Quaraun The Insane: Volume 9 or 21
The Jiggler & The G-String Teddy Bears

The Jiggler & The G-String Teddy Bears: Chapter 1

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By Wendy C Allen
eelkat_red_scarf.jpgWendy Christine Allen, 2019, able to sit up in a chair for the first time in years, and able to raise up my arm and wiggle fingers. This was when I started playing Witcher 3 on Twitch as part of my physical therapy to regain finger movement. Playing Witcher 3 daily from 2016 to 2019, is how I regained the use of my thumb and two for fingers on my right hand... it is also why I stopped playing Witcher 3 in 2019, once I had strengthen my two forefingers enough to start typing again.

Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer

Counting Down to the September 23, 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978)

If you are here looking for The Twighlight Manor series, The Crystonite Wars series, The Wild Years series, The White Rock Asylum for the Criminally Insane series, The Twisted Tales series, the Captured By a MerMan series, The Space Dock 13 series, The Kats of Planet Ptarmagin series, the stories about Miss Citten the Eel-Kat, or the stories about Etiole... ALL of those series were combined and consolidated into The Adventures of Quaraun the Insane Pink Necromancer series in 2014, so ALL the different series, are now under one series title.

List of the published titles still in print:

The Index of over three thousand stories in The Pink Necromancer series

What the series is about, for those new here:

The introduction to The Pink Necromancer Series. 

If you want some stories to get you started in The Pink Necromancer series, reading these first will give you a good introduction to the 3 main characters:

My Elves Are JellyFish...and I asked Google AI and ChatGPT 5.6 what they thought of this.

As requested, my daily writing prompt series is now available print paperback editions on Amazon.

There are 20 volumes of this writing prompt series currently planned and in varying stages of finishing, hopefully all 20 will be published by the end of 2026. I likely will do a 2nd series of writing prompt books in 2027.

The first of the Visual Novels/Video Games for The Adventures of Quaraun the Inane/The Pink Necromancer series is published and available on Itch.io, there are 3 more planned for release in 2026, 6 more planned for release in 2027, and the big 60-hour 80k word 150 page one (Quaraun Goes To the Fair) is planned for a 2028 release.

There is a Pink Necromancer card game and a Pink Necromancer board game, as well as a Pink Necromancer table top RPG supliment for Dungeons and Dragons, all in the works, and to be released over the next couple of years as well.

Health update: August 4, 2026 - in recovery for 6 months+ (at least until mid-January 2027...all book and video game releases are pushed back at least 6 months) see video below for why...
@eelkat

health update #maine #disabilityawareness #wheelchairlife #wheelchairvlogger #multiplesclerosis

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
@eelkat Health update: #chickenpox #bellspalsy #RamsayHuntsyndrome #paralysis #recovery ♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
@eelkat

I seem to have had another stroke (during the night while I was asleep?) #stroke #paralysis

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

Update Sept 3, 2026:

I am able to get around enough to take Koko to dog park... today is 29 days since getting out of hospital. My diet is still mostly liquid, but im eating some solid food again, but its like rice or soft mushy baby food type stuff because I still can not chew yet, though I can swallow again. My jaw is still not functioning good so im having trouble talking still. So there's been slight improvement to my mouth, throat, and jaw, but, zero improvement to my eye, which is a major concern, be Im almost fully blind right now. im legally blind since birth in my left eye, so I have no ability to fall back on using my left eye. My right eye is the one injured and my vision in it is "40% decreased" according to my doctor, but it wasn't good vision to begin with, and right now my right eye is not much different from my legally blind left eye. Which I why I have to have someone drive my car for me instead of me driving my car myself right now, which is very frustrating, because, being a female, I had to fight for over twenty years to be allowed to drive. I started sneaking out at age 31 and dressing as a man to go to Old Orchard Beach high school to get a ged, because us females are not allowed to go to school. And i was 37 years old when snuck out to the DMV and got a driver's permit and started going to college. I was 42 and 8 months pregnant when my family found out I was going to college and thats when I was punished by the backhoe driving over my house and my spine broken with a golf club and my baby born right then and killed with same golf club. So it's very frustrating now, so soon after finally being able to drive , to now not be able to drive because of an eye injury, especially after 14 years of being paralyzed from the golf club and not being allowed to have a wheelchair, again, because i am female and we females are simply not allowed to do anything. I hate the culture I was born into. I wish I had the freedom to go to school and drive a car the way American women do. I wish having my spine broken with a golf club and my baby killed with a golf club and a backhoe driven over my house was not how men in my family punishment women in my family for learning to read and write. Its so frustrating not being able to to drive again, so soon after 14 years being paralyzed, and being paralyzed by the golf club was the punishment for getting a driver's license back in 2013 after 30 years of men not letting me have one. I hate my family's culture and how they treat us women.

I get so sick of Americans telling me how they wish they could be a Gypsy… they are either misogynist woman hating pigs, or delusional idiots who haven't got a clue how shittily we Gypsy women are treated by Gypsy men, because no one in their righ mind who knows anything about Gypsy culture would ever want to be part of it. I hate that I was born a Gypsy. 

update sept 7, 2026

"You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me?

I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking.

So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me.

see video below for more information: 


@eelkat "You would not make a good teacher"... what does that mean, and why are there so many people on Railroad Ave and Western Ave and Cutts St why walk up to me and say that to me? I find it very confusing. I have low functioning Autism (the Rain Man type) and so i have very little understanding of words beyond the basic ones, and i never went to to school, so I never learned maths or sciences, and I only had remedial classes at Southern Maine Community College, because I did not have an education to enroll with regular, I was there taking every reading and writing class they had to learn how to read and write, and also took speaking classes to learn how to talk (i spoke Shetland Scottish language because that was language my grandmother spoke but she died when I was 8 so I only knew that language to speak and write, and I was 37 when I went to college and 42 when I learned English speaking and I still cant speak English good yet), all the other classes I took were art painting and cooking. So the phrase "You would not make a good teacher" makes no sense to me because it seems to imply that I am trying to be a teacher, but I don't have anything close to the education ti be a teacher, and im not trying to be a teacher. So I don't know why people keep saying this phrase to me and I assume it must have some sort of a slang meaning, but I can't figure out what it could be of why do these people keep saying it to me. #mainelife #biddefordmaine #maine #disabilitytiktok #Biddeford ♬ original sound Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author

update Sept 15, 2026:

I have some slight movement in some my fingers again again after over a decade being paralyzed

you remember how I used to be a professional doll making, pattern designer, and embroiderer, back before I became paralized and before my son was murdered and being the backhoe drove over my house?

