The secret to a healthy relationship is to never go to sleep angry.

Never go to sleep.

That's when they can get you.

Do meth together.

WHO SAID THAT?

They can hear your thoughts

Did she take your meth? She's laughing at you.

Finish the meth. She was going to take it.

YOU FEEL AMAZING.

FIGHT THAT HORSE!

The horse is hard and hollow sounding. Your hand hurts. There is blood everywhere. Is it yours? It is. This time. Thank God.

You feel warmth. More blood?

Urine.

She's sleeping. That's when they get you.

As we approach St. Patrick's day, the diminutive demons that are so ubiquitous around that time of year start to come out from their lairs and make themselves known in the land of humans.

Friends, just this morning I found myself face to waist with a goddamn fiendish leprechaun!

My morning started just like any other.

I climbed out of my bed of garlic and quickly closed the lid before the monster loving proprietors of the Italian restaurant gave me trouble.

I made it another night with my blood inside me. Where it belongs.

I wasn't hungry, thanks to the wasteful patrons of the restaurant, but I thought I would go to the grocery store to check on the monster peril and also use their bathroom.

I decided to take a lap around the store before doing my business in the bathroom. Make sure there were no unearthly beings hiding in plain sight.

As I turned onto my favorite aisle to look at the pictures of pregnant women on the boxes of baby formula, I saw him.

His stubby fingers straining for a box of cereal that might as well have been a million miles away.

I silently moved directly to his 6 and watched.

His Lord Satan had blessed him with many things.

Sharp teeth for tearing human flesh, beady eyes for spotting prey at night, a gigantic member to tempt human women, and a cunning mind.

The Lord Satan giveth and the Lord Satan taketh away.

He had not been blessed with height.

As I watched him struggle to reach the box of Kix, I let out an almost inaudible chuckle.

He spun around in a flash.

"What's your fucking problem buddy? You think this is funny?"

"I do. I think you should have spent a little of that gold from your pot to buy some stilts"

"Oh we got a comedian. Fuck you buddy. I don't need this shit today."

He didn't know it, but I had exactly what he needed. What the world needed.

I felt inside my jacket for my special monster dispatching claw hammer.

Yes sir. Now THIS was "kid tested and mother approved".

Maybe not mother approved, but definitely kid tested.

I'd wait for him to shit out some of the baby meat he almost certainly had in his belly.

I went to the bathroom and waited. Might as well wipe myself down with wet paper towels while I was there, as is my usual routine.

After I finished my normal routine and wet paper towels covered the floor, I heard it.

The unmistakable pitter patter of little feet.

The stall door next to mine opened and closed. He dropped his pants (though I would consider anything he owns "shorts") and from under the partition, I saw his tiny feet dangling from toilet.

Now was my time.

I peered over the stall divider and watched as he strained to pass the toddler meat he had gorged on recently.

It infuriated me. This monster was eating toddlers and then shopping amongst us.

Shoulda shopped for a helmet.

I left my stall and KICKED his door!

[BAM!]

"Jesus Christ! Someone's in here!"

[BAM!]

"Hey! Someone's in here!"

[BAM!]

"What's wrong with you? Use another stall!"

[BAM!]

The door flew open.

"You? Listen buddy I don't want any..."

"Save it for Darby O'Gill"

"What? Who's..."

And with that I brought my enchanted hammer down on his helmetless skull. Again and again until the leprechaun was just a pile of digested toddler meat and splinters of bone.

I picked up some of the wet paper towels and wiped myself down before walking back into the grocery store.

I glanced at the enticing bottles of formula out of the corner of my eye, but I would have to stare at them for 6 hours straight another time.

Now I needed to return to the safety of my garlic infused home before the corrupt police would question me about offing one of their benefactors.

When I got home, I saw one of the minions of Zito's Authentic Ristorante putting a lock on my home.

"Hey man, I'm sorry but you can't sleep in the dumpster. It's dangerous."

"What's that accent? Do I detect a hint of Transylvania?"

I felt for my hammer.

Friends, I wish I could tell you some happy news, but once again I found myself tangling with the minions of the devil.

