Counting Down to the 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978)
Happy 2026!
It is our 30th anniversary here at Space Dock 13!
On the web since 1996!
You have encountered an extremely old website that continues to exist in old web ways, the same way it has done for now three decades.
In spite of being now 30 years old this year, started in 1996, it is still heavily active and old pages updated daily, new pages added daily, still now in 2026. All hand written, all hand coded (no AI), all by me, same as it ever was.
We Still Exist: The Old Web Did Not Go Away, You Just Forgot How To Find Us
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This site was NOT designed for mobile devices (as they had not been invented yet when I created it) thus this site looks best on a computer, at 1280x768 or above. |
This is a very old website created in 1996, so, yes, javascript is needed for the site to work as it should. If things don't function, you may need to update javascript drivers on your device |
This site tries to be mobile friendly but it's been online since 1996, so old pages may not load right on mobile devices, and as this site has had pages added near daily for 30 years there are now over 20k pages here. |
Having started out in life as a GeoCities site, this site contains glitter, bright colours, blinkies, moving gifs, and other things the old web was known for. |
Quaraun The Insane: Volume 9 or 21
The Jiggler & The G-String Teddy Bears
The Jiggler & The G-String Teddy Bears: Chapter 1
Home / Quaraun The Insane (Bizarre Yaoi Fantasy Novels) | Free Sample Chapters To Read Online / The Jiggler & The G-String Teddy Bears: Chapter 1 BatDude & Pigeon Poop Boy
f you are here looking for aliens, ufos, demons, cryptids, haunted cars, curses, Etiole, the wild man of old orchard beach, the goldeneagle car, the white monkey, or any of that other weird bullshit, you want this video:
...and after that video, you want these ones:
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 Wendy 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: |
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:
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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.
Coming soon (Nov/Dec 2026)... patterns for my slow stitched embroidery:
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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.
I shouldn't have to say this, but people keep contacting me, so apparently I do:
- No, I do not believe in aliens. Stop contacting me to ask for alien information. If you believe in aliens, I think you are insane, retarded, or both.
- No, my car is not haunted. I've debunked that rumour many times now. . Stop contacting me to ask for haunted car information. If you believe in haunted cars, I think you are insane, retarded, or both.
- No, I am not connected to Stephen King. I didn't even know who he was until you idiots started contacting me asking about him. I had to look him up on Google to find out what you were even talking about! If you have questions about Stephen King, go contact him and ask him. I'm not him. I don't know him. I know nothing about him. I've never read one of his books. I've never seen one of his movies. I can't figure out why you people are even coming to me to ask about him in the first place!
- If someone told you I believe in aliens, if someone told you my car was haunted, if someone told you I was connected to Stephen King, you NEED to contact the FBI agent in charge of my son's murder investigation and TELL HIM WHO it was who told ou, exactly WHAT it was they said, HOW they contacted you, WHERE they contacted you... because it is a KNOWN FACT that my son's murderer is the one who started all these slanderous alien, haunted car, Stephen King rumours, and the FBI is trying to catch her.
If you have any information about my son’s murderer, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Do you know who this woman is?
On August 8, 2013 she drove a backhoe over my house. On November 14, 2013 she arrived at Southern Maine Community College and crippled me with a golf club and murdered my son. One June 24, 2016, days after my first attempts to walk again, she attacked me with a shopping cart at Scarborough, Walmart, reinjuring the Nov 14, 2013 injury.
She crippled me when I was 8 months pregnant, 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 id-ed the attacker who crippled me and killed my baby, both violently with a golf club.
Complete details of EVERYTHING she did is on this page here.
 The golf club woman who called herself Clair as she looked November 14, 2013. Her hair is a weird chin leangth pageboy (very Medival style cut) platinum blonde with wide brown/black dyed stripes in it (like a reverse of Lily Munster, but the stripes are several, almost like a zebra). I am 5'6" and she was a LOT taller then me, like closer to the height of a man; she had thin lips like a man, and large nose like a man... she COULD have been a man disguised as a woman, given the ease with which she severed my spine....she's is a LOT stronger then is typical for a woman). She was wearing a chambre blue denim "blazer jacket over shirt" and a button up mens shirt (possibly flannel) and blue jeans. The bulk of her yelling was focused on accusing me of being transgender, even while ripping my baby out of my 8 month pregnant belly and bashing his head in with a golf club. |
 The Claire woman as she looked during her shoping cart attack at Scarborough WalMart June 2016, the attack with left me paralyzed and in a wheelchair. Her hair was dyed dark red, and she drove away in a gold Volvo 240 Station Wagon of a late 1980s/early1990s model, with a "458" on the lisnce plate.... If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
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If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
Good god! We just found out about yet another slanderous rumour this woman has been spreading? When does it end? How many more of these things are out there?