all my equipment, sewing machines, ect were all destroyed by the backhoe driving over my house, and I have been quardepelegic for over a decade because of it so could not use my hands to sew or draw or embroider, and so only continued to do my writing of novels since then because I could do that with dragon dictation software,

well, since 2016, I been playing Witcher 3 and don't starve video games on twitch livestream, one hand two fingers, as part of my therapy to regain nerve and muscle use of my fingers, and now after 10 years of that, I have somewhat more movement in my fingers and im thinking maybe I can try to do embroidery and doll making again, but not sure, anyways, now im rebuying all of my sewing and embroidery equipment that the backhoe destroyed when it drove over my house, and hopefully I can use my hand enough to embroider again.

waiting for stuff to arrive in mail, so soon I should find out if ten years of twitch gaming has given me enough muscle strength to use my fingers to embroider again.

update to the previous video, answering viewer question about lack of hospital vs broken spine

Wheelchair Fundraiser... I need to upgrade to a power wheelchair, the manual one just isn't enough anymore. But the power wheelchair is $25k. Yes, twenty five thousand dollars. Wtf? I can get a car for a quarter that price, why are wheelchairs so damned expensive? That's more money then I make in five years, so I need to start a fundraiser for it.

The Jiggler & The G-String Teddy Bears
Free Sample Excerpt From The Novel

The Jiggler & The G-String Teddy Bears
Chapter 1

We interrupt our regularly scheduled story to bring you: BATDUDE!


Our story begins in the 1960s, somewhere in America. No one is really sure where, though according to one H.P.Lovecraft Arkam Asylum was in Massachusetts, and presumably, BatDude and PigeonPoopBoy had escaped them there, claiming to be off to save the world from the Dastardly green haired Jiggler, a critic hating author, whom had just published a novel about teddy bears, and was currently pacing through his mansion, wearing nothing but a purple sequined g-string and bemoaning the 52 negative reviews his book had received.

"Holy Gourda, BatDude, what is it?" 

"I don't know, Pigeon Poop Boy, but I think it's a teddy bear."

"Batdude, you don't mean to say The Jiggler is animating teddy bears for minions now do you?"

"I'm afraid that's what it looks like Pigeon Poop Boy."

"Holy hand grenades, BatDude what was that!"

"It's was a book bomb, Pigeon Poop Boy. That teddy bear thinks we're literary critics!"

BatDude was a human, a man in a black and purple leather bird costume. His companion Pigeon Poop Boy was also human. He was wearing a blue leotard with grey feathers glued to it.  

~o0o~

Meanwhile...back in the 1400s, where we were supposed to be to begin with...in a quiet Human village on the outskirts of Quebec... a tired transvestite Elf wearing a pink sequined ball gown, wrapped in a pink turkey feather boa, and travelling with two undead Faeries, one a vampire leprechaun and the other a Lich Phooka, had decided to rest for the night at a small tavern. The trio of non-Humans found a secluded booth in the back of the building and tried not to draw attention to themselves. This however, did not last long, as the bored and hyperactive Phooka, began teasing the tired, and cranky Elf.... 

~o0o~ 

"STOP IT!" Quaraun screamed, as he pulled away from Unicorn and kicked the Phooka in the face, sending the Phooka, and the table he'd been sitting under, flying across the room. FarDarrig sat, holding his drink, and wishing he'd also been holding his bottle, as it was now shattered on the floor along with their meals.

"Did you really have to do that," FarDarrig ask the angry Elf.

"I don't want him doing that in public," Quaraun snarled, as he sunk back into the bench seat and closed his eyes.

"Yis in the back booth of a seedy tavern, slunk away in a dark corner," FarDarrig answered. "I don't think any one was gonna notice or care if ya let him suck you off in public or not."

Quaraun opened one eye and glared at the Leprechaun.

"You make me get my wand out and I'm gonna blow you up in so many pieces, Unicorn won't be able to rebuild you."

"There's nothing worse then a bitchy, whinny assed Necromancer," the undead Leprechaun muttered.

"Not when you're undead, and both of you are," Quaraun answered.

Quaraun closed his eye again.

Unicorn stood up, with both hands over his nose.

"You okay?" FarDarrig asked the Phooka.

"I t'inks him done gone broke me nose," Unicorn said.

"I thought you were a Lich?"

"I is a Lich."

"Then how can you suffer from a broken anything?"

"Just because I does resurrect every time him lose him temper un kills me, does no mean I does no gets hurt. How ya t'inks I can die so often? I is Lich, aye. All that means is no matter how many times ya kills me, I always get back up. I does no stay dead. I can still get hurtified. I can still bleeds. Look! I is bleeding now! I can still has broken bones in me body. How ya t'inks I die iffy I does no get hurt?"

Unicorn picked up the table and tossed it back in it's proper place that sat down on top of it, cross legged and staring intently at Quaraun, who still had his eyes closed and was trying to ignore everything going on around him so he could get some much needed sleep.

Quaraun sensed Unicorn's gaze opened his eyes once again and stared at the undead creature, sitting on the table staring down at him.

"What are you doing?" the sleepy Moon Elf asked.

"I is waiting for ya to falls to sleep sos I can rape ya."

"Of course you are. Why didn't I think of that?"

Quaraun sat back up straight and called a bar maid to bring him more wine.

"I shall drug it," Unicorn said.

"Here! Be my guest."

Quaraun handed his mug to the Phooka.

"I could use some colour in my life," he continued. "This place is dull and dreary."

"You know," FarDarrig said. "A stranger would think you two hated each other."

"Meaning?" Quaraun asked.

"Meaning you just kicked him in the face and now he's sitting there happily pouring whatever the hell that is, into your wine."

Quaraun looked from FarDarrig back to Unicorn and watched the Faerie dumping white powder into his drink. The Phooka handed the mug back to the Elf. Quaraun stared at it for a moment, looked back up at Unicorn, then took the mug and drank it's contents.

"I don't seem to care," Quaraun said to FarDarrig as he put the mug back on the table.

"I can't believe you just drank that."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"He's a Phooka, you have any idea what kind of side effects Phookan drugs have on Elves?"

"Of course I do. I live with him. He drugs me all the time. I'm used to it."

"It really doesn't bother you?"

"I just told you I don't care."

"Why not?"

"Have you ever seen how big his cock is?"

"Measuring his cock wasn't something I ever planned to do, no."

"And he has two of them."

"Two?"

"He doesn't brag to being a double dicked unicorn for nothing."

"Why does he have two dicks?" FarDarrig turned to Unicorn. "Why do you have two dicks? You didn't used to have two dicks."

Unicorn pointed to Quaraun.

