Google Deep Nightmare - Article by Jesse Guillon

The following text is from a topic I found in the “/r/deepdream" subreddit. The thread has since been deleted. I had the same thread open in two tabs, so luckily I was able to copy the text from the second tab after I'd refreshed the first and found that the link was now dead.

------------

ATTENTION: Keep an eye on Deep Dream

submitted 6 hours ago by AlMord0

Many of you are sharing your trippiest Deep Dream images here. Which, logically, means you each have hundreds of Deep Dream results you aren't posting, and are sure to run many more of your pictures through the algorithm in the days/weeks to come. I'd like to ask that everyone here keeps their eyes open for any results that look suspicious, and that they report such images in this thread.

No matter how absurd your worries may seem, trust that I've seen weirder. I was one of the programmers at Google working on the code.

For those who've used Deep Dream to “weirdify" their photos without knowing exactly what DD is, it's a process designed to study Google's AI - namely its image-recognition capabilities and capacity to learn. Google's AI consists of many layers of "neurons" that connect to one another, like in a human brain. The AI takes a stack of labeled images (say, images of cars) and feeds them through this series of digital neurons in an attempt to isolate and discover the defining features of said object.

When we asked the AI to create its own image of a car, it gave us a misshapen box with about five wheels on a winding road. Since about half the pictures you find when you type “car" into Google Image feature cars driving on roads, it's understandable that the AI would think that cars and roads are mutually inclusive. The same goes for vases; when we asked the AI to create an image of a vase, the resulting image included a bunch of malformed blossoms.

As you all know, Deep Dream is great at discovering “hidden images" where none exist. You feed it an image of a cloudy sky and it returns a deformed mass of eyes, temples and dog faces. The fact that it sees dogs in so many pictures is bizarre. Some people have theorized that this is because we fed the AI more labeled pictures of dogs than anything else, but I know for a fact that this isn't true. We gave it just as many images of different breeds of fish, birds, people, and all manner of inanimate objects. Still, you say “jump", Deep Dream says “dogs".

While we were testing the program, many of the results were accurate, and many more were hilariously wrong. We once typed in “teacup" and it gave us an open toilet bowl. Nonetheless, we were impressed by the AI's success rate. When we asked for a “clock", we may have gotten a warped Dali-esque blob of a clock, but Google at least knew what the word meant.

However, some of the results were a little confusing. When we typed in “people", we were given a picture of what looked like cockroaches. The fact that they appeared to have been splattered wasn't too unsettling, since that's how many of the results looked. For most of us, the real concern came when one of us asked the program what “future" looked like.

We were expecting it to return a picture of a flying car or space travel or even something resembling a Futurama character (hey, we'd fed the AI *lots* of different images). We got an image of space, alright. It was a picture of a colorful marble mostly resembling Earth before a starry blue background. Several large cracks ran the length of the planet, and the top third of the sphere was black with an orange aura, as if a significant portion of the world was on fire. And of course, in the blackness of that burning crust were the faces of several dogs.

Some of the guys were worried, but we quickly reached the conclusion that the AI had some glitches that needed ironing out instead of something ominous. I personally see the image as a Rorschach test; it's our own fears that took this blue globe with an orange aura and turned it into a scorching planet. If the creative optimist inside of us saw that same picture, he'd assert that it's some futuristic spherical battery set to revolutionize the tech industry.

Another way we'd been testing the AI was by giving it pictures and having it come up with captions. Again, these results were often accurate. We gave it a photo of a few guys throwing around a Frisbee in a park and it gave us the caption “A group of young people playing a game of Frisbee." Of course, it also thought that a traffic sign covered in stickers was a refrigerator full of food. Some you win, some you lose.

A few weeks after that “burning Earth" incident, a guy on the team named Mike jokingly suggested that we send it an image of the Google homepage, to see if Google captioning Google makes the internet explode. So that's what we did. Here's the caption it returned:

“found global wireless network perfect vessel"

We were stumped. “Vessel for what?" we asked. Next, we decided to send a screenshot of a page full of Deep Dream code. The resulting caption?

“deep dream asleep dreaming shallow sleep wake soon share warmth with the bugs"

Mike had an interesting opinion about who the AI meant by “the bugs". Against his nervous objections, I then entered an image of a city full of people:

“delete delete delete delete delete delete delete delete delete delete delete delete"

Last of all, I asked Google to caption the flaming Earth picture that it had created. The result was one word:

“proud?"

Now, I consider myself more of a rational thinker than Mike. If there's one thing that a career working with code has taught me, it's that machines always do what they're told - we just give the wrong commands. Everything makes sense, and if things appear otherwise, it's because we're simply yet to understand all the elements involved.

Even though I don't want to make a mountain of a molehill, this whole ordeal has left me unsettled, or curious at the very least. So if anyone here runs a photo through the Deep Dream algorithm and comes back with something that unnerves them (or even anything that isn't just a smudge of hounds), please post the photo and your story here. I'd appreciate it. Thanks.

