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Home File a Report Consumer Resources Search Link to Ripoff Report Customer Support for Technical Issues General Questions and Suggestions Privacy Policy Terms of Service FAQ About Us Why Ripoff Report will not release author information! In Retro Movie Missions the Retronauts fire the Retro-rockets on their Retro-starship to take a look back at some retro-movies! Join Captain Ben, Sergeant Steve, and Ensign Evan as they explore the Disney sci-fi movie BLACK HOLE! With the new Star Wars teaser release, Ben, Steve, and Evan talk about their thoughts of the teaser and address some items from the mailbag! Ben and Evan are joined by three friends to take another trip to the theater…this time to see BATMAN v. People FOR Superman recognize that he’s pretty much all powerful, from X-Ray vision to impervious skin.
Think about it: Superman is the ultimate in racial privilege, while Batman is the ultimate in financial privilege.
Striped away of alien strength and 1% wealth, if they met on the field of battle (a dark alley or an actual field of corn?) Batman’s core personality probably gives him an edge in the fight. If it was completely unexpected — in other words, Batman was attacking Superman with no foreknowledge, Batman absolutely could assassinate Superman. So this arguing about who can best the other in battle is, in truth, a pretty useless exercise. People FOR Superman appreciate his ideals, his strength, not just of ARMS, but of character. People AGAINST Batman argue that he is someone who has taken the law into his own hands, become judge and jury, and may have a moral code against guns or killing (depending on the current writer) but who is a paranoid psychopathic law unto himself. People attracted to Batman’s positive qualities look to a man who has overcome the lose of his parents in a tragic death in front of his eyes. And both are characters who, while there are some flaws in their character, and there may be flaws in the presentation of their stories at time, can be looked up to. If you relate to Superman more, it’s because you see someone with great power who uses it responsibly (if not perfectly) to make the world a better place. I believe that, while I may be missing some nuances and perhaps some specifics (please, if I’ve missed YOUR reasons for loving one character or the other, sound off below) this is why both of these characters have resonated with fans for three quarters of a century!
From Star Wars to X-Files to Heroes, old heroes have been making a return…and they make their return, well, older! In this episode we take a look at some of our favorite and not so favorite returns and what those returns bring with them! The government’s finally going to reveal what Fox Mulder has been waiting for all these years . The X-Files has returned, and Steve and Ben WERE pretty excited…and now they are ready to wade through the final three episodes!
A monster of the week, a supernatural FBI tale, and a mythology episode again give a pretty good sampling of what the X-Files was all about, but how did it live up to the X-Files’ legacy?
Join Captain Ben, Sergeant Steve, and Ensign Evan as they explore Jim Henson’s classic movie LABYRINTH! A transmedia project about an secret group of multi-generational warriors in the never-ending battle against evil, League of the Gray is part Buffy the Vampire Slayer and part Golden Girls!
Ben talks with Sandy Brownlee, the mastermind behind this web series, about the project’s origins, its future, and how people can help this transmedia project come to fruition!
The X-Files has returned, and Steve and Ben are pretty excited…although we have different reactions to SOME of these first three episodes of X-Files season 10. With a mythology episode, a mystery episode, and a humor episode, the first three episodes of this six episode series give a pretty good sampling of what the X-Files was all about, but how did it live up to the X-Files’ legacy? Also, Ben and Steve welcome Evan officially into the fold as the fourth “strange alien”! For a holiday treat, we read Charles Dickens’ precursor to A Christmas Carol, The Goblins Who Stole a Sexton, a chapter from The Pickwick Papers. This episode has conversation on the way, conversation in the theater before the movie started, some parking lot conversation after the movie, and commentary on the drive home! Ben is joined by four of his five kids to talk about their thoughts and reactions to the Star Wars prequel trilogy! Ben and Steve are joined by Evan David to discuss some of their favorite “very special Christmas” episodes of TV shows, movies, and comics!