"He did it. Him evil wizard wid sick mind. Him one day make wish I could double stuff him. I now have two dicks. Him did grant him own wish. Though I is no complaining. Me does like having two dicks. One for each hand, when they is not in him."

"Why are we talking about dicks?" FarDarrig asked.

"Because," Quaraun answered. "You wanted to know why I let him drug me. He's horny out of his mind right now. Only getting hornier by the minute. I ain't got no strength in me. I'm weak, I'm tired. I can't fight him off, when I'm awake and good health. Sooner or later, prob'ly within the next few minutes, both his dicks are going to be in me, and I'd rather not be able to feel the pain when he does it."

"He's about to rape you and you're about to let him."

"He doesn't rape me, FarDarrig. He never does. He never has."

"No?"

"No."

"That's not what I'm hearing."

"Well then, you ain't listening."

"I am. I'm listening to a weak, sick, tired, injured Elf complaining that he wants to sleep and he knows he's going get ass fucked the moment he tries to, so he's taking drugs beforehand sos it won't hurt as much when it happens. That doesn't sound like you being a willing participant in his fucking you, and that therefore is rape."

"It's not rape."

"How do you come to that conclusion?"

"Because if I really didn't want it happening, I would unLichify him and drop his rotted corpse off in the nearest graveyard. I never said he couldn't fuck me, I like it when he fucks me, he fucks me every damned day. I just said I didn't want it to hurt when it happened. He's more then welcome to take whatever pleasure he wants out of me, I'd just like to not feel like I'm being split in half while he does it. He's not exactly gentle. He does tend to just dive into me like an axe splitting a log. Then he just keeps right on pounding into me. And he doesn't stop when I pass out. I wouldn't be at all surprised if when I finally died, I die from him fucking me to death....WHAT?"

Quaraun stopped talking to glare at the bar maid who was standing, jaw dropped listening to what he'd been saying.

"Uhm...I..." the girl didn't know what to say. She was still trying to comprehend how it was one male could fuck another male.

"I pay you to bring me food and drink," Quaraun snarled at her. "Not eavesdrop on my private conversations."

"Uhm..." 

The girl was staring wide eyed at the Elf. It was scary enough for her to have to serve non-Humans. She and the other girls had drawn straws to see who it was would have to wait on the Elf and his two Fae friends. She'd gotten the short end of the stick and was none too pleased. Elves were practically extinct, Faeries were seen so rarely that most people joked they were never real to begin with. No one in the village had ever seen a non-Human before and so half the village was in the tavern just now, trying to get a glimpse of the strange trio resting here. Two of the three being wizards didn't help the issue any, not when the Guild had a nasty habit of killing every resident of every village that opened it's doors to wizards, and worse then just wizards was Necromancers, and here was not just any Necromancer, but the dreaded Pink Necromancer himself, and everyone knew the Pink Necromancer traveller with a Lich, the fierce Elf Eater of Pepper Valley himself, an undead creature that laid waste to any village who refused to let him in. Here was the Pink Necromancer and the Elf Eater, both standing inches in front of her, arguing about their sex lives, and the poor girl was having all she could do not to have a heart attack just then. 

Quaraun rammed his finger onto the center of the table.

"Put my food on the table and leave," he ordered. "Go back to what ever the hell it is you Humans do."

The girl quickly tossed the platter on the table beside Unicorn, then scurried away, back to the bar where the other girls were gathered, whispering about the arrival of the dreaded Pink Necromancer in their town.

"Humans," Quaraun muttered to himself in the most disgusted tone he could muster. "Scum of the Earth. Nothing but a parasitic plague of over sized lice. Why must we be forced to exist along side such filth?"

"Ya know," Unicorn pointed out. "If ya would fuck a few females once in a while, Elves would no be dying out so fast."

"And where do you suggest I find a female Elf to fuck? I'm the last damned Moon Elf on the planet, or have you forgotten that?"

"Plenty of females here for ya to fuck," Unicorn said, pointing to the bar maids and not looking at Quaraun.

FarDarrig grabbed all the bottles off the table, slunk down out of his chair and went to the next table.

"What?" Unicorn asked FarDarrig, still not paying attention to Quaraun. He looked around the room. The Humans were all squished back against the wall, staring in his direction in terror.

Unicorn turned back to Quaraun. "Ohhh."

Quaraun was now standing up, one hand one the table, the other gripping his Rainbow Wand pointed inches from Unicorn's nose, blazing fury of pure hatred raging through his eyes. Small sparks of lightening zapped from the wand, and shimmered over Quaraun making any eerie glowing blow aura around him.

"How... dare... you suggest I consort with HUMANS!" The angry Necromancer roared. "There's too many of them as it is, without my helping to create even more of them. The last thing this world needs is Half Elf mongrels running in it! There's already too many Elves ploughing their seed in the wretches scum of Human filth!"

"Weeell," Unicorn said, sliding back away from the aim of the Necromancer's wand. "Maybe ya should had thunk of that before losing ya temper an killin' every one in ya village. Then ya'd still have yarself so pure blood Moon Elf bitches to fuck."

"They deserved to die and you know it."

"Does I?" Unicorn carefully reached over and pulled the wand out of Quaraun's hand, and tried shaking it to turn it off.

"They killed YOU."

"I commit suicide, Quaraun. Ya used it as an excise to kill every one who every pissed ya off."

"You died."

"And ya did gone an resurrect me. Now I's a Lich. How do ya turns this t'ing off?"

Quaraun sighed and sat back down. He watched Unicorn fumble with the wand. 

"Gimie that, before you blow this whole town up."

Quaraun grabbed the wand and stuffed it back in his pink beaded heart shaped bag of holding. Then he looked around at the crowd of a dozen or so Humans that were gathered around their table.

"Oh go jump off a cliff," Quaraun growled to them. 

None of them moved. Most of them looked too scared to move.

"I t'ink they is ready to shit their pants," Unicorn laughed.

"Can't say as I blame 'em," FarDarrig said from the other table. "Got a high strung Necromancer over there."

"Why are you staring at me?" Quaraun asked the nearest Human.

"Your ears..." the man said.

Quaraun twitched his foot long ears, causing the many silver rings and chains, connecting from them to his nose, to tinkle.

"What is wrong with my ears?"

"Well, I always heard Elves had pointy ears, but..."

"But what?"

"Begging ya pardon, sir, but you look like a rabbit. And you're white as a ghost. Milk isn't as white as you. And your hair..."

"You don't like my hair?"

"There ain't no women never had hair as long as yours. You're like that woman what got herself locked in the tower."

"Rapunzel?"

"That's the one."

"Always is."

"Do all Elves dress like you?"

"No," Quaraun said sarcastically. "I'm pretending to be a prostitute."

