COMING THIS OCTOBER 1ST FROM GRANCZYNSKI GRINDHOUSE

When Sanchez went to work today, little did he expect to unearth a human leg.

Sanchez Finds A Leg...

Now he must track down the owner of the leg by putting ads in the Lost And Found section of the local newspaper. As he goes through the possible candidates, Sanchez finds himself drawn into a budding romance with the severed leg, treating it like a lover and refusing to give it up to its rightful owner.

Sanchez Finds A Leg...

Kung-fu, severed limbs and other body parts, demons and Jersey gun molls, grandmas that murder apple pies and bad dreams, all of this and pickles galore.

Coming to a bookshelf near you!

Introduction To The Incredible Void

I love comics but I'm not a huge fan of superheroes. Whenever someone asks me if I've seen the latest Marvel movie or if I've read something superhero-related, it surprises them to hear me say, “No.” I don't hate superheroes. I'm just not a big fan. And let me qualify this: I'm not a fan of Superman, don't read Superman, don't want to see a film about him. But I like Daredevil. I'm not a huge fan of Batman but I do like some of the stories told about him. And I'm not an Incredible Hulk, Dr. Strange or Iron Man fan, but I read Ed Brubaker's seminal run on Captain America and enjoyed it. I read Christopher Priest's run on Black Panther and I thoroughly enjoyed it (and loved the film). Superheroes just don't do it for me.

Which is strange because I love mythology and fairy tales. Go figure.

This story is about superheroes and I'm happy with it. I hope you enjoy.

THE INCREDIBLE VOID

THE INCREDIBLE VOID

     “Let me get this straight,” the mayor said. “There is a being out there that can suck all of reality into it and leave everything an empty void.”

     “You kind of have it right,” Atomic Lad said.

     

     Atomic Man gave him a look that said, “Shut up, kid. This is the mayor you’re talking to. Have some respect.” But Atomic Man kept quiet and allowed Atomic Lad to continue.

     

     “So basically, The Incredible Void, I came up with that name, by the way, sweeps into your town and turns its gaze on whatever it wants to eat and before you know it, City Hall, for instance, is gone. There’s no sucking going on.”

     

     Atomic Lad put his arms behind his head and reclined in his chair with a self-satisfied smile on his face. He had just educated the mayor on how to properly use the English language. He looked over at Atomic Man, who wore a very disapproving scowl. So what if he was smarter than his mentor? The only thing that kept Atomic Lad from moving out of the mansion was, duh, it was a mansion. Atomic Lad would have gladly gone out on his own long ago (he was twenty-six, for goodness sake) if the fact that he wasn’t being paid to be a full-time superhero meant that he couldn’t get a mansion of his own. Living in a mansion helped him score with the ladies and he just wasn’t willing to give that up in order to get a day job or strike out on his own.

     

     “So what are you prepared to do to protect Sandy Heights?” the mayor asked. “What can any of us do?”

     

     “We have a plan, Madame Mayor,” Atomic Man assured her.

     

     “May I ask what it entails?” the mayor asked, scratching her nose. She stared a hole through Atomic Man’s mask, trying to figure out his secret identity even as he started to talk. He was clearly good-looking, with well-chiseled features and six-pack abs.

     

     “Well,” Atomic Man started to say. The fact was he had no plan. He had just said that there was a plan because that’s what superheroes do. They have plans to help take down the evil that comes to town. They do their best to reassure the public and especially city officials. Damn it, he thought, why don’t we have a plan? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Atomic Lad looking at him intently. The little shit was being a real nuisance today. All the way over to the mayor’s office, he nitpicked their battle with Soft Serve, the ice cream-throwing clown, from the other night. Then he rubbed the mayor’s beautiful nose in the fact that she used the word suck. And now Atomic Lad was mocking him, propping his chin up with a hand and looking like he was really interested in what Atomic Man had to say.

     

     The intercom buzzed. The mayor hit a button and said, “Yes, Wanda?”

     

     “I have the governor on the line,” Wanda, the mayor’s secretary, said.

     

     The mayor excused herself and picked up the phone. “Yes, Governor Hall. Yes. Yes. I have Atomic Man and Atomic Lad here. Yes. Hang on one moment.” She punched a button and then set the handset back into the cradle. “Go ahead, sir.”

     

     The governor’s voice came over the speaker. “Atomic Man, how much time do you think we have before this thing makes its appearance? I have the National Guard on their way to Sandy Heights now. But I fear that they might be too late.”

     

     Atomic Lad was pissed. How dare the governor not include him in this conversation? The mayor had told him he was here. Atomic Man didn’t have a plan, had no idea when The Incredible Void was going to pop up. The truth was no one did. But he knew that good ol’ Atomic Man was about to pretend that he was prepared to kick some cosmic ass.

     

     “There is no telling when The Incredible Void might appear, Mr. Governor, sir,” Atomic Man said. “However, myself and Atomic Lad stand at the ready, ever vigilant to dispatch any threat to Sandy Heights. After all, this is our home.”