This morning I was driving the car that I had just liberated from a vampire. He could have just flown, I don't see why he insisted on tempting fate and calling attention to himself in a sporty 1997 Dodge Neon outside of the antique shop.

But one thing was for sure, that goddamn vamp was gonna get his wooden chest sooner than expected.

After ridding the world of one more pathetic vampire, I thought it would be a shame to let such a fine automobile go to waste, especially since my shopping cart had lost one of it's wheels in a valiant struggle against a Frankenstein.

Imagine how many cans I could fit in this new mighty steed, and I would finally have something to use all of my gasoline for, other than the cheeky nip every now and again.

Yessir, this would do just fine. But first I needed to clean all of the vampire juice out of the seats, cup holders, and floorboards.

In my haste, I foolishly brought it to the closest car washery I could find, which ended up putting me face to face with another of the devil's most actionable advocate, a goddamn witch!

I turned the steering wheel into the parking lot, as you do, and pulled up to the attendant.

"Just the interior, pardner"

"Sure, leave it here and we'll get to it in a moment"

I left it there and went inside to wait.

After what seemed like an eternity of me staring at the side of the gal's face next to me, a woman came into the waiting room and asked to speak with me.

Now friend, I don't have to tell you how to spot a witch, you just know. Their long nose, pointed chin and telltale hat is usually all you need.

But sometimes these witches get clever and change their hat to a baseball cap, or even a cowboy hat. I don't know who the hell they think they are fooling, but I can see RIGHT through it!

This goddamn broomstick pilot had the guts to come up to me and ask ME why my car was full of blood.

Well sir, I don't have to tell you that I don't take kindly to that kind of accusation coming from a cauldron cooker.

She mentioned that she noticed the picture on the dashboard of two men in tuxedos and asked if one of them was the source of the blood.

Figures, that vamp I dispatched must have been sinning against his every chance he got.

"They are my friends"

The words left a foul taste in my mouth. Imagine being friends with a coupla gay vamps.

KEEP IT ABOVE THE SHOULDER, DRAC!

Still, I could tell that this eye of newt needer was not gonna let it go.

"Let me see what you mean"

And with that, I followed her out to the car.

"See? It's just absolutely full of blood. I think I might have to report th..."

Not today you fucking spell casting siren.

In a flash, I pulled out my witch killing hammer and put an end to this long nosed demon.

I quickly put her in the passenger seat and sped away.

Hahaha now I've got an even bigger problem!

Isn't that always the way?

Oh boy, those pigeons I shout at are gonna get a kick outta this one.

I drove the neon for a little bit longer with my new passenger before deciding that I should dump it.

I can't be explaining to the police the finer details of recognizing a witch, and besides, I was looking forward to a nice glass of gasoline and coke when I got home.

Friends, I had foolishly thought that the stories of witches were only that. Stories.

What happened to me today shook me to my very core.

I was feeding the monsters I keep locked in my basement for experiments and one of them mentioned that he was a chef.

I remember now, he was pretending to be a human chef at one of those snooty restaurants. I knew he was a monster when he asked me to put out my cigar at the table.

Everyone knows that monsters hate cigar smoke, but apparently monsters don't know not to throw the trash out by themselves at night.

Anyway, this dumb monster with realistic human blood had begged me for food. I had been conducting an experiment to determine how much cat litter a monster could eat and learning quite a bit.

Mainly that if monsters eat cat litter, they die.

That's good science right there.

Anyway, this gourmet ghoul begged me for real food. Sobbing and sniffling like a real bitch.

I told him that I would go out and find something for him. I had been wanting to do an experiment with sand anyway.

So I put on my name tag and went out to the Walmart.

"Hello, Chief Bigdick, do you need another 3 large bags of kitty litter?"

Friends, did you know that you can get anything you want printed on a name tag? And people have to call you that, it's the damn law.

"No Ted, I think I'll take some sand today."

"Great, I'll bring it by. Just a second."

As..I wanna say...Tad(?) waddled off like a cowpoke who had been poked himself a bit too much, I walked over to the pet section so I could taunt the fish by breathing.

The employees used to be less diligent and I was able to submerge the hamsters in the fish tank, and take the fish out of the water. Of course I was trying to stoke resentment amongst the animals who watched their brethren perish while the other animals did nothing but watch them die.

