt like a happy dog with my face in the wind, but the truth was I wasn’t exactly happy.  Besides the heat making me miserable, I was nervous about the tournament.  They were only taking the top fighters, so it’d only be a max of four fights.  Even still, that’s more than I was used to in one night.

I watched the scenery go by for hours before Kirby tapped me in the shoulder.  The spot was coming up.  Since this gathering would be huge, we needed it away from any main cities.  No non-hobos could ever know about this gathering.  It would scare them.  So to get there, we were leaping off the train at a preappointed spot.  By this point, we were in the dryer West Texas where rock formations dotted the scorched earth.  The jumping point was when you saw the rock that looked like it was giving the middle finger.  When I heard it, I thought that would be hard to notice.  But when I saw it, I’m not sure how anyone could miss it.  West Texas was giving you a big old Fuck You as you rode the train by. Read the rest of this entry »

Wherein I rip off a montage and I earn an invitation.

What followed my indoctrination into bare knuckle hobo boxing was a series of fights as I went up the circuit ladder.  We rode the rails, and outside of each town, somewhere near the tracks there was a clearing where the hobos congregated at night.  While some came for company, many came just to see the fights.

I won fight after fight and travelled to so many out of the way nowheres that the whole experience is one long blur of trains, punches, and victories.  Imagine an Eighties montage of “You’re the Best” by Joe Esposito with me punching hobos and them crumpling to the floor.  The montage and music are very important to that image.  Otherwise, I look like a psychopath who likes beating up homeless people for fun.  That’s not true.

It was only a little fun. Read the rest of this entry »

So we’re trying something new. Here’s our first ever webcomic. Click to enlarge if needed.  Enjoy!

Feedback and comments are of course appreciated.

Wherein I discover a hidden talent and acquire a new name.

“And now the challenger:  Tennessee Tex Tornado!”

You might be surprised to find out that I was that challenger.  No, I wasn’t from Tennessee, I wasn’t from Texas, and I’m not sure how someone could be from both.  Was I a tornado?  That was just flair.  But in boxing a flurry of punches is a very good thing.  Especially if it’s on the Hobo Boxing Circuit. Read the rest of this entry »

Wherein homicidal tendencies are tested and Anne Rice loses a sale

The day after graduation, I was due back at my part-time job.  I hadn’t left town yet.  This was our dry run.  My clone would work my job, while I would find something to occupy myself and stay out of sight of anyone who might realize I was in two places at once.  My clone didn’t understand why it was such a big deal, because he was me in every way.  He even said that he wanted me to go; he said that if he was stuck here working, he at least wanted to enjoy it without having to share.

I worked in a bookstore.  That could have been cooler if I didn’t happen to work in a bookstore in the mall.  Trade in the musty book smell and interesting finds for corporate masters, overdone lighting, and more James Patterson than you can shake a stick at.  Rather than having a good spread of titles, they focused more on having many copies of the “It” titles.  They’d rather keep shelves full of extra copies of NY Times bestsellers and Oprah’s book club novels that no one was buying than use that space for variety.

Of all the people I worked with, there were two that stuck out: Sebastian and Marina.  Read the rest of this entry »

Wherein graduation commences and suspicions grow

The next day was high school graduation.  My clone was under strict orders to stay home and out of sight.  Since I was there when he woke up, I was clearly the “real” me and the one in command.  He was the copy and so was on bitch duty.  He didn’t respond well to this at first, but my logic was irrefutable.  Also, I wouldn’t let him out of the plastic tube until he agreed.

I drove over to Bruce’s house before graduation.  My family was driving to the ceremony later.  All graduates had to get there early and stand in a prearranged line.  I got dressed before I left for Bruce’s.  My high school eschewed the traditional cap and gown in favor of something a little more classy.  All the men were required to wear white tuxes, complete with black bow tie, while the ladies were required to wear white dresses.  While in quick moments it seemed like a scene from a GQ ad, overall it worked. Read the rest of this entry »

Wherein a clone is conceived of and conceived.

I replaced myself with a clone one summer.

It was the summer between high school and college.  Graduation was next weekend, and while I had a summer job, my life was otherwise uneventful.  Friends began to get apartments near school, threw themselves into summer jobs to make college money, or disappeared on their own adventures.  I also wanted to disappear too, but I needed to make money over the summer.  My parents would probably freak out too.

I don’t remember where the clone idea came from.  Read the rest of this entry »

Wherein douchebaggery is exposed and Baron Munchausen gets mad props.

After a few days, Bruce finally visited me in the hospital.  He claims he visited me already; he says I was still out of it due to my concussion.  I don’t remember him visiting me, so as far as I’m concerned, this was the first time.

He apologized for setting me up with Deborah.  But he had heard about how I orchestrated the fight with Becky, and made an impromptu escape from the scene of the crime.  Because of that, he wasn’t quite so sympathetic.  I tried offering my reasons, justifying the need for a girl-on-girl fistfight in a nice restaurant, as well as my need for a low profile.  He just shook his head and wondered why I was that way. Read the rest of this entry »

Wherein I am told the vomiting is inevitable, I bow to peer pressure, and I discover a new favorite drink.

I went to my first metal concert when I was fourteen.  It was a Pantera/Skid Row show at Madison Square Garden.  One of my older brothers was taking me.  A metal fan for years, this was his way of inducting me into the culture.  He was just glad I wasn’t a Madonna fan like another brother.

“Since it’s your first metal concert, you gotta get drunk and throw up,” he said.  His two friends nodded and grunted.  This was the way it had been, and this is the way it was going to be.  The metal gods had dictated the law, and we must follow it. Read the rest of this entry »

Wherein I regale you with tales of metal shows past.

“I once knew a man named Ed… who used to dance with the dead.  DEAD.  SKIN.  MASK!”

I was seventeen years old and at a Slayer concert.  My first and only Slayer concert, to be exact.  I’ve always been a big fan of metal off and on, but there was a period during my teenage years where I had a love affair with the very heavy metal – death metal, black metal, and anything angry and moshable.  This led me to Slayer’s Rein in Blood album, and then to Seasons in the Abyss, which they were currently playing songs off of.

I’m not sure why the hospital made me reminisce about heavy metal.  Maybe because it was so unlike the deathly clinical silences, the serenely white walls, and the undanceable beat of the hospital machines.  Maybe the isolation made me angry.  Maybe I just wanted to hear some fucking metal. Read the rest of this entry »