     

     Rah, rah, Atomic Lad thought with an eye roll.

     

     “Glad to hear it, Atomic Man,” the governor said. “We will do everything to assist you. Good luck to you.”

     

     The governor hung up.

     

     “What now?” the mayor said. She picked up a pencil and held it poised over a sheet of paper. She looked from Atomic Man to Atomic Lad and back again.

     

     “Now,” Atomic Man said, “we wait.” 

Introduction to A Swimmer In The Sea Of Time

This story is a fairy tale mixed with mythology. In college, I took a Children's Media course and fairy tales were, of course, part of the curriculum. Fairy tales are not just for children. The watering down of fairy tales have made them palatable for us to tell to our children but if you want the real story (literally), go back and look at the originals, before Disney got their hands on them. In the same semester, I took a Mythology course. I feel like mythology is in my DNA. I absolutely love mythology.

A SWIMMER IN THE SEA OF TIME

A SWIMMER IN THE SEA OF TIME

     She was just seventeen when she swam her first and last lifetime. She'd wanted to do this for most of her life, ever since her other sisters had returned telling tales of untold riches and adventure. Riches they never returned with. Adventure they longed to return to.

     

     Bedtime stories. Fairy tales. That's what all the kids at school said. That's what her parents told her.

     

     But she knew better. After all, her name was Dysis and she was a goddess of time, a daughter of Chronos.

     

     She would come to understand later why her parents had tried everything to dissuade her from swimming in the sea of time. Until she made her first and final journey, Dysis couldn't fathom their fervent and seemingly false admonishments.

     

     Finally, her seventeenth birthday arrived like a welcome wind, Dysis felt free. Seventeen was the year when a child was considered to be an adult and autonomy was bestowed upon them. Dysis could not and would not wait, despite the pleas from her parents. She had become a student of time, had learned how to slip into its streams which ultimately would lead to the seas, and now that she was no longer shackled to her parents, she slipped away.

     

     Nothing could have prepared Dysis for her experience. She had forgotten who she was. Yes, she was a goddess of time, a daughter of Chronos. But she also represented the sunset and therefore everything she saw on her swim was an ending, without a new beginning. She saw the end of empires and the end of civilizations. The end of species. The end of words. The end of music. The end of tears. The end of civility. The end of humanity. The end of planets and stars and universes.

     

     Dysis saw the end of time itself. Tears flowed from her eyes and merged with the sea, mingled with time. Dysis turned away to head back to her home. The current was strong. It tried to sweep her away, tried to end her. She swam fiercely, forcing herself to shut her eyes so as to see no more. She knew the streams and could go by feel. She slipped back into her own stream, finally safe on the shore.

     

     Dysis angrily confronted her sisters. The children at school were right. Their stories had been fairy tales. “Why did you tell me lies?” she asked each one.

     

     Each replied the same. “I do not know what you are talking about. I saw riches and adventure. I lived a thousand happy lives in the sea.”

     

     Dysis did not have tales of untold riches or adventure. The taste of ash was in her mouth. She vowed never to swim again but knew that the siren song of the sea would lure her back.

     

     And it did. And she went back into the sea of time again and again.

     

     The first time back, Dysis was terrified. Gradually, Dysis became fascinated. Fascinated with endings, fascinated with death. She began to embrace death and see its beauty beyond the initial terror. She stopped thinking of what she was seeing as an ending and more like a capstone, a denouement, a resolution. The tears she cried now where no longer tears of pain but rather, tears of joy.

     

     And each time she swam home, she told tales of riches and adventure. Riches she returned with. Adventure she longed to share. 

SEND HIM BACK TO THE DARKEST TIMELINE

SEND HIM BACK TO THE DARKEST TIMELINE

Introduction

The darkest timeline. A set piece, a destination, a thing, whatever, from the comedy Community. Basically the characters in Community have dopplegangers that come from the darkest timeline, which is set in motion by Jeff, who rolls a die six times and creates six different timelines, one of which sees most of his friends decimated in some fashion. Abed becomes evil in this timeline, as do the rest of the gang due to things that happen to them. What if You-Know-Who is from the darkest timeline? How would we send him back? Doesn't matter. It must be done.

 “So we're all agreed that he's not of this Earth but from a parallel Earth that really, really misses him because he was supposed to be their supreme leader, right?” Chuck Schumer said.

“Yep,” Nancy Pelosi said.

“Yeah,” Adam Schiff agreed.

“Okay, cool,” Schumer said. “So how do we get him back where he belongs?”

“Portals, man,” Pelosi said. “Portals always work.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Schiff asked, his voice raising an octave. “Portals never work.”

“What'd I miss?” Maxine Waters asked as she came around a corner and joined the trio.

“Nancy and Adam are arguing about portals,” Schumer told her.

“Again?” Waters asked.