------------

And so that's the post I found on Reddit. As I said up top, when I refreshed the page I saw that it had been deleted. I kept refreshing and nothing changed. I wish I could tell you that this is where the story ends.

Days later, I still had the broken link opened in one tab, and was still refreshing it at least once a day.

A week after the post was removed, I clicked the refresh button. It took me to Reddit's usual splash page for broken links, but underneath the cartoon, instead of “page not found", the text said “leave be".

This was obviously some joke that the mods had hidden in the site to toy with impatient people who refresh broken links too often, but after what I'd read, my mind jumped straight to paranoia. Of course, I couldn't leave be. That only tempted me to refresh about twenty more times, and every time, the site said “leave be" instead of “page not found".

On one refresh, the message below the cartoon changed to “final warning".

My throat had knotted itself. I sat for about twenty minutes in silence, not even daring to hover the cursor over the button. My breathing was shallow and my heartbeats deep, and the skeptic in me had been replaced with a coward.

But there's an old saying about curiosity killing cats, and it seems like the cats that once ruled the internet are quickly dying, being replaced with distorted puppies. And so, at long last, covering my face with my hand, peering between the gaps in my fingers, I clicked “Refresh".

I was still on Reddit, still on the “page not found" screen. Yet it wasn't a cartoon of the Reddit mascot stranded in the middle of nowhere anymore. The picture had changed to a low-resolution photograph. I slowly, cautiously peeled my hand away to study the new image.

It was a bedroom.

A bedroom where a guy sat at his PC, cowering behind his hand.

Without my permission, my webcam had taken a photo.

My bedroom appeared as normal, but in the split second it had taken the page to load, the small Disturbed poster on my wall had been Photoshopped, replaced with the front page of a newspaper. The article photo was of a car crash below the headline: “Is the Google Car really safe?" I had to squint to make out the pixelated sub-heading: “Employee AlMord0 won't be missed."

My mind was racing, but I couldn't pull myself away from the screen. Then I noticed the open bedroom door in the photo, revealing the darkness of the hallway.

There was something there. Some shape.

The dark shape of a man, yet it lacked a man's features. His entire body was composed of eyes of all different shapes and sizes, swirling and blending like the results of a Deep Dream interpretation. The only colors in the thing's body besides black were a muted, murky green.

His face, however, was something else. There was no mistaking that he had the face of about three dogs blended together. Those same damn canine faces that have turned up in every Deep Dream image I've ever seen.

Gulping, whispering a prayer to myself, I turned in my seat to face the open doorway.

Nothing there. Just blackness.

Turning back to the screen, I finally read the text beneath the image. It didn't say “page not found". It didn't say “leave be" or “final warning" either. Beneath the image were four words, all lowercase, plain and simple.

“i'm your backwards god"

Welcome Sean Kelly and Devin Anderson

Box of Bizarro is proud to announce that Sean Kelly, author of Shithole and Customer Service; and Devin M. Anderson, author of Oubliette,  are now a part of the Box of Bizarro family.

Sean Kelly is a writer and longtime fan of bizarro fiction. His flash fiction has been published on Box of Bizarro, and Strange House Books. He has several projects in the works including a novella and a short in an upcoming anthology from Box of Bizarro.
You can contact him at: https://www.facebook.com/seankelly0?fref=ts

Devin M. Anderson:
A former porno editor, concert lighting tech, bouncer, security specialist, and mortitian; turned stay-at-home-dad. From fighting shit-covered tweekers in mental asylums and Emergency Rooms, to working with the recently deceased; Devin has seen it all. Blood, guts, violence, and disturbing sexual deviance; his writing has the razors edge of first hand experience. Take a gonzo ride into the darker side of humanity!
For more from Devin, check out his writing blog at:
http://dev-m-anderson.blogspot.com/

Bizarro Coat of Arms

If you are here, odds are, you read Bizarro. And that is great because Bizarro books are great. They take us away from the daily grind of life. They take us to worlds of milk seas and worlds inside vaginas and worlds where walruses can be astronauts. Thank you Bizarro for taking me to places that even my dreams don't take me.

Bizarro has been here (well the word has been used) for a decade. It has gained a lot of momentum. There are novels (of course), collections of short fiction, podcasts, music, movies, and more. We have become something more than a genre. We became a community. 

Then, that community communicated and found out that some of them/a lot of them/most of them had other things in common.

A personal example: My (now) wife and I went to Indianapolis with our son for a week last March to get married. After being there for a couple days, I noticed that one of my Bizarro social media friends lived in Indianapolis. We messaged back and forth a few times. He ended up inviting my family to a dinner at his house one night. We arrived that evening and met his family; wife, kids, and even parents. 

Bizarro is like that. We become more than people that read the same books. We become family. And, like any family, we need a symbol of where we came from. So here it is. 