"Oooh, I see." The man nodded, not realizing Quaraun was making fun of his ignorance.

Quaraun laid his head on the table.

"Whhhhhy are Humans soooo stuuuuuupid?" He moaned into the tablecloth. He sat back up and turned to the Human. "I am a Wizard of the DiJinn Order. This is how we dress. I'm a priest. These are the robes of our order. Do you know nothing of the DiJinn?"

"Genies are those wish granting wizards ain't they? Grant wishes for people. Like how you gave him two dicks, right?" The Human answered brightly, proud of the fact that he knew what the wizard was talking about, while pointing to Unicorn.

Quaraun turned to Unicorn.

"Why did I give you two dicks?"

"Ya was drunk," Unicorn said. "And high on poppies. And wanted a horse's dick stuffed up ya ass. Twice. At the same time."

"You know I don't remember any of that, right?"

"I knows. Sooner or later I'lls figure a way to get me horn up their same time as both me dicks."

Quaraun was about to yell at the Phooka but a Human interrupted him.

"Can I touch your ears," the Human asked, growing bolder as he took a few steps closer to Quaraun.

"NO!" The Elf shouted, causing all the Humans to jump back.

He stood there looking around the room at them.

"Have you really never seen an Elf before? None of you?"

They all shook their heads and muttered various version of "no".

Quaraun shook his head sadly.

"There used to be a time when people were surprised to see a Moon Elf, now every one is surprised just to see an Elf at all, of any type. What is the world coming to?"

"I tolds ya," Unicorn said. "Ya gotta give up on yar purity t'ing. Gotta start fucking every female ya sees, whiles ya still young enough to get it up. Ain't many males Elves left. Ya don't start repopulating, there soon won't be no Elves at all. Yis an olde Elf and ya ain't getting no younger. There be a whole bevy of females right over there. This crowd so scared of Elves, ain't no one here gonna stop ya.  At this point even half Elves is better then no Elves."

Quaraun glared at Unicorn, but said nothing. He was feeling woozy just then. The drug Unicorn had dumped in his wine was starting to take effect.

Quaraun was trying to think of an answer to Unicorn, as well as think of a way to getting the crowd of Humans to go back to what they were doing allowing him and his friends to rest from their travels in peace, when the air around them was interrupted by an earth shattering

27,706 / 50,000 words.
85/ 160 pages.
Draft @ 55.41%
Last updated on
March 13, 2015

KA-BOOOM!

A giant hole opened in the ceiling, the sky from another world could be seen over head.

Two masked Humans, one dressed as a bat, the other dressed as a bird, came tumbling out. Followed by two life sized teddy bears.

"Holy Gourda, BatDude, what is it?" Cried the young bird boy.

"I don't know, Pigeon Poop Boy," answered the bat. "But I think it's a teddy bear."

"Batdude, you don't mean to say The Jiggler is animating teddy bears for minions now do you?"

"I'm afraid that's what it looks like Pigeon Poop Boy."

"Holy hand grenades, BatDude what was that!"

"It's was a book bomb, Pigeon Poop Boy. That teddy bear thinks we're literary critics!"

BatDude was a human, a man in a black and purple leather bird costume. His companion Pigeon Poop Boy was also human. He was wearing a blue leotard with grey feathers glued to it. The two Humans from the future, dressed in bird costumes, ran around the tavern chasing the life sized teddy bears, that continued to tumble out of the portal.

Quaraun stared at the scene that was unfolding before him, as BatDude and PigeonPoopBoy rolled out of the blue sparking portal, into the tavern, battling a pair of g-string wearing teddy bears.

"What the hell did you put in my drink?" Quaraun asked Unicorn.

"Whatever it was, it didn't cause that," FarDarrig said. "Because I see it too."

"I give up," Quaraun said. "Where's my food. Humans are crazy. They're all crazy."

Quaraun reached for the platter the girl had left and set out to eating every thing on it and completely ignoring BatDude, PigeonPoopBoy and the giant animetronic teddy bears.

The conversation between the daringly dressed duo was eagerly watched by the black haired, black eyed, black clad Phooka, sitting in the corner with his friends, a transvestite albino Moon Elf dressed head to toe in pink sequins and a Vampire Leprechaun dressed in a brown leather outfit dyed with blood.

A small bomb went off on the other side of the tavern opposite where Quaraun, Unicorn, and FarDarrig were eating their dinner. Unicorn jumped nervously at the commotion, but Quaraun continued eating as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He had actively decided the entire thing was a hallucination and refused to acknowledge it was happening. FarDarrig was too busying pouring blood on his coat and rubbing it into the leather to notice anything that was going on at all.

"Quaraun?" Unicorn learned over and whispered into the Elf's ear. "There is a teddy bear named Freddy throwing bombs shaped like books at a couple of guys in bird suits. They all seemed to have just suddenly appeared there from out of no where."

Quaraun looked up and watched the three characters as they ran back and forth through the tavern, throwing things at one another.

"Yes, I had noticed." 

The pink clad Necromancer went back to eating.

"Should we help them?"

"No, they seem to be tearing the tavern apart just fine on their own."

"Ah. Yes. No. That's not quite what I meant."

"I know what you meant. But I don't particularly want to end up paying for the damages, and whenever we get involved in a tavern brawl, that does always seem to be what happens. Beside, I'd get my new dress dirty."

"Is that a new one?"

"Yes. It is." 

"I can never tell. All yar dresses look the same to me. I ain't never seen any pink cloth like this at any marketplace we visited, and can'na imagine where ya would have found a new dress." 

"Yes. It's new. I made it, while I was spending the last several weeks in bed, while the two of you stayed down stairs drinking and I was laid up in bed."

"Ya drinks just as much as we does."

"I drink because I'm in pain. You two are both undead. You ain't got no reason to drink."

"Ya does not approve of my drinking?"

"I don't approve of the belching contests you have with FarDarrig."

"Ah, well, let's put something in ya drink, then. Make ya feel happy and then I can fuck ya silly."

Unicorn dumped more powder in Quaraun's drink.

"Will you stop drugging my food!"

"Why? Ya knows ya gonna go ahead and drinks it anyways. Ya like the drugs as much as they likes ya, eh?"

"Yes." 

A teddy bear ran by, with two Humans in bird costumes chasing after it.

The blue boy stopped running and stared at Quaraun.

"Holy pink flamingos, BatDude, look at that dress that prostitute is wearing!"

"Can't look now, Pigeon Poop Boy, I got a teddy bear to catch." BatDude called out from across the room.

Quaraun watched BatDude and Pigeon Poop Boy as they chased the teddy bear.

"I'm not even high yet and I'm already seeing weird things." 