Video explains what else she's done ...
If you have any information about the woman who crippled me with a golf club, please give it to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
 If you encounter anyone claiming my car is haunted, demon possessed, or somehow connected to Stephen King please give the information of who, when, where/location to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.
If you encounter anyone claiming I believe in aliens or was an alien abducttee, please give the information of who, when, where/location to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
If you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine 04064-1520 on August 8, 2013 please give the information of who it is to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office.  If you know who drove this backhoe over my house at 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine 04064-1520 on August 8, 2013 please give the information of who it is to FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322 of the Portland, Maine FBI office. |
I am sick and tired of people not giving a shit that my son was murdered!
I am sick and tired of jackasses making up rumours and lies about me and my car, calling me an alien abductee and my car haunted, just to try to cover up my son's murder!
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
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
World-Building In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Weird-Building In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Building A Magic System In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
- Wizards vs Witches vs Sorcerers: How are they different?
- Magic Systems and How to Build Them
- Necromancy: How will resurrection affect society as a whole?
- Spell-casting Side Effects of Magic
- Necromancy FAQ - A Real Necromancer Compares Fantasy Necromancy With The Reality
- Colour Magic - Gypsy Style
- Beware of White Men In Gypsy Clothing: Fake Psychic Scams
- Child Sacrifice in Fantasy Novels
Plotting & Writing Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
- Ernest Hemingway Style of Writing Literary Fiction Used In Epic Fantasy Novels
- Do you write a novel start-to-finish?
- Ideas, Ideas, Ideas (Where Do You Get Them?)
- Should I plan for ending or just keep writing?
- NaNoWriMo Overachievers: How did you do it?
- How Long is 50,000 Words?
- Why Write 50,000 Words In 30 Days?
- How long does it take to hit 1667 words?
- Average Typing Speed
Character Creation In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Writing Sex In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Disabled Characters In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Drug Use In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
Horror In Bizzaro Dark High Fantasy Yaoi
This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
Note: there are likely spelling errors on this site, and I am unlikely to see the ... I fix them when I find them, but, there are many issues here...
Note: English is not my first language, Shetlean Scottish is my native language, there are likly spelling and grammar errors, as I do not know American English and am attempting to write it by sounding words out.
Many times that Americans think a word on my site is misspelled, often it is not misspelled, it is just I mixed up languages and wrote it in Scottish without realizing I mixed the Scottish in with the English. Also our grammar is somewhat reversed from English grammar so words that are seeming in the wrong order for American English, is usually because they are in the correct order for Scottish and I either put English words in Scottish order by mistake or was unaware English put them in a different order then Scottish does.
For those unaware, Scottish Shetlean looks like this:
American English to Scottish:
a bit (piece) = a party --- EXAMPLE: "And some know a bit of Latin " > "And somme kan of latyn a party "
a long distance from = A piece fae
a piece of = the bit --- EXAMPLE: "The duck ate a piece of bread " > "The deuk ett the bit breid "
about the banks (on the shore/at the beach) = aboot da banks
accomplishments = kunnandi
After = Back o --- EXAMPLE: " After Halloween" > "Back o Hallomas "
alive (living) = kvikr
Always on the move = Never aff o da go
am I not = amn't I --- EXAMPLE: "Am I not invited? " > "I amn't invited? or Amn't I invited?"
are = is --- EXAMPLE: "Are you going soon?" > "Is ya to be going soon?"
autumn = dah haihst
belong to = fylgja
best = bettah moost
betray (verb) = svíkja
bewildered = villhyggjandi
building = biggin up --- EXAMPLE: "building confidence in everyday use " > " biggin up confidence in ivvryday øs "
built = builded --- EXAMPLE: "He built a new porch." > "Hims builded a new porch."
cast a spell = hoodooed
cat = kat (sounds like "caught") --- EXAMPLE: "Is it an orange cat?" > "Be he a o'jinn kat?"
child = bairn
church = kirk
color = colour
danger = hœttr
daren't = darena
daring = djarfr
dark = dökk
dark elf = Dökkálfr
dark-elves = Døkkálfar
darker = dökká
do you agree = ,eh? --- EXAMPLE: "That's a fine looking woman, do you agree?" > "Dair's ah right bonnie lass, eh?"