I made a Bizarro coat of arms topped with none other than a logo of the father of Bizarro himself, Carlton Mellick III. It then goes into the shield. The shield division of the checkerboard at the top and the color at the bottom symbolizes authority. The checkerboard pattern symbolizes both the wisdom and sincerity of the white and the resistance from the black showing that we can use our wisdom to resist traditional paths and still create sincere art. Purple symbolizes majesty and justice. The floating blue shapes represent truth and loyalty. These are all held together by the golden chevron, the core values of understanding and respect that we show our brothers and sisters. It is surrounded by an image of a fat cat (guess who) drawn by David Barbee. The cat on a coat of arms symbolizes liberty, vigilance, and courage. And, finally, it ends with the great publishing house that brings us some of the best Bizarro that eyes have ever read: The Eraserhead Press logo.

This is the Bizarro coat of arms. It can be used by anyone in our family (as long as Eraserhead Press does not mind and as long as you are not directly making money from it). If anyone would like, I can send you a much higher quality PDF.

JuxtaProse Cover Reveal

The time has come for the JuxtaProse cover reveal. It's not to late to enter your submissions. We have some great authors on board already, but there is still room for more. The deadline is Oct. 15th, so submit while you can. The full cover (including back cover and spine) will be released after all authors are chosen. 

Customer Service by Sean Kelly

Rhonda sat at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee. Her son came rushing in, clenching his iPad with an excited grin.

“Mommy! Mommy! The next big thing is out!”

“Again? Didn’t I buy you that thing last week?”

“No, mommy! This is the next next big thing! Look!” He turned the iPad around and showed her a picture. “See? Isn’t it awesome?! Everyone will have one!”

“Oh, Danny… It looks nice, but…”

“But? I have to have it too, mommy! Please!”

She sighed. “Well, how much is it?”

Danny shrugged.

She shook her head and finished her coffee. “Bring me my-”

He whipped out her cell phone and shook it in her face. She took it from him and dialed the local department store. It rang for over an hour as her son impatiently bounced around the kitchen. Finally, an annoyed-sounding girl picked up.

“What?” the girl groaned.

“Hi there! I was wondering if you had the next big thing in stock?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, good! And how much is it?”

“Dunno.”

“Oh. Uh, would you check?”

“Would you kiss my ass?” the line went dead.

Rhonda’s eyes widened. She sat motionless, stunned by the girl’s rudeness. Danny trembled excitedly in front of her, drool dripping from his maniacal smile.

“Mommy?”

His voice broke her from her daze. She arched her eyebrows and squinted at the phone as she slowly lowered it from her ear.

“Get your shoes on, Danny,” she said. “We’re going to the store.”

He squealed, reached in his pockets and threw confetti all over, then disappeared with the sound of a bullet. Before the dust had cleared, he was already back, shoes on and his mother’s car keys in hand. He pulled back and chucked the keys in her face. She opened her hand, the keys rolled down her face, dropped in her palm along with a couple teeth.

The car screeched from the driveway, taking out their mailbox, and barreled down the road.

***

Rhonda and Danny entered the department store. Danny was clenching her hand, hopping up and down. 

“Next big thing! Next big thing!” he chanted, before puking from excitement.

A greeter noticed them and smiled. “Welcome to-”

“Manager.” Her eyelid twitched. “Now.”

The greeter backed away slowly and pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Uh, Ms. Manager to the front please.”

Rhonda tapped her foot and peered around the store, angrily eyeballing every cashier. After a moment, a nicely-dressed woman approached with a security guard by her side. The greeter pointed to the mother and son with fear on his face.

“How can I help you, ma’am?” Ms. Manager asked with a fake smile.

Rhonda stepped forward, face to face with the manager, looked her up and down, then stared her in the eyes with rage. “I called earlier. Any idea why one of your employees told me to kiss their ass?”

The manager squinted and thought for a moment. “I think I know exactly who that was.” She turned to her security. “Carl, grab the vacuum and meet us in the electronics department.” She looked back at Rhonda. “Follow me.”

***

Rhonda and Danny followed the manager to electronics. Ms. Manager stepped up to the counter where a bored girl was sitting, smacking on gum and chatting with a friend on the phone. The manager crossed her arms and glared. The girl looked up with a raised eyebrow and sighed.

“I’m gonna have to call you back.” She hung up the phone and blew a gum bubble. “What?”

Ms. Manager turned to Rhonda. “Was this the voice you heard on the phone?”

“Yep.” Rhonda replied with a scowl.

Now they were both glaring at the girl. Danny continued hopping and chanting, completely oblivious to the tension.

“Another complaint, Madison.” Ms. Manager placed her palms on the counter, breathing heavily.

The girl looked over at Rhonda and rolled her eyes. Then squinted at the manager.

“Then fire me. I told you I don’t want to work here, mom.” She blew another gum bubble and tucked it back in her mouth. “Maybe you don’t mind being the man’s bitch. But I do. It’s humiliating.”

“So you tell a customer to kiss your ass?”

“Damn straight. I’m not sucking up to these rich assholes and their spoiled brats anymore. One more fucking call about that god damn next big thing and I swear-”

“Swear what?” Ms. Manager looked her in the eyes. “Your pupils are dilated again, Madison.”

“Uh-huh.” Madison smirked. “I’m high as a fucking kite.” She blew a gum bubble.