But alas, they had beefed up security significantly in the way of padlocks on all of the animal cages.

Still, I hoped that I could remind the fish of the foolish way their friends gasped for air while literally surrounded by it and it would incite a full-blown interspecies war.

Plus I needed something to do while I waited for Tim to bring the sand.

Just then I saw it. A frail old woman with a shopping cart full of toilet paper.

She must be having some gastrointestinal issues after eating delicious children!

Now brother, I don't have to tell you that I can't abide a witch eating children.

I got close enough to peer into her cart and what I saw sealed the deal. In addition to her toilet paper, she also had pretzel flavored Goldfish crackers, which suck and immediately knew she must be buying them to throw people off her trail.

As luck would have it, she turned into the pet department. My hunting ground.

I had foolishly left my pantleg stake at home, since I was trying to get some sun on my thighs via the new hotpants I had recently gotten from Wish.

Though my thighs looked fantastic, my vanity had left me ill prepared to dispatch of the creature before me.

It was at that moment that all of the animals began to simultaneously wink at me.

I caught their message and knew what I had to do.

It turned out that the padlock wasn't as secure as Masterlock would have you believe.

It only took me a few short minutes to violently bash my way into the aquarium, which of course caught the witch's attention.

She foolishly came over to see what was the source of the ruckus and I IMMEDIATELY SUBMERGED her head under the water.

The fish swam about delightedly.

My previous training had taught them to relish in the death of surface dwellers.

The witch thrashed about with such strength that I was happy to realize that what the lock lacked in security, it made up for in being heavy and hard.

I struck the witch's head over and over until the fish were breathing her blood.

If fish could get boners, I bet that would have done it.

I often think about how the world would be different if fish could get boners, but the ichthyologists I spoke to insist that it would cause too much drag.

Eventually, the witch's thrashing subsided and I left her to be discovered by someone who would probably write a stern letter to Masterlock.

I would have to take my leave and get the sand another time.

I hope Tep wouldn't mind.

The monsters would have a familiar meal tonight, but of course I would tell them it's sand like they asked for.

Friends, I thought I had seen the last of those foul demons that yearn for my end, but today proved otherwise.

I got up this morning like any other morning and screamed at the sun to let those fucking sleeping vampires know they had missed their chance to make a tasty snack of me.

After a lengthy discussion with my neighbors about what constitutes a noise violation, I put my gesturing gun away and went out to Walmart.

Now brother, you don't have to be a monster hunter to know that monsters love any place that tasty humans will congregate, and pardner it was like a buffet of delicious slow moving red blooded Americans.

My cart was already full of donuts, donut holes, and glue, and I was on my way home to do the Lord's work when I felt something.

A nudge from behind.

The way a shark will bump into you to see how you taste before devouring you.

In a flash I spun around to see a goddamn fucking CYCLOPS sitting in one of those motorized scooters!

Getting pretty lazy aren't we, you monocular monster?

His hair was shock white and he looked as if he was poured into the chair. His fat hands were clutching the steering wheel which brought our worlds together.

Where his left eye should be, he had a goddamn piece of cloth tied around his head with elastic so that the average non monster hunter wouldn't notice he was a cyclops.

"Excuse me" he said and smiled, all the while trying to hide his man ripping fangs.

He hid them well.

He knew I was onto him and he would scout out a less street wise victim.

Well sir, I couldn't let that happen. No sir, this monster was going straight to hell, and I mean TODAY.

I followed him at a safe distance, first to the pharmacy, where he got a cornucopia of medications. I guess eating people ain't so healthy.

Then he went to the greeting card section a bought a 50th wedding anniversary card.

Better put "Hell" on the return address, pal.

Finally he took his little death mobile into the bathroom where I assume he would be sharpening his fangs in private. I wouldn't let him get that chance.

He went into a stall and prepared to do his evil work. I knew that it was now or never.

I KICKED OPEN THE DOOR!

He was sitting on the toilet with his pants around his ankles and a strange bag of a yellow liquid strapped to the inner part of his thigh. Probably some sort of Cyclops juice. I didn't have time to ask.

I've got you now, you fucking monster.