do you want to come too = ,eh? --- EXAMPLE: "I'm going to the store, do you want to come with me?" > "Me go to shope, eh?"
each = eche --- EXAMPLE: "Which each person can understand " > "That kan eche man understonde "
educated = lered --- EXAMPLE: "Both among the educated and the uneducated " > "As wel among lered as lewed "
elf = Alfr
Elf = Álfr
Elf Home = Álfheimr
Elf World = Álfheimr
elf-advice = Ælfred
elf-beautiful = ælfscyne
elf-friend = Ælfwine
elf-guardian (female) = Ælfwaru
elf-guardian (male) = Ælfweard
elf-powerful = Ælfric
everyday = ivvryday
eyelids = eye ledes --- EXAMPLE: "He closed his eyelids." > "Hims did shut hims eye ledes"
fair = faire --- EXAMPLE: "Going to the fair." > "Done gone went to the faire."
feild = felde --- EXAMPLE: "Standing in the feild." > "Stoodt in thems felde."
further = ferther --- EXAMPLE: "I looked further." > "I dids lokid ferther."
green = grene --- EXAMPLE: "Look at the green hedges and woods." > "Look see at thems heigges and holtz so grene."
handsome = braw --- EXAMPLE: "He is very handsome " > "Him wicked braw "
have faith = trúa
Have no doubts about our doing it = Nae faer o wis
Have no liking for this. = Hae nae brou o this.
have not = ain't
He knows how many beans make five. = He kens the laid frae the croun o the causey.
He knows which side his bread is buttered on. = He kens whilk side his bannock's buttert on.
Head for = Mak wye for
head rope in fishing nets and lines = baak
head to head = Be at the knag and the widdie
horse fly = klegsie
I = Me
I Think = Me thinks --- EXAMPLE: "I think we're late. " > "Me thinks that we is late. "
I wish you well for the future = Lang may yer lum reek (translation: Long may your chimney smoke)
idiot = eejit --- EXAMPLE: "You idiot." > "Ya eejit."
idiot = numpty
if = iffy or yif--- EXAMPLE: "If you don't mind..." > "Iffy yas does no care mind...."; "If you'll stay with me long enough = "Yif ye so longe with me wil dwelle". "
I'll be even with you = A'll see day aboot wi ye
know = ken
looked = lokid
looked = lokid --- EXAMPLE: "I looked up." > "I lifte up me eye ledes and lokid ferther."
magic = hoodoo
naked = nøkkviðr
needle = bodkin
neither = nouther --- EXAMPLE: "Who know neither Latin nor French " > "That kan nouther latyn ne frensch "
No = Nay --- EXAMPLE: "No, I don't think so. " > "Nay, me thinks not. "
Nobody knew = not-knew nobody
Noontide = Da heicht o da day
NOTE: Extra words are often added. --- EXAMPLE: "Did you meet the new family next door?" > "Dids ya gets a chance to stop by and meets with thems new folk that move-ed in down yawn there next doors to ya, eh?"
NOTE: Extra words are often added. --- EXAMPLE: "He went to Rite-Aid to pick up his prescription" > "Hims did go to that yawn there new fangled store the new folks call that Rite Aid place, to gets himself some of thems there pills what the doctor gone and tells him to take each morning, a-yep, hims did."
old = olde --- EXAMPLE: "But educated and uneducated, old and young " > "Bot lered and lewed olde and yonge "
orange = o'jinn
out = oot --- EXAMPLE: "The cat wants to go out." > "The kat he do wants oot."
outside = oot dair
people = fokk --- EXAMPLE: "the people of Shetland " > "Shetland fokk "
people = folke --- EXAMPLE: "Look at all those people." > "Lookie at all thems folke."
poorly = febelly --- EXAMPLE: "Who know French very poorly " > "That kan frensch ful febelly "
Recognising = Recognisin --- EXAMPLE: "Recognising the bilingual nature of Shaetlan speakers " > "Recognisin da wye at Shaetlan spaekers is bilingual "
shield = skjoldr
Since = For --- EXAMPLE: "Since that is your native language " > "For that is youre kynde langage "
tell = telle --- EXAMPLE: "I'll tell you in English " > "In englysch tonge I schal you telle "
the = da, de, or is not used at all --- EXAMPLE: "I went to the store" > "Me goes to da shoppe" or "Me goes to da shoppe" or "Me goes to shoppe"
them = dem, dem dair --- EXAMPLE: "I went with them" > "Me goes wit dem dair"
there = dair --- EXAMPLE: "I want those potatoes" > "Me be wanting dem dair tatetas."
they = dey
To where = whither --- EXAMPLE: ""Where you go, I will go." " > ""Whither thou goest, I'll go."
understand = understonde
understand = understonden --- EXAMPLE: "Some understand English " > "And somme understonden englysch "
very = wicked --- EXAMPLE: "very good" > "wicked good"; "very bad" > "wicked bad"; "very cold" > "wicked cold"
Where = Whither --- EXAMPLE: "Where is the restroom? " > "Whither is the privy?"