“It is a proven fact that portals will not and never have worked and if you think that they're going to get rid of...” Schiff paused as a Republican congressman walked by. “If you think that portals are going to work to get rid of him, then I have some ocean-front property to sell you.”

“You do have ocean-front property, Adam,” Waters said.

“I know,” Schiff said. “That's what I was saying.”

“That's not how it works, Adam,” Schumer said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“How does it work then, Mr. Big Shot New Yorker?” Schiff said in a mocking tone.

“The concept is simple...” Schumer started to explain.

“Guys,” Waters said. “Let's get back to business. If not portals, Adam, then what?”

“I don't know,” Schiff said.

“Then why did you bust my balls on the portals?” Pelosi asked.

“He did it because he's a little twerp, Nance,” Schumer said.

“I got your twerp right here,” Schiff shouted, grabbing his own crotch.

“Guys!” Maxine Waters shouted. Maxine Waters never shouts. Both Schumer and Schiff looked like they had been screamed at by their mother, hanging their heads and scuffing their shoes on the ground. “This is exactly why we are in the situation we're in. Why we never beat the people that should be beaten. Why we're even having this conversation. If you-know-who came here with the expressed purpose of throwing this timeline into chaos, to make it more like his own, then Mission Fucking Accomplished for him. Now shake each other's hands, say you're sorry and let's come up with a real plan.”

“Sorry,” Schumer said, extending his hand.

“Yeah,” Schiff said, gripping the New York senator's hand.

“So what's the plan then?” Pelosi said. “If you don't want to do portals, we don't have to do portals.”

*

A week later, the quartet of conspirators surrounded the doppleganger of You-Know-Who and attempted to shove him into a car, a silver DeLorean. They were finally able to stuff him into the front seat and Adam Schiff, who whined until they all conceded that he could drive, jumped behind the steering wheel.

“Get it up to 88 miles per hour and then bail. Got it?” Pelosi said.

“I've seen Back To The Future enough to know how this works,” Schiff said.

“Just trying to help,” Pelosi said and shut the bat-wing door.

Schiff revved the engine and sped off down the street. He watched the speedometer climb. 55, 60, 65, 70, 75, 80, 85, 86, 87...the engine sounded like it was going to blow through the hood. 88! He tried to jump out of the car but it was too late. The portal opened up and swallowed the car, Schiff and the doppleganger.

“Huh, I guess portals do work,” Schiff said as he looked around at the desolate landscape surrounding the DeLorean.

“And I guess you're going to turn around and take us right back where we came from,” You-Know-Who's doppleganger said, his right hand having morphed into a silver cannon.

As he turned the DeLorean around and put it into gear, his foot firm on the accelerator, his eyes on the cannon that used to be the faux President's hand, Adam Schiff thought, “Well, Nancy. I hope you enjoy your view of the ocean.”

Send Him Back To The Darkest Timeline is one of 50 stories in the forthcoming 50 Ways To Dump The Donald, coming before Election Day from Granczynski Grindhouse Press.

Introduction to Send Him Back To The Darkest Timeline

This first story at Granczynski Grindhouse is a story that will be included in my new collection, 50 Ways To Dump The Donald. It's a collection of 50 stories that propose how to get rid of Trump without doing bodily harm to him. Anyone that thinks we should do bodily harm to him is just playing into his hands and the hands of his supporters, who will then paint people opposed to him for good reason as terrorists. So let's get creative and figure out ways, 50 ways, all of them fictional fantasies to get rid of him.

And vote on Election Day.

P.S. Don't let them take away your vote by postponing the election and don't let them steal another one.

Welcome To The Grindhouse

Welcome to Granczynski Grindhouse.

This has been a long time coming. I'm not going to bore you with too many details. If you want to know all the gory, you can get in touch with me. I'm not too hard to find.

What are you going to find here?

For the time being, you will find stories that were written by yours truly and no one else. The reason for this is I want to be able to showcase stories that I have written that either won't make the cut into a collection or some stuff from the past that I want to trot out to share with you.

You will also see promotions for books published through Granczynski Grindhouse. These will, at least initially, be my books but I hope to add other writers to the mix.

Why grindhouse and are you going to find blaxploitation, exploitation, sexploitation, gore, gunfights and girls, girls, girls here?

You might. You might not. It all depends on the mood I'm in.

I chose to call my publishing company Granczynski Grindhouse because of my last name and because I love grindhouse films. The so-bad-it's-good kind of films that everyone either loves or loves to make fun of. And, hey, there's nothing wrong with laughter.

Grindhouse also means that the stories that you see here were churned out fast. I have started to get pretty prolific in sitting down and writing stories. Sometimes it's hard work, even when you get a prolific day. Other times, it comes real easy. I fall somewhere in between of late, with days where I have to make myself sit there and do the work and other days where I HAVE TO WRITE, RIGHT NOW!

That will show up in these stories, of that I have no doubt.

But it's all in fun and all in the game.

Without further ado, I welcome you again to The Grindhouse.