Quaraun took the second drugged drink and drank it without farther argument.

"I thought ya didna want me drugging ya drink?" Unicorn asked.

Quaraun opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get a chance to say anything.

"That is some pink dress," Pigeon Poop Boy yelled as they ran by again.

It was a very pink dress. And covered in big poufy pink marabou feathers. Quaraun loved pink. Pink was the only color he would wear. Every one of his dresses was bright bubblegum pink with magenta hearts embroidered and beaded onto it. Unicorn couldn't tell one dress from another.

FarDarrig, seeing that Quaraun had calmed down, toddled back over to the Elf's table.

“Where do ye keep gittin' thems ,eh?” FarDarrig asked. 

He had never seen anything like them anywhere either. Of course his preference was for blood oiled leather, not pink silk. 

"I'm a tailor in addition to being a wizard. I make them. And I did just say that. FarDarrig it's still morning. Are you already drunk?"

"Ah. Where do ye finds dah time , an between primpin' yous hair un' looking for trouble ,eh? "

Unicorn looked back and forth from the albino Elf with the bum length hair, wearing way too much garish make-up, and head to toe sparkling like a pink disco ball, sitting to his right, and the tiny four foot eight inch tall thousand year old undead Leprechaun in his leather trench coat, frock coat, waist coat, knee breeches and tall pointy hat all dyed a deep brownish red from blood, sitting to his left. Then he looked out at the two costumed Humans chasing teddy bears around the room.

"I feel positively normal today," Unicorn said. "All I be wearing is trapper furs."

Unicorn didn't look normal at all, but in his black furs and skins, he blended in better with the locals at least, even though the Phooka's waist length black hair didn't look like it had seen a brush in the last 700 years.

Unicorn picked his mug up off the table...

CRASH!

Their table shattered between them, as the Human wearing a blue unitard with grey feathers glued all over it, landed in their plates.

"Sorry, ma'am," Pigeon Poop Boy said hastily to Quaraun, as he scrambled back to his feet and ran back to help his friend battle the renegade teddy bear.

"Good thing I picked up me mug and good thing ya already drank ya poison." 

FarDarrig stared down at the shattered bottles on the floor, He had just put them back on the table.

"There is food on me," Quaraun said, his temper only thinly veiled.

"Oooooh! They got food on ya new dress," Unicorn sat still holding his mug, but looking somewhat horrified at the fact that Quaraun was about to lose his temper. 

"There is food in my hair," Quaraun sputtered.

"Aye."

"There is food on my pink Thullid silk."

"Aye."

"Who did that?"

"It were the teddy bear," Unicorn said.

Quaraun glared angry daggers at the teddy bear.

Unicorn repeated his question. "Ya want to help them now?" 

"Yes. I do."

Quaraun stood up, pulled out his wand, and aimed it at the teddy bear. 

"You got food on my dress, you frigging bastard! DIE!"

A blinding burst of blue light filled the room, followed by a loud POUF as the teddy bear exploded into a pile of fur and fluff.

Every Human in the room was once again pressed back against the farthest walls they could get to, all staring in terror at the angry wizard.

"We need a new a table and new meals," the albino transvestite Necromancer said the a barmaid as he strode over to the remains of the teddy bear.

"Holy guacamole, BatDude, that pink whore is a wizard!" Exclaimed the lad in the grey feathered, blue unitard.

Quaraun looked up at the daringly dressed duo. 

"I'm a Necromancer, and you two owe me and my companions dinner."

"Necromancer?" Said BatDude. "But you're wearing pink?"

"And you're wearing patent leather bat wings," retorted the whiter then white Moon Elf.

"You're a man, aren't you," BatDude asked the transvestite.

"I'm an Elf."

"But you're male?"

"Of course I am."

"Holy bull shit, BatDude, that dude's a dude!"

"I should feed you to my Unicorn," Quaraun snarled to Pigeon Poop Boy.

"Aren't Necromancers supposed to wear black and be all spooky, lurking in shadows and such?" asked BatDude. "...like your friend there, he looks like a necromancer, you look like a prostitute."

"He's a Lich. And you look like an S&M dominatrix. All you need is a whip."

"Well that's better then looking like a prostitute, isn't it?"

Quaraun sighed, rolled his eyes and stomped back over to the new table where Unicorn and FarDarrig were sitting waiting for him.

"Ya know," stated Unicorn as Quaraun sat down beside him. "If ya don't want people mistaking ya for a woman, ya shouldn't wear those pretty frilly, feathery pink dresses and all that tormy-loin jewelry...

"Tourmaline."

"...and makeup and earrings and nose rings and finger rings and go around batting those long fake feather eyelashes and sit around brushing yar sexy silky, silver hair for 3 hours every morning so it looks all slinky and shiny like that...and damn it, now I want to fucks ya again."

Quaraun glanced down at Unicorn's bulging cock. "You know, I have never meet anyone who gets as horny as you do, as often as you do."

"No, all I has to do is looks at ya, that's all it takes. I can'na think of anything more seductive then a man who looks like woman..."

"I'm an Elf."

"...who looks like a prostitute just waiting to get his tight little pearly white ass fucked twenty times a day."

"Don't you dare try to fuck me 20 times in one day. You'll kill me!"

"Pretty little man-Elf-woman-whore like ya, ya're already girly looking without even trying. Then ya go out of yar way to make yarself look like a slut, with thems tasty banana and kiwis swinging down there between yar creamy white legs. Ya's a lovely fruit salad."

"You have a fruit cake for a brain."

"And I is with ya all day long, so yeah, of course I freaking horny all day long. Why would I not be, I mean look at ya, yar sexy as a shepherd's pie. I want to eat ya.  I could just eat ya up right now. FarDarrig order me a shepherd's pie before I bite Quaraun and drain every last drop of blood out of his sexy little carcass."

"I think I should be scared of you," Quaraun said dryly.

The Elf Eater nodded. 

"Oh, ya should. Ya should. Ya is tasty. Ya should be absolutely terrified of me, what with all the things I can think of to do to ya. For instance, ya want to know what I'm thinking right now?"

"Not especially."

“I kin tells ye what he’s tinkin',” replied the mind reading vampire Leprechaun wearing a leather trenchcoat soaked in fresh blood.

"Please don't," said Quaraun.

FarDarrig ignored him and kept on talking: “He 'twould just love to tie ye down to dah table right here, right nows an' fuck ye an front of every body ovah an' ovah an' ovah again. Dat yon dair do be what he be tinkin' about ye right nows.” 

Quaraun glared at Unicorn. "Yeah, don't try that."

"Hey! I dids no say it, him did!" Phooka pointed at the short old man.