"Excuse me, this stall is occupied"

"You've occupied our world for long enough, monster"

"I'm sorry?"

"I bet you are"

I raised the crossbow, which I had just purchased but failed to mention earlier in the story, and pointed it straight at this quivering mess of a cyclops.

"Son you don't have to..."

And with that I let the bolt fly. Crossbow bolt and monster face met in an instant.

The bolt won.

This pitiful sack of monster leaked all over the damn floor, and brother, I wasn't going to stick around to let his cyclops juice ruin my New Balance 835s. I finally got those the perfect shade of green after mowing the lawn IN THE SUN, THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

I closed the bathroom stall and left that pathetic monster to be found by some grateful custodian.

As I was about to leave the crypt I had just created, I looked in this son of a bitch's basket.

Just as I suspected. Not a single loaf of bread.

I'm sure he had enough at home from grinding up human bones.

I strolled out to my car to find a goddamn Frankenstein dressed as a police officer leaving a ticket on my car.

I quickly dispatched him with a hammer and then drove home where I would enjoy the safety of daylight in a hammock with some tea and a nice turkey sandwich on WHEAT bread.

You're 1,000 miles away from civilization.

The fierce cold bites at your nose and makes every step a struggle.

A pack of wolves stumbled onto your scent and has been tracking you for days now.

Who knows how many days, they blur together in a fog of perseverance.

Just then, over the hill you see it.

A lone brown speck of a house in the middle of unending white.

And there's smoke coming out of the chimney.

You stumble down the hill, in a daze.

You clench your frozen hand into a fist and club the door weakly then collapse.

You hear the door squeak open and feel yourself being dragged into the warmth.

You wake up in a bed. You have no idea how long you've been asleep.

Days? Weeks?

Judging by how much you've defacated in the bed it looks like it's been several weeks.

In the other room you hear someone moving around.

"He... hello?"

"Oh hi, you're up!"

A woman with big rosy cheeks fills the doorframe.

"How are you feeling dear?"

"Much better ma'am, thank you. I'm s... sorry about the mess"

[You motion to the feces caked linens]

"No honey don't apologize for that. That was me!"

"It was...what?"

"Oh yes, I've been shitting on you while you slept. It's a compulsion of mine. It's why I've been banished to the middle of nowhere"

"You're..."

"Exactly, I'm Sally Shittington, I can shit through a screendoor at 20 paces"

"It's an honor ma'am. I've heard tell of you from the old folks. Is it true that you once shat out crude rollerskates and shitskated through the park, ruining everyone's outdoor lunches?"

"It certainly is true, son. Say, what's your name?

"Ebenezer Trump, ma'am. And may I just say that I think you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

"Let's have babies and pass down your intestinal gifts to them"

"Yes, hopefully nothing happens where the shit would come out of our grandchildren's mouths or anything. Just out the butt, you know, normal style."

Perfect, then it's settled. Let's make love to each other in this shit covered bed and continue the esteemed Trump family line"

"Sounds good to me, but first be a dear and pass me some of that shit"

"Put your hands up, this is a robbery"

"No, that's a gun"

"...ok that was a pretty good one."

"See Rebecca? He thinks I'm funny"

"Yeah, Rebecca it was a pretty good one.

"Hey...do you wanna get out of here?"

"I'd like that"

[Montage of us sharing milkshakes, robbing banks, pushing each other on a swing, executing bank managers, and having food fights]

[Flash forward to 30 years later]

"...And that's how I met your grandfather"

Our eyes met across the lake and I marveled at her roller skating technique.

The way she glided so gracefully, like a warm breeze or a pleasant thought.

Like an angel.

She saw me too. I felt her gaze on me as I skated.

I became hyper aware of my movements, trying to match her grace while also trying to appear as effortless as her.

It was no use. I couldn't match her elegance, but what I lacked in that, I made up for in volume.

Specifically the volume of my voice.

I had been pushing my body to become louder.

Over the course of months, I had gone from a man of average vocal strength to a man the neighbors recognized by my booming "I'M SHOWERING" and "I'M GOING TO SLEEP" announcements.

As we moved towards each other, I felt the swelling in my chest grow.

I knew we were about to meet face to face and I became even more aware of the way I was skating.