Ben and Steve open up the listener feedback mailbag and discuss a few responses to our recent episodes. Ben and Steve take a look back at all 19 Jaws movies, from Jaws to Jaws 4: The Revenge, from Cyberjaws to Jaws in NY, from the prequels to the reboot to the return to the original continuity in this year’s Jaws 19!
Joined by The Static Blade’s Evan David, Ben, Steve, and their guest talk about their top ten favorite animated series of all time. The three sci-fi guys are together again, taking a look at the top ten biggest money making movies of all time. Ben and Steve talk about some of their favorite fictional sports, from futuristic racing to sci-fi fighting to fantastic competitions. In a non-review, Ben recommends some movies that actually succeed at some of the things that 2015’s Fantastic Four was trying to be. So for this episode, we have some fun poking fun at Obi Wan Kenobi and his really poor decision making.
Some weeks ago, Simon Pegg made some controversial statements about geekdom and cinema and where it seemed to be heading. The topic is Tomorrowland, as Ben joins forces with special guest Even David from The Static Blade Podcast! The trio is back together again, and it’s time to discuss Avengers: Age of Ultron, the first big movie of the summer movie season!
Ben and his four oldest children have just finished watching the original trilogy of Star Wars, and now they have gathered together to discuss them! This is the weekend we celebrate Easter, and in this episode we take the time to reflect on Easter, Good Friday, and the Last Supper.
Ben is joined by his family in a series of readings and writings about some aspects of the Holy Week. It’s an off the cuff reaction episode, and mostly spoiler free, as he tried to convince listeners that they might like the movie! Our top ten lists are second to none and these lists have caused a quite stir amongst our readers. To understand ourselves it is important to understand our ancestors, and a part of them, and their heritage, lives on in us today.
To the world the American Indians seemed like a forgotten people when the English colonists first arrived and began to occupy their lands.
I want to give special thanks to my cousin, Mary Hilliard, for her assistance and encouragement in researching and preparing this book.
Wherever possible I have tried to find at least two sources for the genealogical data, but this has not always been possible. I have also found Franklin Elewatum Bearce's history, Who Our Forefathers Really Were, A True Narrative of Our White and Indian Ancestors, to be very helpful.
It is certainly possible that such a record may contain errors, but it is also very fortunate that we have access to this record as it presents firsthand knowledge of some of the individuals discussed in this book. 8 Newcomba€? Cpt.
Sometime before the colonial period, the Iroquoian tribes began moving from the southern plains eastward across the Mississippi River and then northeasterly between the Appalachians and the Ohio River Valley, into the Great Lakes region, then through New York and down the St. Though they were neighbors and had similar skin color, these two groups of Indians were as dissimilar as the French and the Germans in Europe.
Federations, as well as the individual tribes, were fluid organizations to the extent that the sachem was supported as long as he had the strength to maintain his position.
Belonging to a federation meant that an annual tribute had to be sent to support the great sachem and his household, warriors had to be sent if he called for a given number to go to war, and strictest obedience and fidelity was demanded. Some of these federations had as many as thirty member tribes supporting their Great Sachem, although many of these tribes would be counted by more than one sachem, as any tribe that was forced to pay tribute was considered as part of that Great Sachem's federation. Any member of the society who dishonored himself, in anyway, was no longer worthy of the respect of his people.
When viewing the typical Indians of America, one would describe them as having a dark brown skin. They wore relatively little clothing, especially in summer, although the women were usually somewhat more modest than the men.
The English resented the fact that the Indians wouldn't convert to Christianity as soon as the missionaries came among them. The various tribes of New England spoke basically the same language and could understand each other well. There are many words used commonly in our language today that were learned from these New England Indians: Squaw, wigwam, wampum, pow-wow, moccasin, papoose, etc. Today there is little doubt that prior to Columbus's voyage, the Norsemen sailed to the coast of North America early in the eleventh century. We do not have a record of all of the European contact and influence on the Indians in the early years of exploration because the greatest exposure came from the early European fishermen and trappers who kept no records of their adventures, as opposed to the explorers. In 1524, Giovanni da Verrazano wrote the first known description of a continuous voyage up the eastern coast of North America. As the fur trade became increasingly more important to Europeans, they relied heavily on the Indians to do the trapping for them. Another problem with which the Indians had to contend was the White man's diseases for which they had no tolerance nor immunity.