Yes = Yea or Aye --- EXAMPLE: "Yes, I think so. " > "Yea, me thinks so. " or "Aye, me thinks so. "
For anyone actually interested in learning my native language, the Scottish government has THIS listed as the official dictionary of our people: https://static1.squarespace.com/static/61d7352954b7fd1c9dbdfef4/t/65ddb2749d5e0541a01009c0/1709027964496/Spaektionary_2024feb.pdf
The Scottish government provides this document to show our language in use: https://www.shetland.uhi.ac.uk/t4-media/one-web/uhi-shetland-images-and-documents/documents-/shaetlan/Shaetlan-Language-Plan-2022-Shaetlan.pdf
More information about our language can be found on this website: https://www.iheardee.com which is written in my native language.
However, there is also other reasons why words might be misspelled, or why I might not understand someone when they speak to me.
My grandmother Helen Ricker Allen, was from Unst, Shetland, Scotland, and she the one who raised me. She taught me to read and write, but it was Shetlain that she taught me. She died when I was 8 years old, and I was locked in a woodshed after her furneral, I escaped the woodshed 27 years later at age 31, and have been trying to learn how to speak and write English since then.
It is a very great struggle.
At age 37 I took remidial reading and speaking classes at Southern Maine Community College, but we are Gypsies and Gypsy men do not allow us Gypsy women to have education, and so, while at college, on November 14, 2013, I was beaten with a golf club, while I was 8 months pregnet, breaking my spine, hips, and knees, killing my baby and leaving me quardepaleic since.
Now my primary focus these past 13 years has been on relearning to use my hand so I could type... as of 2023, I have regained the use of my right thumb, and first two right fingers, and after 10 years offline, I am back online due to I can use three finguers.
I never went to school, so I do not know maths and numbers and sciences, and I do not know what else would have been taught to me in school. We are Scottish Gypsies and Gypsy culture does not allow females to go to school. Being born female was already a great sin, but my grandmother took great risk in teaching me reading and writing. At 4 years old I was punished by my Uncle Bruce for knowing how to read, by being beaten in the face with a cinder block brick, that broke my right jaw and left me with garbaled near-mute spoken words ever since.
Because no one ever spoke words to be face to face from he time I was 8 years old until I was 37 years old (I escaped the room at age 27, but did not start college until 37), I have no training in how to vocally sound out or speak the words I write or read. I can read words, but I do not know how to sound out or say those words. I can write words, but I do not know how to match the written word against the spoken word. I struggle to associate spoken words at all, or make them match up with writen words.
Esentially, written words and spoken words are two completly seperate languages in my brain, and I have difficulty understanding spoken words.
If you say a sentance to me with your mouth, chances are very high I will have ZERO understanding of what you said and I will not be able to ander you.
However, if you WRITE down that exact same sentabnce, I can understand you and can type a written responce to you.
My doctors tell me this is a side effect of extreme isolation and neglect and lack of human contact during my toddler, childhood, teen, and young adult years, and that my brain never deveoloped to comprehend spoken vocal words due to no one ever speaking to me in over three decades of the first half of my life.
While I can read and write, American English (somewhat) I do no know how words are sounded out, what they are supposed to sound like. I readand write by shape recognition, not by sound/vocal recognition, so when reading and writing I do no "hear the words in my head" as I am told most people do when they read and write. In other words... I see "c a t" and think "c-a-t" I do not think "cat" nor do I "see" an image of a cat, no do I "hear" the word cat spoken. I'm told that this is very rare and that most people read and write by sounding out the words and linking them to visual mind images, while hearing the sound of the word in their head. I neiher hear words in my head no see images of things in my head. I'm told this is what makes me both a speed reader and speed writer, because I'm not tripped up by hear sounds or seeing images in my head like nomal people would be doing... however, I'm also told this is why my spelling and grammar are very poor, because my brain is not hear the sounds of the words or seeing visual images of the objects the words represent, so my mind also does not register spelling and grammer errors at all.
