Abortion Arcade by Cameron Pierce

By Cameron Pierce

Abortion Arcade is a suite of 3 novellas by way of one of many shining younger stars of bizarro fiction. Cameron Pierce's paintings is an intoxicating combination of physique horror and dead night motion picture insanity, resembling early David Lynch and the splatterpunks at their so much elegant. His fiction will punch you within the mind and go away you gasping for extra.

Featuring:

NO childrens
The apocalypse is over. Now zombies farm people for his or her brains. because the imprisoned human farm animals flow farther from their humanity, the zombies flourish in a primitive renaissance, flying round in helicopters and dwelling in shrewdpermanent homes made up of human brains.

THE ROADKILL QUARTERBACK OF HEAVY steel excessive
After Heavy steel High's megastar quarterback dies in a motor vehicle coincidence, Danny the Dio-worshipping werewolf needs to rework from loser to gridiron megastar during this surreal pulp tragedy approximately teenage nervousness, highschool violence, and heavy fucking steel.

THE DESTROYED ROOM
In a near-future urban the place cars were outlawed and unique animals roam the streets, a guy wakes up one morning to find that everybody on the planet is a marionette. Now his spouse is useless and he needs to uncover the answer, otherwise lose every thing to the good Shark Head within the Sky.

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Additional resources for Abortion Arcade

Sample text

I’m all right. ” I told her. “I’m coming over right away,” said the operator, and hung up. I cocked my head. Sirens outside. A knock at the door. I still hadn’t locked it. The door opened and a woman entered and she called my name and marched through the house until she found me, bleak, wild, lingering over the gruesome corpse of the chimpanzee. “Lower your weapon and step away from the unripe mammal,” she barked, fingering a baton. I dropped the gun and backed into a china cabinet. She looked good in her uniform.

I just sent you an email,” he said. ” He told me the story. He hung up and sprinted to my office . . ” I said into the phone. “Hello? ” “Hello,” he said, standing in my doorway, and told me the story . . I nodded. I made understanding faces. I smiled. I made surprised faces. I pushed out my lips. I nodded again. . He finished the story, turned to leave, came back and told the story, turned to leave, came back and told the story and told the story and told the story, turned to leave, and left.

HENCE THE DRAMA I was shopping for Hawaiian shirts in the clearance section when a clerk appeared with a red phone on a platter. A bird’s nest of bobby pins held her hair in place. I looked back and forth between the hair and the phone. The phone rang. “It is for you,” said the clerk in an eastern European accent. The ring was loud. Shoppers glanced in our direction. I wasn’t entirely sure the clerk was talking to me, even though she had addressed me squarely, even though she was looking right at me, holding the phone out to me, and I was looking at her, and looking at the phone, but still, I couldn’t be sure .

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