In the spring of 1606, Gorges sent Assacumet and Manida, as guides on a ship with Captain Henry Chalons, to New England to search for a site for a settlement. In 1614, Captain John Smith, who had already been involved in the colony at James Town, Virginia, was again commissioned to take two ships to New England in search of gold, whales or anything else of value.
Dermer wanted to trade with the local Indians of the Wampanoag Federation and asked Squanto if he would guide them and be their interpreter. Derner was given safe passage through Wampanoag land by Massasoit and soon returned to his ship.
When the Pilgrims left England in the Mayflower, their stated intent was to establish a settlement on the mouth of the Hudson River, at the site of present day New York City. The Pilgrims returned to the Mayflower and, after many days of exploration, found a more suitable location.
On March 16, 1621 the Pilgrims were surprised by a tall Indian who walked boldly into the plantation crying out, "Welcome! The Pilgrims gestured for Massasoit to join them in their fort but, he in turn, gestured for them to come to him.
When the amenities were ended, the English brought out a treaty they had prepared in advance, which specified that the Wampanoags would be allies to the English in the event of war with any other peoples and that they would not harm one-another; and that when any Indians came to visit the plantation they would leave their weapons behind.


After the ceremonies were ended, Governor Carver escorted Massasoit to the edge of the settlement and waited there for the safe return of Winslow. Part of Massasoit's willingness to make an alliance with the English must be credited to his weakened condition after suffering from the recent epidemics which left his followers at about half of the strength of his enemies, the Narragansetts.
In June of 1621, about three months after the signing of the treaty, a young boy from the Colony was lost in the woods. When the English could not find the boy, Governor William Bradford, (who replaced John Carver, who died in April) sent to Massasoit for help in locating the boy. That summer Governor Bradford sent Edward Winslow and Stephen Hopkins, with Squanto, to Pokanoket (Massasoit's own tribe, on the peninsula where Bristol, R.I.
From this trip of Winslow's, we learn more about the daily life of the Indians in this area.
Massasoit urged his guests to stay longer but they insisted they must return to Plymouth before the Sabbath. Less than a month following this visit, Massasoit sent Hobomock, a high ranking member of the Wampanoag Council, to Plymouth to act as his ambassador and to aid the Pilgrims in whatever way they needed. Hobomock and Squanto were surprised at what they heard, and quietly withdrew from the camp to Squanto's wigwam but were captured there before they could get to Plymouth.
Although the Narragansetts and Wampanoags were historical enemies and continually feuding over land, they did not usually put hostages of high rank to death.
Normally, treason was punishable by death and Massasoit would certainly have been justified in executing Corbitant for his part in the plot against him but, for some reason, Massasoit complete forgave him.
Their first harvest was not a large one but the Pilgrims were.happy to have anything at all. During the winter, a rivalry developed between Squanto and Hobomock, the two Indians who now lived continually at Plymouth. According to the treaty he had signed with Plymouth, they were to turn over to him any Indians guilty of offense. In June and July, three ships arrived at Plymouth with occupants who expected to be taken in and cared for. In the winter of 1622-23, Governor William Bradford made trips to the various Indian tribes around Cape Cod to buy food to keep the Pilgrims from starvation. Next, Standish went to Cummaquid (Barnstable, MA.) where Iyanough was Sachem of the Mattachee Tribe. Thinking that Massasoit was dead, they went instead to Pocasset, where they sought Corbitant who, they were sure, would succeed Massasoit as the next Great Sachem.