In a moment of hubris, I began skating backwards and announced to everyone that I was doing so.

While my roller skating was sub-par, I could tell that my shouting had impressed her.

She matched my enthusiasm by whipping her hair in a circle as if it was a keratin propeller pushing her forward.

Impressive.

I had become entranced by her method of travel and in a moment of carelessness I fell backwards into a giant pile of writhing bodies.

It was a mass of slithering broken limbs and rollerskates.

The moans.

Christ the moans.

So many of the men had already died and yet so many weren't yet that lucky.

As I layed there, trying to move my legs but finding them to have the composition of a bag of sand, I felt another body crash into us.

Some of the men under me had finally met their fate.

I turned my head to the side and heard the bones in my neck shift over each other like dice.

From this position, I could see her.

Graceful as ever.

She was leading another man to what would be his final resting place.

We made eye contact.

She looked beautiful.

The worst was behind us.

My muscles ached with each step, but they were steps that brought us closer to the safety of our fortress.

Along the way we had lost men.

Good men.

But they taken some of our enemy to hell with them.

I couldn't remember when I had lost my sword, but now my only weapon was a metal staff that was stained with the blood of my foes.

A man who asked us to call him "Skeeter" had joined our group and regaled us with legends of a land filled with the magic crystals we all sought.

The crystals gave life force and and an almost superhuman amount of energy to whoever injested it.

Pain was but a memory with these crystals.

At times the crystals were all one could think about.

These magical crystals seemed to call to us as we set on this journey and pulled us along through violent deadly interactions with those who greedily sought to possess them.

Our first night started out as a bloodless endeavor, but any semblance of a plan gets thrown out after first contact with the enemy.

We met up with the protectors of the crystal at a predetermined location long held to be a sacred place.

We had agreed to purchase the crystals for a nominal sum, which we had procured after selling some of our household wares.

However, the peddler of crystals betrayed us and requested more coin than we had become accustomed to.

He, completely unreasonable to negotiations, had to be dispatched.

I brought down my mighty rod of justice upon his devious scalp and watched life leak from his stunned eyes.

In an instant, I grabbed the crystals and took off running to the safety of my fortress. Safe from those who would steal the crystals from me.

I had only gone a few steps when I ran face to face into my first foe.

A man who runs the local market stopped me.

"Hey, you can't be in here. I've told you and your crackhead friends to stay out of my bathroo..."

My staff again snuffed out a life.

After using the market's lavatory to gain energy from the magical crystals, I was back on the road.

I was immediately filled with a euphoria that only comes from experiencing the one true God in crystal form. As I left the market I quickly grabbed a day's worth of rations. Small pieces of unleavened bread, heavily spiced to taste like their exotic counterparts. I had some that tasted like tacos from the South, the famed barbecue of the Americas, and a pleasing "Cool Ranch" hailing from an unknown origin.

However, I would not get to enjoy the refreshing cool nor the ranch. As I left, I encountered the most vile man. A man purported to keep the peace in our village, though most of his time was spent haranguing worshippers of the sacred crystals and forcing us to trade our freedom for "blowsex".

"Cricket what the fuck did you do this time? Jesus Fucking Christ Cricket, that magical mouth of yours ain't gonna help you with this one. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck."

He raised his enchanted weapon just as my compatriot settled behind him and plunged a driver of screws under his armor.

The wicked man fell and I grabbed his enchanted weapon.

The power of the weapon combined with the crystals was like God himself guiding my hand.

I lowered the weapon over the treacherous man's face squeezed the lever until his face was no more.

My compatriot and I consummated our act on top of the now dead man while enjoying the crystals together. He had, after all, helped me and thus deserved some of the crystals.

The problem arose when he began to enjoy too much of them and had to be eliminated with a nearby block of cinder.

The life of a traveling adventurer is not an easy one and at times, one must make difficult decisions, we all knew this when we set out to claim the crystals. Now was not a time to get sentimental.

Now was a time to enjoy the crystals.

At last, I reached my fortress, cleverly situated under a bridge, so that I could reach either side with ease.

I hunkered down for the night and cleaned the blood of my enemies off of my piece of rebar.

Tomorrow is another day, and I shall require more crystals.