"No! But you’re the one thinking it, that’s how come he said it. You are NOT going to fuck me on a table in a tavern, in front of everybody!"

"Oh, no, I will na, not while ya still got that wand in yar hand, at least. Do'na want to look like that deady Freddy teddy bear over there. Though the things I can think of to do with that wand..."

"Ach gawd," complained FarDarrig. "Will ye quit tinkin'! Turn yer brain off or somethin'. Ye poor Álfr. The things he’s ah gonna do to ye if he evir gets ye unconscious.” 

"You mean with the wand? Yeah, he's already done that. A few times. I've kind of gotten used to waking up and not knowing what the hell he's done to me and wondering why my wand is shoved up my dick."

Unicorn was grinning and nodding. 

"Penis torture is wonderful and him loves it as much as I love doing it tos him."

"I pity you FarDarrig," Quaraun continued. "Having to see every thought that goes through his perverted head."

“Well, bad as he be, Quaraun . Yon stuff going on an Unicorn’s heid, it ’s nae half as wicked bad as some of dah thoughts dat yon dair go through yer head,” FarDarrig replied. “AH dinnae ’t knows hows AH bide with dah twa of ye, with out be'an tree sheets to dah wind 24 hours ah day. it ’s nay believable dah things dah two of ye tink aboots. Especially what yous be tinkin' about eetch uddah. AH ’ll tells ye ane thingy Gwallmaic, dinnae ’t ye go believing heem when he says ‘Nay ’ to ye. Yon Álfr ’s jeets as much of ah pervert as ye be. He be wanting ye to tie heem down to dah table an' fuck him right at dis point an time .”

Unicorn burst out laughing. "Oh, I know that! I did has been with him long enough to know what he wants."

Quaraun glared at FarDarrig and was about to say something, but was interrupted when BatDude and Pigeon Poop Boy both sat down at their table.

"I'm sorry," growled Quaraun. "Did I invited you to sit down?"

"No," answered BatDude. "But you did mention we owed you dinner and that's sort of the same thing."

"Ooooh, look, he wants to buy us dinner. How romantic," Unicorn crooned as he leaned over close to Quaraun and began rubbing his arm. "Ya think this table's big enough for them to bring out all the plates for all of us while I fuck ya on it at the same time?"

He reached under the table slipped his hand inside Quaraun's pink silk robes and began fondling the Elf's already erect cock.

"Is he..." BatDude started the ask Quaraun, while staring at the black eyed Faerie.

"Yes. He is. Ignore him," answered Quaraun.

"Are you ignoring him?"

"With great difficulty."

"Like hell yar are," FarDarrig said to Quaraun, then turned to BatDude. "Whatever ya what to say to him, say it fast. They is about 10 second from stripping each other naked, right here in front of every body."






How I Came To Write The Jiggler & The G-String Teddy Bears

The series was renumbered. This is no longer volume 9.

Volume 35: The Jiggler & The G-String Teddy Bears

Joined once again by FarDarrig, Quaraun and Unicorn stop at a Human village to rest for the night, and find they can't get to the end of their meal without interruption. Three attempts to order dinner later, they are again interrupted, this time by a portal opening up and tossing a pair of caped crusader actors from a 1960s TV show and a very real pole dancing super villain, into their plates.

Before they get a chance to find out who the costumed super heroes are, armies of  murderous animatronic teddy bears start dropping from the sky spreading chaos throughout the village.

Seeing that they've somehow been zapped to the 1400s and landed in the plate of an angry Pink Necromancer, BatDude and Pigeon Poop Boy, quickly explain that a book critic has lashed out at a former super villain, turned pole dancing author, and in retaliation the super villain author has sent an army of teddy bears to kill all book review bloggers. The caped crusaders enlist in Quaraun's help to defeat the Jiggler before his teddy bears destroy the world.

Unfortunately (for the daring duo and book bloggers everywhere) Quaraun finds himself sexually attracted to the green haired, g-string wearing porn star and switches sides. With the teddy bears now joined by Quaraun's undead army of pink turkeys, Quebec is completely turned into utter chaos.

Jealous, Unicorn helps the masked crusaders get rid of the Jiggler, just so he can have Quaraun to himself again. To do so, the candy making Lich decides to fight fire with fire and turns himself into a pink flamingo then creates his own army of penis saluting, greatfully dead dancing rainbow gummy bears.

Chapter 1: BatDude & Pigeon Poop Boy


Teddy Bears On Parade


A Bowl of Fruit Salad


Flamingos, Tentacles, Tea, and Crumpets


Things You May Not Have Known About
The Jiggler & The G-String Teddy Bears

As crazy as it may sound, this novel was actually based off a true story.

Once upon a time there was an author who wrote a detective murder mystery, which featured the main character as a teddy bear. Someone committed the sin of giving his novel a glowing 4-star review.

In a week long massive melt down that made self publishing history, the author created dozens of accounts, each one being a different teddy bear from his novel, and lashed out with his army of teddy bears at the book critic, for only giving him a measly little 4 star review instead of granting him the 5 star review he deserved.

I wrote this novel based entirely off his wild, deranged comments in the review, which you can read for yourself here.

This novel was originally written on: 2013

This page last updated on: March 30, 2017

On Writing The Quaraun Series



Articles For Writers on How To Write & Publish A Rapid Release  Series

Want to write like I do? You want this page:

Writing Mindset Shift & Lester Dent vs Kishotenketsu

w/Thoughts on Being one of Dr. Lindstrom's 200 PenPal Students (NaNoWriMo & NovNov 2025)


plus

Polyamory Beyond Fetish: Writing Multi-Partner Relationships

and

Writing Blind Characters

Plus

Elves and Very High, High Elves 

VS

Unicorns and Phookas and Demons

and also

What exactly makes an Elf an Elf?
(What is the definition of an Elf?)

but

Noses, Penis Piercings, And Rapunzel Hair

and

Need Help Defeating Overpowered Fantasy Wizards?

+

Wizards and More Wizards

and Even More Wizards

and Still More wizards

and

MAKE VILLAINS EVIL AGAIN: A WRITER’S BATTLE CRY TO RECLAIM THE DARK SIDE

Have you ever considered:

How Things In Your Life Affect Your Writing

or

Currency In Worldbuilding

and

The Dangers of World Travel

or 

Dragging a Body Through The Snow

and

Talking While Falling Asleep

or

Worldbuilding MoonQuakes and Disabled Characters for Fantasy Writers

or

I have everything but the kitchen sink...
wait, how'd that kitchen sink get in my pocket?