Winslow describes their arrival, where the Indians had gathered so closely that it took some effort to get through the crowd to the Great Sachem. Since the Pow-wow's medicine had not produced any results, Winslow asked permission to try to help the ailing Sachem. Their second Thanksgiving was combined with the wedding celebration of Governor Bradford and Alice Southworth. Because of Massasoit's honored position, more was recorded of him than of other Indians of his time. Massasoit most likely became Sachem of the Pokanokets, and Great Sachem of the Wampanoags, between 1605-1615. The second son of Massasoit was Pometacomet, (alias Pometacom, Metacom, Metacomet, Metacomo or Philip.) Philip was born in 1640, at least 16 years younger than Alexander.
The third son, Sunconewhew, was sent by his Father to learn the white man's ways and to attend school at Harvard.
When his two oldest sons were old enough to marry, Massasoit made the arrangements for them to marry the two daughters of the highly regarded Corbitant, Sachem of the Pocasset tribe. The tribes of Cape Cod, Martha's Vineyard, Nantucket, as well as some of the Nipmuck tribes of central Massachusetts, looked to him for Military defense and leadership.
Following the plagues of 1617, which reduced his nation so drastically and left his greatest enemy, the Narragansetts of Rhode Island, so unaffected, Massasoit was in a weakened position. In 1632, following a battle with the Narragansetts in which he regained the Island of Aquidneck, Massasoit changed his name to Ousamequin (Yellow feather) sometimes spelled Wassamegon, Oosamequen, Ussamequen. In 1637, the English waged an unprovoked war of extermination against the Pequot Federation of Connecticut, which shocked both the Wampanoags and the Narragansetts so much that both Nations wanted to avoid hostilities with the feared English. After hearing of the death of his good friend, Edward Winslow in 1655, Massasoit realized that his generation was passing away. As Massasoit's health began to decline, he turned more and more of the responsibilities over to Alexander who was a very capable leader and who was already leading the warriors on expedition against some of their enemies. Massasoit was succeeded, as Great Sachem, by his son Alexander, assisted by his brother, Philip. The younger generation saw, in Alexander, a strong, new leader who could see the danger of catering to the English. Both Philip and Weetamoo were very vocal in their condemnation of the English and word of their accusations soon reached Plymouth. Together, Philip and Canonchet reasoned that it would take a great deal of preparation for such a war. Still, I was smart - smarter than most white folks down here want a black man to be - and I got my degree.
I started out walking a beat in Algiers, just across the river from the French Quarter, the Vieux Carre. I can’t forget the smell - like gutting time at a Cajun boucherie - the snatches of Voodoo gibberish smeared across the walls in blood. But he didn't tell me where to find the scum that butchered Celie, because something scared him more.
Still, as I floated in and out of tortured dreams, I remembered the look in Ti' Joe's eyes. Despair is like frostbite - at first it just makes everything numb, saves up all the pain like a debt you can't possibly afford to pay.
Teddy LeDoux's place faced out on an alley near Bourbon Street; Teddy liked to pretend every weekend was Mardi Gras. Papa Jean's address led me to the other side of the Intracoastal - the swampy, desolate outskirts of an immigrant slum called Archahaie.
After one of those juice-heads puts you through a wall, you learn to recognize the look… and to fear it.
I stood there, drowning in my own sweat, wondering what the Devil would look like in a dirty black dress.
As soon as the nurse flipped on the lights, I started babbling about Voodoo curses and demon arms. I checked out at the end of the week despite Doc Timmons' protests and caught a cab out to Archahaie.
I came to with the help of Baron Cimiterre's smelling salts: the slaughterhouse stench of blood and bile and exposed viscera.
I lay there, trembling in the borrowed clothes of a dead man, staring into the tunnel that joins the evil we live in and the evil that lives in us. How those businesses take care of those complaints is what separates good businesses from bad businesses. Arizona does not observe daylight savings so the post time may be Mountain or Pacific depending on the time of year.