As I was only let out of the woodshed on Sundays to go to the Cape Elezabeth Ward Church of the August Stake of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I was never allowed to go to school or hospital either. No adults ever talked to me because I was evil for comitted the sin of being born female, so I never learned how to speak properly and do not know how to sound out words to say them.
I was 42 years old, in 2016 when, while having an MRI for my spine, the doctors found out my speak issue was caused by a broken jaw as a toddler that was healed wrong because not being allowed to go to doctors. I had surgury to fix that, and since 2016 have been trying to learn how to use my jaw and touge so I can speak vocal words now.
Since 2023 my primary focus shifted to relearning to walk. I can now, in 2026, sit up for 2 or 3 hours a day, and can sand with a cane for a few minutes, and can walk for around five thousand feet in 2 to 3 segments a day, with the help of pushing my wheelchair like a walker.
As of 2026, with a slight return to using my fingers and legs, I am once again focused on trying to learn the American English, but I live in mortal fear of my uncles and male cousins, as they are so hateful of allowing me to have education.
have no one to help me to know if I am doing words correctly, and as such, I have no way of knowing if there are spelling and grammar errors, but I asume there are, and I fix them when I learn them, but I do not know what I do not know and spelling American words is a thing I do bnot know.
I have Low Fucntioning Kanner's Syndrom, also known as "RainMan Type of Autism" aka REAL and ACTUAL Autism, not to be confused with Aspergers, High Functioning Autism, or and of thr 861 illnesses on the Autism Spectrum. An Autism Spectrum Disorder is an illness that has symptoms similar to Autism but IS NOT Autism. If you have an Autism Spectrum Disorder, it LITERALLY MEANS you do NOT have Autism.
I am medically diagnosed as "kanner's syndrome, actual autism, the rainman type, profoundly retarded autistic savant, with a general IQ of 73, and an writing IQ of 221" but they added that they did not know how to properly diagnose me as I am "technically a feral child" and they don't know "how much is the autism, and how much is simple horrific levels of abuse and neglect induced post traumatic stress disorder that will go away with proper socilization".
It means I know how to write, I can write a lot, and it is next to impossible for you to teach me how to do literally anythig else because my brain only knows how to write and doesn;t know how to do anything else..
There's a reason, when I do book signings, people are quick to say: "Okay, what's the joke? why is this stupid retard here? where's the real author? I know this retard isn't the author. where are you hiding the author, why is this fucking retard here"
The end result is, I have near zero social interaction... my 3 years in college was the ONLY face to face interaction I have ever had with humans in my entire life, and I struggle deeply to understand MOST words used by MOST people when they ask me question. And so I suffer from a huge lack of understanding many words people say to me, how to translate those words into spelling, and how to translate what it is that has been said.
The fact remains hat until there exists a human on this planet who is willing to sit down and teach me what words spoken line up with and match what words written, this deficent is unlily to improve. But the fact also remains, that I am simply far too profoundly retarded for anyone to even try to make any attempt at all even to speak a friendly "hgelloe" or "good morning" when passing me on the street, so I have lost all hope of anyone ever either being my friend, being willing to teach me how to match spoken words to written words, or how to speak to other humans.
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.
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Thank you for stopping by and have a nice day! ꧁✨🌸🔮🦄🔮🌸✨꧂ And if it’s your birthday today: ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐꧁ᴴᵃᵖᵖʸ☆ᵇⁱʳᵗʰᵈᵃʸ꧂🤍🎀🧸🌷🍭 |
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Get an email whenever Wendy Christine Allen 🌸💖🦄 aka EelKat 🧿💛🔮👻 publishes on Medium.
I also write on these locations: | Amazon | Ao3 | Blogger | GumRoad | Medium | Notd | OnlyFans | Tumblr | Vocal |
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.
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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 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.
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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. If 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. If 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.  If 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.
Important:
Fraudulent sites are impersonating Wendy Christine Allen.
- The ONLY official website for Wendy Christine Allen is www.eelkat.com
Fraudulent social media accounts, particularly on Reddit and FaceBook are impersonating Wendy Christine Allen.
- The ONLY official social media accounts for Wendy Christine Allen are listed in the footer here at www.eelkat.com
Find Me on Social Media:
Any websites and accounts you find online that are NOT on this list are NOT Wendy Christine Allen
There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
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But is it Omega Verse?
Readers have suggested my Quaraun series is Omegaverse... let's find out if it is or not
If you encounter a page which asks for a password, no, you can not request access. There are over 2k pages of this website set to password access, due to the ongoing FBI investigation into my son's murder. If you are a police officer authorized access these pages but do not have the passwords, let me know, I will deliver the passwords to the specific pages you are allowed to access, to you via the Portland FBI office and you can pick them up from the FBI agent in charge of the murder investigation.