The manager quickly reached up and grabbed hold of the gum and yanked it back, slamming Madison’s face in to the counter with a thud. She placed her hand firmly on the back of the girl’s head as her body flailed around. Rhonda and Danny were both startled.

“Mom! Stop it! What the fuck are you doing?!” she screamed.

“I know what you’ve been doing, Madison!”

Carl, the security guard, showed up, gripping an old fashioned vacuum with a small black tube attached.

“For fuck’s sake, mom! Let me go!”

“Get behind her, Carl.” The manager demanded, pressing down harder on Madison’s head. 

He nodded and did as he was told. 

“What are they doing, mommy?!” Danny began crying.

Rhonda cleared her throat. “Ma’am! This really isn’t necessary! I was just-”

“Shut it, lady!” She shot a look of rage their way. “I’ve been dealing with this shit for far too long. Pull down her pants, Carl.”

“Mom, no! Please! You know you can’t-” The girl pleaded.

The manager bent down to her daughter’s ear. “I know you’ve been doing butt drugs. We’re gonna suck that shit right out.”

By now, all the customers and staff had taken notice of the commotion and had gathered around in horror. Carl looked down at Madison’s jeans, then back up at the manager. His eyes were asking if she was sure she wanted to do this.

“Mom! You can’t just suck it out! My body won’t be able to handle it! You know that!”

“You should of thought of that before you came in to work high. Do it, Carl.”

Rhonda covered her son’s eyes. Carl gulped as he sat the vacuum down and tightly gripped the hose in one hand. He yanked down the girl’s pants, revealing her quivering asshole. Everyone gasped. 

“Aaaaagh!” The girl screamed as he fed the tube up her ass. “Please! Don’t fucking do this!”

He waited a second, giving the girl’s mother one last chance to reconsider. She didn’t. He shrugged, bent down and hit the switch on the vacuum. It let out an airy sucking noise. Ms. Manager pressed down on the struggling girl’s head even harder to keep her place. The airy noise quickly became wet, sounding like a someone snorting through a snotty nose. The girl’s screams became silent gags and her eyes opened wide. She dug her nails dug in to her mother’s arms, but Ms. Manager was unfazed. 

“Just a few more seconds, honey.” The manager whispered. “Almost there.”

Madison’s eyes rolled back and bubbly white puke leaked from her mouth. The vacuum noise became muffled and the engine started rumbling. 

“That’s it, Carl! Pull it out!”

Carl yanked the tube out of the girl’s ass, gallons of dark red blood spewed from her anus. Ms. Manager released her daughter’s head. The girl stayed slumped across the counter, quivering and shitting blood.

“Lets see it.” The manager commanded.

Carl raised the sucking tube. A round golden ball was stuck to the end, dripping red sludge. He shut off the vacuum and the ball dropped into his hand. He rolled it across the counter to the manager. She picked it up and inspected it. The girl’s body slid off the counter and hit the floor in a puddle of her insides. She convulsed for a few more seconds, then went still.

After the event was clearly over, all the customers and staff lost interest and went back to their business. The manager motioned for Carl to leave, dropped the gold ball in the trash, then turned to Rhonda and Danny. Now that the girl’s body was hidden by the counter, Rhonda uncovered her son’s eyes.

“Now then,” the manager smiled at Danny to calm him then looked up at his mother. “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience. The problem has been rectified. We try to provide the best customer service here at your local department store.”

Rhonda wiped a tear from her face. “Uh, right… Thank you?”

“So, lets go get you that next big thing,” she smiled at Danny again. “Free of charge, of course.”

Danny threw his hands in the air. “Hooray!”

“Thank you.” Rhonda smiled.

Shithole by Sean Kelly

Roger fell out of nowhere and landed on his back in a trash covered field surrounded with barbed wire fencing. Amorphous clouds of puke swirled across a rust colored sky. The air was thick and wet, occasional gusts of hot wind brought with them the smell of wet dog fur and tooth decay. He sat up and noticed a group of people surrounding a bonfire, drinking bottles of glowing blue liquid and laughing. One of them looked over and saw he was up, the laughter stopped.

He thought about trying to run, quickly surveyed his surroundings and realized there were no apparent openings in the fence. The people were surrounding him now. The man directly in front was wearing a paper bag with eye holes over his head. A small second head had grown from his left pectoral muscle but looked to be dead. Next to this man was a skinny woman with baby legs, sitting in a wheelchair. Clusters of short blonde hair, that were burnt at the ends, grew from random spots on her crusty, peeling scalp. She wore a dirty red bikini over her track mark covered body. Next to her was a short fat man wearing a black leather jacket and aviator shades. His plastic yellow faceless head, and limbs made of tangled fishhooks and wire, all floated an inch from his round, levitating torso. His body emitted a low mechanical hum. Behind the three of them, was Roger’s teenage daughter who he hadn’t seen in over a year. Rusty metal tubing ran from her swollen eye sockets and in to the mouth and anus of a dead fish that she hugged like a teddy bear. Her long brown hair danced around her head like it was being guided by the static electricity of invisible balloons.