Like Douglas Adams’ Deep Thought, when answering the question of life, the universe, and everything, he had an answer, but the answer came with another question. He could rule the world with an almost literal iron fist, but he chooses instead to help people. Steve, and Evan talk about the career of animator Don Bluth, looking back on their favorite memories from Bluth’s body of work, and on some of their least favorite work from him, from his work at Disney to his arcade video games to Fievel and The Land Before Time to Titan AE! And don’t forget to check out The Crossover Network for more holiday podcast episodes!
Night’s latest film, which seems to be not just a return to form but a return to passion. He backed off a little bit, and his intent was not to be as controversial as it was made out to be, but it also did provide some fodder for some good conversation. And in this episode, Ben is joined by the surprise first guest of the summer! After guest hosting on the Geekually Yoked podcast to talk about the movie Spirited Away, Ben mentioned to Rachel that he was planning to do an episode about mad Max: Fury Road and a second impromptu podcast discussion was engaged!
In this episode, Ben and Steve talk about the influence Nimoy had on sci-fi, fantasy, and their own fandoms. At first I was very skeptical of this record as it was a family tradition passed down for many generations.
She was very fond of her Grandmother, Freelove, knew all about her and stated on several occasions that Freelove's Mother was Sarah Mauwee, daughter of Joseph Mauwee, Sachem of Choosetown, and not Tabitha Rubbards (Roberts). Massasoit was the Sachem of this tribe, as well as being the Great Sachem over the entire Wampanoag Federation, which consisted of over 30 tribes in central and southeastern Massachusetts, Cape Cod, Martha's Vineyard and Nantucket. Welcome, Englishmen!" It was a cold and windy day, yet this Indian, who introduced himself as Samoset, Sachem of a tribe in Monhegan Island, Maine, wore only moccasins and a fringed loin skin. No, the Devil buys on the layaway plan: he trades you a few sins for this piece, a cheap vice for that one, damns you by scraps and slivers. Their members were mostly refugees from Haiti and Jamaica, with a sprinkling of local talent from the Bayou. We managed to push the psycho bastards back over the river, but we couldn't take the West Bank away from them.
I'm a man who knows violence, friend - I grew up with it, learned to use it on the football field, fought against it on the streets of Algiers. I walked to the seedy parking lot around the corner, already planning the moves in my head. The owner, Jean Ducheval, wasn't exactly a snitch, but he was one of my best sources of information on the Voodoo gangs. He saw the truth: I was not a cop anymore, and I would do anything to get the scum that butchered Celie.
At the end of a dead-end gravel road off of Bourresouse, I found a ramshackle hut that matched Papa Jean's description.
And a heartbeat - a monstrous heartbeat - like a thousand men pounding on the Petro drums….
When she killed the lights the second time, I pinched my eyes shut, tried to swallow the panic.
The cabby - a Haitian - looked like his eyes were going to bug out of his head when I told him where to turn. I was just drifting off to sleep when the door of the room exploded off its hinges and slammed against the opposite wall. Something black and tarry spattered across the walls, the floor, the ceiling, like engine sludge. I could see taloned feet, tree-trunk legs, a body covered with hair that wriggled like carrion worms. My sweet Creole princess, chocolate skin wrapped in a gown of milky white, somber face staring down at me from the top of an ebony cliff. He recognizes his power is a gift, but it is not just a gift for him, and he makes sacrifices everyday to help people who cannot help themselves.


So he’s perfectly willing to create plans to kill every single one of his best friends, even though they ARE friends and he is AGAINST (mostly) killing. She obtained her copy of Zerviah Newcomb's Chronical from Zerviah's original diary, in the hands of Josiah 3rd himself. By the time he holds the pink slip and consigns your sorry ass to Eternal Flame, you don't even know what happened, or how. Made second-team all-American as a sophomore, had the NFL scouts drooling all over themselves. They spread a crazy fever through the streets, more like cults than gangs: Secte Rouge, Cochon Gris, Vinbrindingue, Bissage. The Voodoo gangs packed a higher caliber of fear than I've ever seen - you could feel it crackle in the air all over Algiers, juicing your nerves. The stink of the place nearly made me gag - rotting chicken guts, fermented blood, other smells I couldn't name and didn't want to.