Pages where you can find out more information on that:
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What's New (Newly Published or Recently Updated or Edited)
IMPORTANT NOTE: There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
If you are one of (as of December 2025, the now more than ten thousand) daily visitors, who arrive here daily in search of SEO advice, I made this page for you:
The Park Bench Method of Writing
Crazy Woman Just Attacked - No Clue Why or Who She Is
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For Anyone Looking for:My response to MUFON's Amphibious Aliens? My response to Coast to Coast AMs Arrival in my yard?
Wendy Christine Allen, Old Orchard Beach's Autistic Author, Artist, Illustrator, & Art Car Designer Counting Down to the 2028 50th Anniversary of my first published book (September 23, 1978) Yes, I am aware there are a lot of spelling errors on this site. No, I likely will not be fixing most of them. I have been quadriplegia/paralyzed arms and legs since November 14, 2013; As of 2026, I have regained use of two fully functional fingers on my right hand, and only stiff limited movement of all remained eight fingers. This causes most of the typos and spelling errors as my near-dead pinky and ring fingers tend to drag over the other letters on the keyboard. Attempts to correct errors, often causes more errors for the same reason. Much of my writing is also speech to text, but I have "profound low functioning, non-verbal kanner's syndrome aka autism aka the rainman type" (that is what the medical diagnosis called it), I have the medically diagnosed retarded type of autism, that medical doctors mean when they say "real and actual autism", I do not have the cool trend self diagnoses tiktok type of "autism". What this means is, in spite of five decades of trying, I have very limited vocal speaking abilities and a lower then average vocabulary, that leaves my speaking ability around the level of a 4 or 5 year old child; I do not know math or money or clocks and. I also, was raised by a Shetland Scottish Grandmother (Helen Ricker Allen) until her death when I was 8 years old, and she did not speak American, she spoke Shetland/Scottish, Shetlandic, which is a Nordic language, different from Scotts Language, not related to Gaelic which is what many Scottish speak, and while classified as a type of Scottish English is is considered "Olde medieval Norse" dialect of Scottish English and spoken by fewer then two thousand people as of 2026. It is the language of Scottish Travelling Gypsies, which is what we racial are. I was 31 years old first time I ever heard American English, and only started to learn American English at 42 years old. Right now in 2026 at 51 years old, I am able to speak American English on around the level of an 8 year old child, and greatly do not understand over 90% of American words, American slang, and American media references. What this means is, OFTEN words you think are spellt wrong (like color vs colour, or traveling vs travelling, are in fact NOT spelt wrong, because I use Scottish spellings) and often when I hear an American word, I spell it phonetically because I do not know the correct American spelling. Likewise we Scottish do not have words like my or your, and so say me and you, in places where Americans would say my and your. I also use Scottish word meanings, not American word meanings, for example Unicorn means a blood thirsty flesheating shapeshifting sea creature that comes on land and pretends to be a wounded horse to lure in humans to eat, it can only be captured by a virgin. But when I say Unicorn, a word I frequently use, because I write Unicorn folkloric short stories... I find that most Americans connect Unicorns to children's cartoons, gay pride, or swinging sex lives... I struggle to understand who in their right mind thought the most bloodthirsty monster of Scotland folklore was good fodder for children's cartoons or "sex positive" mascots, me thinks Americans need to brush up on the lore of Unicorns using their horns as sword to stabbed people's eyes out, while gallopping through swamps with rows of bloody Human heads hanging from their backs via braids made of Human entrails... really, why did Americans thinks a monster like a Unicorn was fit for children's cartoons or sex positivity? Americans is weird. All this to say... speech to text software, struggles badly with my thick Shetland accent, my slurred Autism speech impediment, and causes additional misspellings and typos because it can not figure out what words I am trying to say. And while I could take the time time to run all of it through a spell checker, that does require better hand mobility then I have, to copy the text from one program to the next and manually click each word, with finger mobility that I simply do not have, but also, most of my time is spent in trying to relearn to walk, and if you are local, you've probably seen this as I'm a stubborn bitch who refused to accept the doctor disnosis that I will never walk again, so, I walk around the block every day pushing my wheelchair, refusing to sit in my wheelchair, and... ...it's taking me 13 years to do it, but, I'm not actually able to stand up and make it all the way around the block now, and my focus on trying to relearn to walk is far more important to me, then catering to your pampered arse by fixing spelling errors, when there are far bigger problems to worry about in life, the spelling errors made by a quadriplegic who is typing this with her only two functioning fingers. Also, in recent years, I've watched the internet devolve into a mindless clusterfuck of ChatGPT