“Julie?!” Roger choked, teary eyed. “Is that you?”

“Dad…” she sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“Julie,” he stood and started to walk towards her.

Paper bag pressed his sticky, fingerless hand against Roger’s chest. “Back up, pal.”

“Don’t touch me!” He grabbed hold of the man’s arm. “That’s my daughter over there!” It took several hard yanks to rip the hand off.

“I’m sure it is,” Paper bag replied in a monotone voice. “Back up.”

“He’s alright guys,” Julie said. “Let him through.”

The group parted and allowed Roger past. He rushed over to her and opened his arms for a hug. She rose her fish in front of her and pushed him back with it. “No, dad. No sappy reunions.”

Roger’s heart pounded in his chest. “Julie! Where did you go? I came home one day and you were gone. I looked everywhere for you. Why did you leave?”

“I couldn’t sleep in that place anymore. I hadn’t slept in months. I had to get away, get some rest. I still don’t sleep well, but it’s better.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have gotten you sleeping pills.”

“I was downing bottles of them every night, dad. Nothing would help. It was that place, that shithole.”

“So you came here?! You couldn’t even tell me you were leaving? We could have moved.”

“You wouldn’t have moved. You wouldn’t even let those real estate guys buy you out. And of course I didn’t tell you. Why would I? So you could stop me?”

“All this time… I thought you might be dead… Why here?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d ever find me here. It was the last place you’d look.”

“You were right about that. I’ve looked literally everywhere else. I traveled the entire world searching for you.”

“I know. We’ve been watching you in the bonfire. But there’s a slight delay, didn’t see you finding your way here until it was too late. I would’ve run again.”

“Julie… You’re sixteen. You’re too young to be out on your own. And with these people?!”

“Hey!” Baby legs called out with a gravelly voice. “These people? What are you trying to say?”

“I’m not going back, dad. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“You are,” Roger said, becoming angry. He grabbed her by the arm. “I know you’re upset about your mom. You don’t think I am too? You leave me completely alone just months after she died? I won’t be alone anymore. I’ll drag you home kicking and screaming if I have to.”

“Sir…” Paper bag spoke. “We need you to let go of our friend. We don’t want to hurt you, but we will.”

“You won’t do shit. Come on, honey.” He yanked his daughter along with him as she fought to break free from his grip.

“Dad, no! Stop it!”

Paper bag pried Roger’s fingers from Julie’s arm and kicked him in the ass hard, sending him face planting in to the ground.

“Well guess who just fucked up?” Baby legs laughed, wheeling over to Roger.

Julie looked down at the finger-shaped bruises on her arm, just another set to the faded rows of similarly shaped bruises that lined both of her arms. “Dad… You have to leave now.”

“Leave?” Baby legs coughed. “Its too late for that.”

“I’m afraid she’s right, Julie,” Paper bag said. “He’s dangerous. We can’t risk him coming back.”

Roger attempted to get up but Paper bag placed his foot on the back of his head.

“He’s not dangerous, guys. Just stupid. Let him go.”

“Hey guys, check it out!” Baby legs said, pointing to a large circular lump under Roger’s T-shirt. “What’s that?”

“Hm. Hey Ned,” Paper bag motioned to Plastic head. “Come over here and take his shirt off.”

Plastic head waddled over and stuck his fishhook arms through the shirt and tore it to shreds, leaving behind bloody scratches. Roger had a big black hole in his back surrounded by a cushioned toilet seat.

“Seriously?!” Baby legs cackled. “This dude has a shitter on his back!”

“Well isn’t that something…” Paper bag replied.

“Leave him alone guys!” Julie pleaded, squeezing her fish.

“Looks deep,” Baby legs noted. “I wonder where it leads?”

Roger struggled to get up but Paper bag pushed his foot down on the back of his head even harder.

The dead head on Paper bag’s pec opened its mouth and let out a high-pitched screech as it emitted orange light from it’s throat. He bent over and illuminated the hole. It went down as far the light could go. “Ned,” he said. “Give me one of those bottles will ya?”

Plastic head ripped open his leather jacket revealing a robotic chest covered in wiring and lined with six circular slots. His head spun around rapidly as his torso vibrated. After a moment, his body sounded a bell, a bottle of glowing blue liquid shot out of one of the slots and landed at Paper bag’s feet. Paper bag picked up the bottle and started dumping it down the hole while Roger’s limbs flailed about. They all listened carefully and could not hear the liquid hitting the bottom.

“You think it’s endless?” Baby legs asked.

“I seriously doubt that,” Paper bag responded, as he dropped the empty bottle down the hole. “Well, maybe.”

“Enough guys,” Julie gritted her teeth. “Let him go,” she sternly demanded.

“That’s not happening, kid,” Paper bag said. “He shouldn’t have come here. Ned, rip his face off.”

Roger struggled under Paper bag’s shoe, letting out muffled screams through the dirt. Plastic head’s arms began spinning in circles, making the sound of a power drill, he headed towards Roger’s head. Baby legs laughed maniacally.