The doc said it was a miracle I hadn't bled to death, said it looked like the wound had been cauterized with a blowtorch.
I figured it was the mambo's idea of a joke, but I parked across from the place and waited. By the time that grinning piece of shit realized he'd lit the wrong fuse, it was too late for all of us. It looked like somebody had painted that whole room with the Cochon Gris and used Vixama's gizzard for a brush. I jerked the Beretta out from under the pillow and pointed it at the doorway, figuring the Gris had found me. He trades you a few sins for this piece, a cheap vice for that one, damns you by scraps and slivers. Superman becomes just another farmer raised in the flyover states with a strong work ethic.
For Superman, he could DO more, but it would involve creating a world that would no longer relate to our own if the storytelling took it to its logical conclusion. Figured I'd go hardship after my junior year, pick up a cool million in signing bonuses, maybe more.
God, she was one fine Creole woman - skin as smooth and sweet as milk chocolate, eyes as wet and wide as Lake Pontchartrain. The rest is lost in fog, except for glimpses that sometimes leap out of the darkness and rip another chunk out of my soul before I can kick them back into the shadows. I also knew he had a punk named Ti' Joe in one of the cages, a street soldier for the Cochon Gris. Teddy gave me a spare key to his place and fumbled through a few awkward words of sympathy before he made his escape. The midday sun beat down so fierce that it boiled clouds of vapor out of the steamy marsh beyond the graveyard… but that place still made me shiver, friend.
It was huge and shapeless and impossibly black - a hole torn out of the daylight straight into the bottom of a Bayou swamp. I slipped out the side exit, tossed the suitcase in the trunk of the Buick, and got out of there as fast as I could. I propped my head on a pillow that smelled like somebody’s old socks and planned my getaway. Something slithered through the doorway where the mambo had been: a featureless blob, black on black. Bearce's Great-aunt, Mary Caroline, lived with Josiah III and Freelove Canfield Bearce for several years, listened to their ancestral stories, and made her own personal copy of Zerviah's diary supplement. Lawrence to what is now known as Lake Champlain where his party killed several Mohawks in a show of European strength and musketry. Then that lard-ass hillbilly tackle blind-sides me in the Georgia game, and my knee is gone. I played hard and clean, never touched a payoff… but if the rules got in the way of a good bust, I bent them.
They even stirred things up in the Quarter… and the Mayor won't stand for anybody screwing with the tourists. Nothing obvious… but good vice cops develop an instinct for trouble, or they become dead vice cops. A street cop sees so much human ugliness that the outer layer of his skin hardens into this armor-plated shell that shields him from the madness he has to wade through every day. I'd broken three of his ribs, shattered his right arm in two places, turned that mocking grin into bloody mush. I sat there with my head in my hands, afraid to move… afraid that I would blow away like smoke. I dug around in the trunk of the Buick and pulled out the Beretta hidden in the spare tire.
He was the blackest black man I’ve ever seen, maybe because I always saw him in baggy white pants, a baggy white pullover, and a battered white fedora. Weird symbols littered the walls, along with newspaper photos of ritual gang murders clipped from the Times-Picayune: Mama Lucille’s shrine to mayhem, New Orleans style. I just wanted out of there, just wanted to put some miles between me and Mama Lucille's Voodoo Kitchen.
The muffled glow of street lamps streamed through the curtains, filled the room with ugly shadows. I had this nightmare vision of my own bloody arm lunging out of the darkness to strangle me, but the place was deserted. A couple of other punks sat behind what looked like an embalming table, counting out stacks of hundred dollar bills from a leather suitcase. The last thing I noticed was the embalming table, the leather suitcase filled with more cash than I would earn in a lifetime.