written everything. Everyone sounds the same online these days, because no writes their own work anymore. Every website out there has become a carbon copy of each other, because they are all be written by ChatGPT now. I think ChatGPT makes a funny thing to chat with in your spare time, so you can laugh at the hilarity of how inaccurate it's responses are... but I am horrified that people are using AI for serious writing, writing they publish and try to pass off as their own. We live in a society where people people are forgetting how write. Heck I can read and write cursive, calligraphy, italic, short hand, and editor's marks, also edit my books by hand diagraming every sentence, and that... start walking around your neighbourhood and ask anyone under 30 if they sentence diagraming IS, let alone how to do it. So yes, I CAN spell check, and no I don't, for anything but my novels and short story collections, I spell check when it matters... and this is a website, not a printed book... but also, I am just getting so damn fucking fed up with endless AI writing online, so, no, I'm not going to fix errors and typos on my website, and you can bitch about that all you want (yes, I do get your messages, I just don't answer anyone in private) but, honey, maybe instead of bitching over my spelling errors, be thankful is still at least one website on the internet that still being written by a Human now in 2026 when ChatGPT writes over 70% of all posts online. |
Looking for my annual NaNoWriMo Prompts and Dares? I've been publishing these every year since 2004!
 The Park Bench Method of Writing The Adventures of Quaraun The Insane: Paperpacks & Hardcover Editions on Amazon:
Not sure what the series is about? Check out and Faeries vs Elves (In The Quaraun Series) A Pink Necromancer World Lore Post and Worldbuilding MoonQuakes and Disabled Characters for Fantasy Writers and How well do I know Quaraun? - Let's find out! to find out more about the plot and lore of the series. Not sure which story to start with? These here are good places to start, to get a good introduction to the three main characters:
Or if after reading those, you still are looking for more free to read stories, there are over three thousand of them on this site, too many to list here, but here a few dozen to get you started... ...you can just jump in and try reading some of the free to read online stories first before committing to buying the books:
Hmmm... soooo... I was making the above list to ALL the links to EVERY Quaraun story published on my website here, and adding it into the footer of my site, here as you can see, which loads on every page, and then I realized... wait... there are over two thousand Pink Necromancer stories up free to read on my website, I can't put two thousand links on every single page! Whoops! LOL! So, now I'm putting list to ALL the links to EVERY Quaraun story published on my website here on this page instead and just link that page to the footer instead. But also I'll just leave some of the links in the footer, as you can see above.
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This page was written by Wendy Christine Allen of 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine.
All Rights Reserved.
The Space Dock 13 WebRing
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Yes, this website (founded in 1996) is old enough to have WebRings on it, and they are still in use.
Don't know what a WebRing is?
They were how we webmasters used to get traffic to our websites before the invention of search engines (aka before Jeeves, DogPile, Yahoo. Google, Bing, or the rest existed). In their simplest form a WebRing is an html code that rotates link displays. In their more advanced form they are java scripts that give random results. Each ring had three active links titled "Previous", "Random", and "Next", clicking any of the 3 links would take you to the next website in the ring.
Web Rings are the REASON the internet was called "the world wide web". To use them, each webmaster submitted their site to the ring, a single code held 100 websites, and codes could be stacked to hold 100 code sets (or 10,000 links to 10,000 websites), each web master in the list, would then place the code in the footer of their website.
This created the SPIDER WEB that was the literal WEB OF LINKS that gave the internet it's name "World Wide Web" and is WHY websites are CALLED "web sites". And technically, your site is not a WEB site unless it is connected to a WEBRing, likewise you technically are not a WEBMaster if you do not build WEBrings links for you WEBsite to connect to the WEB.
Unfortunately, most knowledge of WebRings, and whi sites were called WEBsites and sites on the WEB were called the World Wide Web, vanished from the internet in 2014 when the official WebRing.org company who managed 90%+ of the internet's WebRings went out of business after the infamous Google Panda 2013 bot attack that delisted ALL websites from the Google Index if they contained a WebRing of links to other websites in it's footer.
And while most sites abandoned the use of WebRing Codes on their sites, Space Dock 13 did not. The Space Dock 13 WebRing remains active, now 28 years after it's creation. Over the decades however, one by one all the other websites in the ring have gone off line, and as they did, I replaced the url with a link to a page of my own website (as this is a java code - it updated on every website without the others needing to change anything). Today in 2026, eelkat.com is the last remaining website in the ring, and now all 10k links go only to pages on eelkat.com, no longer sending you to other websites.