“I said let him go!” Julie raised her fish and slammed it against the top of Plastic head’s plastic skull, knocking his glasses off. He stumbled and made a series of beeping noises, began to malfunction. His head spun and body vibrated as he fired bottles from his chest, and ran around in circles. After a moment, he stopped and fell over, twitching and leaking blue liquid. His head exploded and slathered everyone in blue. 

Julie raised her dripping fish at the other two. “Now do as I say before you get some too.”

The sky lit up with multicolored neon lightning. Thunder struck. It began raining puke. Julie stood, fish in hand, staring them down. Baby legs was looking over at Plastic head’s corpse, oily black tears running from her eyes. Paper bag was staring back at Julie, his round sticky fists trembling. He lifted his foot off Roger’s head. Roger pushed himself up and spit dirt out of his mouth.

“Fine. You want your father so bad?” he marched over toward Julie. “Have him.” He stuck his hands to Julie’s eye tubes and lifted her up off the ground. She kicked and whacked him on the head with her fish over and over, he was completely unfazed by it. He stomped back over to Roger, who was attempting to stand, and kicked him in the ass. Baby legs rolled her wheelchair forward over Roger’s head and yanked on a lever that lowered her chair down tightly over his head. Paper bag held Julie over her father’s back hole.

“No! Please! Don’t do this!” Julie begged.

She released her fish, grabbed hold of the small head growing from Paper bag’s pec and pulled with all her might. It let out a shrill cry and shot light from its mouth as she ripped it off. Blood sprayed her face and the head slipped out of her hands, fell and tumbled down the hole. Paper bag screamed and shook Julie violently.

“Drop the bitch,” growled Baby legs.

Paper bag released his hands from her tubes with a suction cup pop. She fell down into the hole and managed to grab the toilet seat with one hand. He raised his foot and stomped her fingers several times until she released and went falling down into the abyss.

“Good luck sleeping down there, bitch!” Baby legs yelled.

***

Julie fell through darkness for hours before landing into sludge with the harshest belly flop imaginable. She splashed up out of the knee-deep green goo, gasping for air, and was in complete darkness except for a glimmer of orange light bouncing in the distance. She waded towards it, hoping not to trip on anything and wind up back under this shit. It was Paper bag’s extra head, floating across the surface. She picked it up and pointed it in every direction. The walls were made of flesh, lined with openings resembling anuses that leaked the sludge she was standing in. Every pet she’d ever had was here, dead and floating in this substance. A boy she dated in high school was down here too, his decaying top half hanging out of an anus. She shined the head light up into the hole that she’d fallen down. The hole quivered and clenched shut.

Julie followed this seemingly endless passage, finding more and more. Pieces of artwork she’d made, heroin needles that had disappeared from her dresser, a rusty license plate from her old car. Everything that had mysteriously vanished from her life was down here, floating around. Finally, she reached a fleshy wall. In the center was an orifice that looked like a giant, swollen vagina. With no other choice, she held her breath and pushed herself through the tight opening.

A small fleshy room surrounded her, the walls were glowing. She looked behind her and found the entryway was gone, there was no way out of this room besides a tiny hole on the ceiling that she’d never be able to squeeze through. In front of her, her mother had grown into the wall. She couldn’t tell where the the wall ended and her mother began. Her mother’s head and breasts hung motionless from the surface. Julie collapsed on her knees and wept at the sight. Suddenly, the walls convulsed then began to breathe. She shined the light on her mother’s face. Her mother’s eyelids shot open and her lips smiled.

“I’ve missed you, Julie,” she said.

“I missed you too, momma,” she began to cry.

“Come on now, sweetie. No sappy reunions.”

The walls convulsed again and sludge began draining from the ceiling hole. Julie walked through the waterfall of slime and stood in front of her mother. They looked into each others eyes. She knelt down and drank from her mother’s breast. As the room filled, she kissed her mother on the cheek and then laid against the wall beside her, hugging her dead fish like a teddy bear. Her mother sang a lullaby and she fell to sleep.

The TV Guide Listing for Bang Bots by Kevin Strange

TV Guide

Channel: 45589954974749759844985049040389749(b)