I couldn't go home, couldn't go to Teddy's - I didn't want to go anyplace the cops or the Gris might find me.
Mama Lucille stood there, wearing the same dirty black dress, leering at me like a sooty skull. I stared into a hole chewed through the skin of the world I knew into a shadow world where demons prowl the savage jungles hunting for wayward souls, where dark magic falls from the sky like poisoned rain. She has a contract with the Secte Rouge to take out the Gris; to take out all the competition, eventually.
Ti' Joe had a private cell, because the Voodoo punks scared the shit out of the regular low-lifes.
On the streets they say the Voodoo punks are immune to fear, but I saw terror in Ti' Joe's eyes. A short, plump mulatto woman with coarse gray hair and a dirty, sweat-stained black dress opened it.
I glanced down at the place where I could feel my phantom arm resting on the bed, burning with invisible fire. I tightened my grip on the Beretta and slipped across the street, followed the casket delivery boys through the side entrance. I drove around until I found a crumbling flophouse between a strip joint and a Cajun diner on Ascon.
What's left will drip down through that black tunnel into the world he sees in nightmares… into a place he doesn't ever want to be. Maybe there's still time for you to buy it back the same way: with one tiny act of penance at a time.
I stuck it in my pocket and steered into the crush of traffic crawling across the bridge into Algiers. Papa Jean was one of the good guys in Algiers: always helping the ones who needed help the most, trying to keep the kids out of trouble. A casket that size could probably hold a hundred kilos of junk, maybe more, worth a king's ransom on the streets.
I saw every nightmare that had ever devoured my sleep - my private horde of horrors snarling and slobbering at the gates of their unnatural habitat. The Voodoo gangs have some nasty magic of their own, but they never think to use it on a crippled ex-cop who can't do shit. A lot of the boys at the Precinct House bought into it, especially the ones who grew up around the Bayou. The righteous part of Lucius Freeman - the part that laughed at Teddy's lame jokes, that slid a few bucks to homeless bums instead of busting them, that made sweet love to his sweet woman after a fourteen-hour shift when he was almost too tired to move - that part just spilled out of the wreckage and turned to dust. The stink of him… denim marinated in sweat, like the fur of some sickly animal, wrapped in the ghostly scent of ganja.
I couldn't go home - couldn't sleep in that house ever again - so Teddy took me in at his place. They had that crazy, invincible glow you see on a junkie's face when he's dropped some PCP. The crematorium would give the Gris an easy way to dispose of enemies - the parts they didn't eat. If I could waste Vixama - the mastermind behind most of the horror in Algiers - that would be revenge enough. Before they know different, they wind up looking like a spilled vat of bloody gumbo - Mama's special recipe.
New Orleans doesn't just sing, friend: it jitters and jives and wails like a wild animal that can't be caged.
That night, I huddled on Teddy's lumpy couch and suffered through nightmares that refused to end… nightmares that would never end. I paid for the room with a twenty, pretended not to notice while the clerk stared at my vacant sleeve. The siren in my head screaming now, but my heart thumping louder, pounding out one frantic thought.
The Cochon Gris had stolen everything: my wife and my job, the two things I loved in this world.
I felt, I heard the brittle crack of bone, the sharp twang of snapping sinews, the meaty rip of muscle tearing like soggy paper. I figured I'd stop by the house in the morning and pick up my passport, then take a drive out to Moisant and catch a flight to Mexico City. She laughed while it crushed the life out of her, cackled while it plucked off her arms and legs like the wings off a mutant moth.
The stolen arm of the loa wrapped me in a tentacle of fire, lifted me above the bed, hurled me across the room. He further told them that Massasoit, the Great Sachem of the Wampanoags, was at Nemasket (a distance of about 15 miles) with many of his Counselors.



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Category: Getting Ex Girlfriend Back



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