Writing Absurdist Fantasy Books

but

How long does it take to reach 1667 words? and 50k in one day - is it possible?

plus

What is the average typing speed?

plus

What (self-publishing) platform pays the most (for books)? My top 3 picks. Comparing my results from different places.


and

Knowing what to include when describing the surroundings of a scene

also

Validation Is a Cult

and

Open Strong, Stay Loud

and 

Where are the writers who love writing?

plus

Self-Publishing Success: Does Anyone Ever Succeed at Self-Publishing?

and

Where To Get Writing Ideas?

and

Writing What You Know Might Not Be What You Think It Is

and

Why I do not attend writing groups...are they all like this or just the ones in Maine?

but also

Don't Forget To Just Write 

because Yes, You Can!

Plus

The Park Bench Method of Writing (with 10k writing prompt list)

or

The Park Bench Method of Writing (just the article)

plus:

How did you build your audience?
Not online, that's for sure.
aka How to sell ten million books
aka How I sold ten million books.

Need Writing Prompts?

Conversations with ChatGPT on the art of writing

The Park Bench Method of Writing








While there are around 20k pages on this website, most of them are blocked from search engines, with only around 800 of them available for appearing in Google/Bing/etc search results. The remainder can only be accessed via the various links found throughout this site. This was done deliberately on my part, and I did it because the bulk of the pages on this website are chapters from 138 novels and 423 novellas, so only the first page of each novel and novella indexed by search engines, and the remainder are linked in order, one page at a time, via clicking "next page" at the end of each. So if you are looking for a specific page from a specific novel, Google can't help you.



Thank you for stopping by and have a nice day! ꧁✨🌸🔮🦄🔮🌸✨꧂

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Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻
eelkat_red_scarf.jpg

Wheelchair Fundraiser

@eelkat

i just found out there is yet another bizarre rumour going around. where are these wild rumours coming from? who is starting them? and why?

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author
@eelkat

since I've been flooded with hundreds of messages the past two weeks asking if I still own "the world's most haunted car", yes, and here it is, filmed today May 18, 2026… but my son Xavier is dead, i am crippled and given that people are AGAIN showing up calling my Dodge "haunted", calling my friend "an alien", calling me "transgender", and spreading wild defamation slander connecting me to Stephen King, I think I need to start taking down the contact information of every blogger, podcaster, youtuber, and social media account spreading these rumors, and sue every single one of them for CAUSING my car to be cut in half May 10, 2010, for CAUSING the backhoe that drove over my house August 8, 2013, for CAUSING my son's murder November 14, 2013, for CAUSING me to be crippled and in a wheelchair November 14, 2013, and for CONTINUING to CAUSE harassers to show up in person to harass me near daily, STILL now in 2026. EVERYONE telling you my car is haunted, telling you my friend is an alien, calling my car "the goldeneagle", calling my friend "Etiole", or trying to connect me or my car to Stephen King, is lying to you. They crippled me when I was 8 months pregnant, and a woman with a golf club, severed my spine and bashed my baby's head in, I spent 9 years relearning to walk, and the FBI is 13 years into the murder investigation and not yet identified the attacker who crippled me and killed my baby, both violently with a golf club and the FBI believes that it is friends and family of the woman who did it, are the ones who started and spread the rumors saying my car is haunted, saying I'm an alien abductee, saying all kinds of similar bs about aliens, ufos, ghosts, witchcraft, demons, and Stephen King connections, even though I don't believe in ghosts, aliens, ufos, demons, and had never heard of Stephen King before 30k of his fans showed up in my yard trying to find my car! FBI believes the backhoe driver and the murderer are the same person and it is a developer who wanted my land and so started the Stephen King, ghost, and alien rumors all in an attempt to drive me off my land, and when it didn't work they drove a backhoe over my house, and when that didn't work they crippled me and killed my son. Why are they doing this? How do I get them to stop?

♬ original sound - Wendy C Allen | 📚 Author






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Get an email whenever Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻 publishes on Medium.

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Do you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Avenue, Old Orchard Beach, Maine on August 8, 2013? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.

My house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son on November 14, 2013 at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me July 26, 2016 at scarborough WalMart,... they arrived the first time with a backhoe on August 8, 2013, that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since....

... which means it is now only a few weeks from the 14th anniversary of my son's murder. I was 8 month pregnant November 14, 2013, and a student ay SMCC, and coming out of the Buglight Lighthouse art studio after art class, when a still unidentifiedwoman wielding a golf club attacked me, severed my spine, while I was 8 months pregnant, triggered early labour, then killed my son minutes after he was born.

While accusing me of being transgender, screaming "transvestite freak" and "look at that thing, that's Ken's son in a dress"... while I was 8 months pregnant.

eelkats_house_before_after.jpgMy house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine, July 4, 2013, photo taken because we had just finished building a baby room on the back. vs My house August 8, 2013, when the same group of people (yes group, the golf club woman was not alone when she attacked November 14, 2013, nor was she alone with her second attack July 2016.) who murdered my son and crippled me, arrived the first time with a backhoe that they used to drive over my house, during a time of day that I normally was home asleep... I had to work a different shift at the Waffle Cone Pizza Food Truck at George's Parking Lot by Bill's Pizza at the OBB Peir, that day, otherwise, I too would be at the bottom of a landfill, along with my house and everything I owned that was also in the house. I was 5 months pregnant at the time and have been homeless for just under 14 years, homeless ever since.

The backhoe driver returned November 14, 2013, armed with a golf club, used it to break my spine and smash my baby's brains out on the ground

On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. I was 8 months pregnant, leaving my college classroom, and just getting into my car, when 3 strangers, a man and two women, armed with golf clubs leapt out from behind my car screaming "kill or be killed, kill the transvestite freaks, kill them all before they kill us! look at that thing! That is Ken's son, look at how it's dressed! kill the transvestite freaks! kill or be killed"... while the bald man and the red haired woman chanted this over and over, the blonde woman, lunged with the golf club.

She severed my spine, I am now a quadriplegic, and been paralyzed arms and legs, and in a wheelchair for 13 years now. She broke my hips, my knees, my legs, ruptured most of my discs, and shattered three of my vertebrae so bad that the shards of bone acted like glass and embedded themselves into my spinal column nerve bundle.

The attack also triggered labour.

My son was born in that parking lot, and he lived only a couple of minutes, before the deranged blonde woman, beat his head in and smashed his brains out, with the same golfclub she had just used to sever my spine and leave me crippled for the rest of my life.

Realizing that I was not transgender, and they'd just murdered a baby, the man grabbed the 2 women and forcibly dragged them away to a 4 door white pickup truck, and they left me there to die.