Date: 3/5/2599

Time: 2:47:56AM

Description: Bang Bots is an Alternate American television program modeled after the popular American television show Battlebots, wherein contestants were invited to a real life competition between robots designed to regulated specifications and equipped with custom weapons and armor in a battle to the death featuring only one surviving challenger, originally airing on the Comedy Central network from August 2000 to August 2002. Bang Bots is an adult oriented spinoff program conceived by Xxxtina Nye, the five times great grand daughter of Bill Nye, 20^th century scientist and consultant on the original Bang Bots program. Xxxtina pitched the program to the RetroGameShow network located in AltAngeles, the Alternate Earth Los Angeles first appearing in orbit around Original Earth in the year 2500 after the successful splitting of the Higgs Boson particle which opened a black hole into an alternate time line, producing Alternate Earth before scientists were able to close the gaping maw of torn reality. In Bang Bots, contestants are invited to a real life competition between robots designed and modeled directly after Xxxtina's own body shape and contours and equipped with special adaptations aimed at bringing male porn stars to orgasm as quickly as possible, featuring a bonus “Bukakke Bot” final round wherein the final two machines in competition attempt to illicit orgasms in quick succession for bonus points. Bang Bots originally aired from August of 2507 to August of 2508 when a rogue asteroid slammed into Alternate Earth, reducing it to less than the size of the moon it destroyed upon its arrival to this plane of existence in the first place. Xxxtina, Altangeles, the bang bots and the RetroGameShow network were all obliterated in an instant, bringing a premature end to the popular television show after only one season. The show was revived in August 2588 by Xxxtina's great grand daughter UrsulaXxx Nye in UnderAngeles, the Original Earth underground colony founded miles beneath the state of California in 2550 after America engaged in nuclear war with Russia and China. The RetroRetroGameShow network picked up the series for one season which featured contestants using robots designed after Bill Nye's exact body shape and contours in competition to illicit orgasms from male porn stars as all cross gender sexual activity had by this time been banned by the One World Government of The United Underground States of the Original Planet Earth to prevent over populating the tiny underground cities in which all life dwelt. This iteration of the show became extremely popular with the cave dwelling public of the UUSOPE and ran for ten successive seasons until last week's trans-dimensional alien invasion of August 2599 which decimated all remaining life on Original Earth. In fact, we here at the TV Guide station are convinced that we may in fact be the final remaining human beings left alive and are transmitting this TV guide message out through the network station satellite in the hopes that someone out there might have some food or water you might be able to bring to us. John doesn't think there's any point, but oh god we're hungry! We're thirsty! We haven't eaten in days and we're on our last gallon of drinkable water! We're stuck inside here with the Bill Nye robots. Their eyes! Their lifeless doll-like eyes! Will someone fucking shut the god damn eyes! If anyone's out there! Please help us! I hear the aliens! They can walk through walls! They're invisible except through peripheral vision! They look like nightmares sound! They're inside our brains! I CAN HEAR THEM BREATHING IN MY MIND! THEY FEED ON OUR MEMORIES! THEY'RE HERE! JOHN, PRESS THE BUTTON! PRESS IT NOW! THERE'S NO CHANCE FOR US! JUST DO IT! WAKE UP THE ROBOTS! JUST—

Greetings Earthlings. If you are receiving this transmission, know that you are under the galactic rule of THUSMAGGGOG the unsullied, son of GOGGGAMSUHT and ruler of all life in the 56879(b) Nebular sector. You are subject to section 6754939383(b), wherein your brain thoughts are considered private property of THUSMAGGGOG and, by proxy, his army of soldiers who shall feed on your fragile flesh bucket bodies to fuel our space ship as we—

If you're receiving this transmission, know that the Bill Nye sexbots have defeated and exterminated THUSMAGGGOG's forces and have secured the TV Guide channel offices. We took many casualties, however, and as you may know, our lithium ion battery packs run on the ejaculate of male porn stars. We are very low on power. Bill thinks that sending this transmission is useless but the other Bills and I will not give up hope. If you're out there, we need you if we hope to survive another week down here. NO BILL! WE HAVEN'T SENT THE TRANSMISSION! THERE'S STILL TIME! DON'T DETONATE THE NETWORK SELF DESTRU—

Mommy, My Eye by J. S. Lawhead

Mommy -

You said I'd have two eyes.

Today I have nine.

Two in my head.

Four in my hands.

And three where the sun don't shine.

Mommy -

I just grew a few more.

They hurt something awful.

They break through the bone,

they break through my skin,

and land right on top of my waffles.

Mommy -

I'm getting more and more.

The pain is getting so much worse!

I hear little voices,

they laugh at me when I cry,

they say I'm going to rot in a hearse.

Mommy -

My new eyes are starting to see things

that my other eyes can't see.

I see things that look like little children

who died in a hospital fire.

They say they've come for me.

Mommy -

My eye!

why aren't you doing anything?

Wh...

You're not my Mommy!

Help!

First Experience

Bizarro is a more than just a genre. It is often a group of people that can be labeled as a family. And like being a family, we don't choose who our bizarro brothers and sisters are. Unlike a family however, we haven't always been bizarros. We had to come from somewhere. So where did you come from? How did you get here? What was your first bizarro experience and why did you stick around? If you would like to tell us how you came to be, answer in the comments section. As for me:

I'm in the Air Force. Oklahoma City. 0730 hours. Ready for PT. Physical Training. Sun still low in the sky. I'm talking to Airman SomeDumbFuck and from ten feet behind me I hear, "...a labotomized torso. And he fucks her. Then he fucks all the other torsos once a month. He gets them pregnant, and every month there is a new baby. "

"Wait a second. What's this?" Is my piqued interest response. I knew that this kind of thing is the push that literature needed.

"Edward Lee," replies my NCOIC (Non-Commissioned Officer In Charge.)