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The Park Bench Method of Writing
IMPORTANT NOTE:
There are no ebook editions as they are already available digitally here on my website.
Want even more writing prompts?
Do you have information about my son's murder and need the FBI contact information:
If you have any information about my son’s murderer, please call FBI Agent Andy Drewer at 207–774–9322
If anyone contacts you saying 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, is for sale, know that they are lying to you... it is my land, and it has been in my family since 1531... and the ONLY person whom has EVER gone around saying it is for sale, is a woman who the FBI believes to be the same woman who murdered my son.
My son is buried here, and the FBI believes she is trying to buy my land in order to destroy his grave and destroy evidence of his murder.
Since my son's murder November 14, 2013, every year dozens of real estate agent show up all with a story of a female developer who is offering them MILLIONS of dollars for my lot of land that is only 1/4 of an acre and is not big enough to develop.
When shown police sketches of my son's murderer, the real estate agents say "Yes, that's the woman who hired me to buy 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine", but then the woman disappears and the real estate agents never hear from her again... all contact information she gave them turns out to be fake.
The woman who murdered my son, is DESPERATELY trying to buy 146 Portland Ave, Old Orchard Beach, Maine... this is the woman to watch out for... and this is what she did:
Looking to find out more about my son's murder, that information is on these pages:
Answering the questions:
Can you give me links to the news reports of your son's murder?
and
Why can't I find any news reports about this?
Maine has well over a thousand murder cases that have never been in the news.
I found this out after my son was murdered November 2013, and a year later I found out it had never been in the news, even though I was hounded for weeks by news people. I went to each of the over a dozen TV stations and newspapers whom had showed up at the hospital and asked why they had never published any report after all the trouble they had gone through to (in some cases illegally) het into the hospital to interview me.
in every case they said some version of "well, it just wasn't news worthy, there was nothing we could use to get views". Really? These were big news stations, channel 13, 6, 8, Portland Press Herald, Bangor Daily...
What exactly was it they claimed was "not news worthy"?
I'll tell you.
On November 14, 2013, my son was murdered. At Southern Maine Community College in the parking lot of The Buglight Art Studio beside the Spring Point Lighthouse.
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.
Oh yeah, and I've been quadriplegic for 13 years.
oh yeah one more thing, same trio, they also found out where i lived in Old Orchard Beach and drove a backhoe over my house as well.
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146 Portland Ave Old Orchard Beach, Maine... July 4, 2013 vs August 8, 2013 |
I have been homeless and quadriplegic for 13 years, and right now it's just a few weeks away from both my son's 14th birthday and the 14th anniversary of the day he was murdered, both of which happened the same day.
Explain to me what about any of that is "not newsworthy"?
I did find out WHY it was deemed not newsworthy. "it would negatively impact tourism" was their reason. The College at Fort Prebble is a tourist destination. The lighthouse at the college is a tourist destination. My house on Portland ave is situated on the primary road to the beach that is a tourist destination.
The news reporters explained to me that, they risked losing their jobs if they publicised "negative news" occurring in these sorts of tourist destination spots.
My son's murder wasn't in the news, because it might cause tourists to stop visiting that lighthouse. That was the reason the reporters gave me.
How often are there things not being reported on just so businesses don't lose tourist money?
How often does this happen? A lot, I've since found out. In trying to find other mothers of murdered children to interact with... I found five others JUST in Old Orchard Beach, whom the murders were not in the news, and all of them happened after my son's murder. I found 2 such mothers in Scarbourogh, their children's murders not in the news. I found over a dozen more in the Bar Harbore area, also all not in the news.
It's a very disturbing trend here in Maine, one that I never would have found out about had my own son not been murdered.
One thing's very clear: in Maine you can get away with murdering a child, if you do it in a big tourist location, because news stations REFUSE to report any crime occurring in tourist locations.
Fuck torists.
I don't give a shit about your precious tourist money.
My son was murdered and I want his killer found... and I am VERY displeased with the deplorable way news stations try to bury child murders in Maine, just to appease tourist funded businesses.
And if you're one of those lunatic jackass bullshitting alien abduction UFO freaks, looking for haunted cars, Stephen King, cryptids, or EBEs, first off, you can go fuck yourselves. I am so damned sick of you conspiracy brained motherfuckers harassing my family and turning my son's murder case into a circus of you psycho deranged bullshit. Here's some pages for you:
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