The FBI told me later, that a few weeks before this attack, and transwoman, had murdered a cis woman, in a parking lot, abou 20 miles away from where I was attacked. The FBI, believes that my attackers, had somehow found out I wrote transgender fiction, connecting my real name to my penname, (my father's name is in fact "Ken", and I do have a brother) and believed that I wrote transgender fiction, because I was myself transgender, even though I'm not transgender. The FBI, believes the attackers, thought I was my brother, pretending to be a woman.

The FBI investigation, into my son's murder, has dragged on for 13 years, and still now in 2026, continues on, with the FBI, still not having yet identified my attackers, and only guessing at what their motive was.

Thus we come to 2014, and the full swing change of the series I write. WHY my series, went from just a transman main character living life, to the full blown Mpreg genre series that it now is today.

Before the attack, I had a chance of having a baby. I don't know. And because I'm in America, I'm too old to adopt. You have to be under 45 years old to adopt a baby. That is the law in America. I was informed this, when we tried to adopt, now that my injuries leave me unable to get pregnant a 9th time.

Thus began my obsessively writing, my transman main character, pregnant. Always pregnant now. Every time. Every story. Stories that now fully focus on pregnancy, labour, miscarriages, babies dying, babies living, raising babies... the whole series, since 2014 has devolved into an outright baby obsession.

Meanwhile, reborn baby dolls were suggested to me by my therapist, and have also become a deeply obsessive part of my life. Because 13 years ago my son was murdered minutes after he was born, because a transphobic bigot mistook me for being transgender, I'm STILL in a wheelchair, struggling to relearn to use my arms and legs, now 13 years later, and I'm still DAILY dealing with police officers and FBI agents who while they are trying to find my son's killer, they are also daily reminding me... oh, yeah, my son was murdered, literally ripped out of my belly, by a transphobe. Who still has not been located and walks free to kill again.

The golfclub woman as she looked during the golf club attack at Southern Maine community college November 14, 2013. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026.

Clairescreenshot.pngIf you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322

The golfclub woman as she looked during the shopping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart July 26, 2016. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026.

zzzz999ClaireRed2016-screenshotIf you have any information about the identity of this child murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322

The 2nd woman as she looked at both attacks, her hair goes all the way down to her knees. She is about 20 to 30 years older then me and would be around 75 to 85 years old now in 2026.

Kendrascreenshot.pngIf you have any information about the identity of this child murderer's accomplice, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322

Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.

I am a legally blind quadriplegic, and low verbal, I have also published 138 novels in the last 48 years. It's not as impossible as people think. The problem being blind and quadriplegic, medically have different meanings then how those two words are used medically.

Fewer than 3% of all blind people see nothing. While 97% people who are classified as fully blind are able to see up to two feet in front of them. Legally blind means I can see more then two feet in front of me but not far enough to see twenty feet in front of me. In my case I can see about eight feet.

Quadriplegic, has varying levels, it means having a damaged nerve bundle in the spinal column causing limited mobility of all 4 limbs, (in my case this was done by a women wielding a golf club, who also beat my 8 month infant's head to pulp on the parking lot tarmak, at the same time she severed my spine with the same golf club; both on November 14, 2013; the FBI investigation into my son's murder and my being crippled has gone on now for 13 years, a few weeks away from 14 years now, and the FBI has still not identified the killer or her motive). Contrary to popular misconception, quadriplegic does NOT mean ZERO movement, it means means limited movement, specifically in means unable to lift arms over head, unable to grip fingers around objects to pick them up, and unable to stand for more then 5 minutes to a time. Because there are so many thousands of nerves in each limb it is actually very rare for there to be 100% no movement, but how much, and to what extent varies by patent depending upon the specific point of injury to the spinal column.

Meaning typing is still possible for over 60% of all quadriplegics.

In my case, it was the lower spine that was severed, cutting off completly my ability to move my right leg, leaving limited feeling in my left leg, and an ability to stand but not walk, with crutches, for the first 9 years. I regained enough nerve growth in my legs by the 9th year to be able to take ten or twelve steps allowing me to get out of bed for the first time since the golf club attack; This in turn lead to me being able to start using a wheelchair, as I was able to sit upright for the first time as well.

Because the shattered vertebrae bone fragments are broken off completly and embedded into the nerve bundle just above my tailbone, doctors were saying I would never walk again, but now at 13 years, I am able to push mu wheelchair like a walker, a distance of almost a thousand steps a day. Though doctors are still doubtful I will ever walk "normally" again, I have proven them wrong, when their said 13 years ago, that I would never walk again at all.

But because of the placement of the damage to my spine, regaining hand use, was always thought possible, it was just a matter of waiting long enough for nerve regrowth, along side daily finger exercises. I was able to continue writing, after becoming quadriplegic, because I still have use of my right thumb, and 2 fore figures of my right hand. And can type 90 words per minute with those 3 fingers.

I however have no wrist strength, elbow strength, or shoulder strength, so I am not able to form a fist, or lift objects, or brush my hair, or my teeth, all thing I have to have my caretaker do. But, those things are not needed for typing. Unfortunately, my pinky and ring fingers are "nerve dead" and drag over the keyboard, and cause horrific spelling errors and typos, which are incredibly frustrating to deal with.

Unfortunately trying to edit errors myself, just makes the errors worse, because those same two fingers drag over the keyboard yet again. Prior to the golf club attack, I rarely had spelling errors; now I got more spelling errors then someone is learning English as second language. Editing is a challenge, that I've had to accept, I simply can not do myself, and I have to hire several editors to help with that.

Low verbal means sounds can still be made, sounds that software programs like Dragon can be trained to recognize and translate, and type into full words. More then half my novels were typed with this method.

I still have a long ways to go before I am anything close to being able to do the things I could do before the golf club woman beat my baby's brains out and shattered my spine. And you know what's more frustrating then how slow mu medical progression has been? The fact that it's been 13 years and the police and FBI are still coming up at dead ends as to who the woman who murdered my baby was, or why she even did it.

My son's 14th birthday is only a few weeks away, but he didn't even get to live long enough to celebrate his 1st birthday, I don't even know why. And I can't wait to regain my ability to walk again, because regaining my ability to walk, means gaining the ability to go outside and start looking for my son's murderer myself instead of sitting at home trapped in a wheelchair waiting for the police and FBI to to find her. So, writing isn't a big priority for me anymore. I only write now, as a way to exercise my hands, in between relearning to walk.

Never let a disability stop you. Plenty of writers, artists, athletes, do not let either blindness, speech impediments, or limited mobility hold then back from perusing their careers.

Do you know who these two woman who crippled me and murdered my baby, at Southern Maine Community College at 10PM on November 14, 2013, are, and what their connection to the backhoe that drove over my house is? If you have any information, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.

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