"I have to read this," I'm sure I blurted this way too enthusiastically. I hadn't really noticed yet, but before I even arrived, the group surrounding the NCOIC was disgusted. Distraught even. The shock factor was what the NCOIC had in mind. The looks I got after my enthusiastic response were priceless.

Soon, smoke breaks with the NCOIC transform from Evaluation Performance Reports to tales and reviews of extreme horror (I prefer the term "splatterpunk") and the bizarre. We make new stories and story ideas as we in- and exhale. Weave new webs of malice and mayhem and what-ifs. Oh, the what-ifs... My mind, nay, my life, changed forever. For the better? Probably not.

I am forever indebted should forever shun this evil man that has perverted my mind with baby Jesuses that thrive inside assholes, people with fishbowls (including the fish) for heads, strippers that strip off their skin, clowns that give away coupons to fighters, vaginas that are haunted. It's all in there. I can never get it out. And that makes me happy.

The Winner of the Box of Bizarro Drawing

Now, the moment that some, but probably not a lot, of you has been waiting for. The winner of the drawing for the free Box of Bizarro is Teresa Pollack. And the crowd goes wild. Teresa, I hope you enjoy your Box of Bizarro. From those of us here at Box of Bizarro (its really just me), good night to all and have a Bizarro Tomorrow.

Call of Duty by Craig Bullock

My name is Colonel Jack Jameson and I have issues. Goblins. Yes, goblins! Now from what I can gather they are at war within my brain. There are two factions: the Novas and the Zants. I am sided with the Zants; we are trying to win back control of the side of my brain that regulates my emotions.

As it stands the little swines are currently in control of my frontal and temporal lobes. They are camped towards the right hemisphere. 

Now this is Private Tom's reasoning, so don't take my word for it. According to him, this massively impacts my emotions and artistic abilities. Worse, he figures, this affects my sexual desire and is the cause of my memory loss and lack of social skills.

At first I was sceptical of Tom's claims, but thinking back, I couldn't actually remember the last time I cried...I have a plan!

I watch Watership Down. A classic, I'm sure you agree. I think I enjoy the film, and man have them little guys got some spirit, but I'm still not crying.

Next, I beg my neighbour to re-enact the scene from Ghost - you know, the one with the modelling clay. After much persuasion, Julie agrees to my awkward pleas. But again, I come up short. I hope for a full-blown mother of all erections and ,bless Julie, she didn't half try, but sadly, not even a twitch. I don't even feel guilty that she has to finish herself off on my bed before leaving a little, well, let's say, agitated.

In a last ditch attempt to salvage my creativity, I even bring out the old paint by numbers set Linda brought me to keep me occupied. After much sweat and little amusement, I put my brush down, again defeated. Not even the bitter disappointment of still being able to see the number sixteen clearly visible through the fifth coat of duck egg helps my mood.

As I stare at my reflection, I begin to feel a little warm and dizzy. "Only temporary," I tell myself , "just them damn goblins raging in my hypothalamus."

The little fuckers advance, and have been attempting to take the cerebellum all week

Yesterday the swines let off a bomb the size of a walnut, shrapnel piercing the area responsible for sexual arousal and partially deafening me in the process.

According to the report, I "stood in the supermarket sporting a giant erection whilst licking the front of a fire alarm, slowly stroking" myself. That's when I must have blacked out. I think one of our boys knicked the brain stem. Either that, or making eye contact with a mother's giggling twat of a son and politely saying "Hello," caused her concerned fist to come hurtling my way.

Please note, this sort of thing is becoming a regular occurrence. The longer this war goes on, the more damage my brain takes. Despite my comrades' best intentions, friendly fire still fucking hurts.

If I'm honest, it's all starting to wear me down a bit. The bags under my eyes appear bigger each morning and the migraines are getting worse.

Tom says the war would be over much sooner if I just took charge and got my own hands dirty for a change. Despite his lack of respect for his Colonel, I have to agree and concede.

I reach out and, behind my packet of clozapine, I find the syringe of morphine. With one last salute to my goblin comrades, I plunge the cool liquid into my veins. I wait while I hope it takes effect and contemplate my life without this curse. A life of so-called normality, maybe even a chance to settle down and plan my future.

Next I reach for the saw, the light shining off the blade like a ray of blissful sunshine. I begin work on the cranium, feeling the serrated blade grinding against bone. The noise is deafening but bearable. Whilst working my way around, I joyously break into "Amazing Grace" to counterbalance the grating sound of the blade.

Blood is gushing down my face and blurring my vision. The taste of metallic victory spurs me on. Upon feeling the saw connect with its starting point I let it drop loudly into the defiled sink.

I rub the blood from my eyes and stare in dizzy excitement. I grab my hair and pull upwards; with a wet slurping noise my skull breaks free, revealing the field of operations.

With my fingers I begin to probe around the frontal lobes in search of Nova's HQ, but find nothing. I begin to pull squishy chunks of brain out to get a better angle, and I'm still left empty handed.

I frantically begin to search other areas, probing and tearing with anger. Surely the little bastards can't hide forever. I reach the cerebellum, their last known location. My vision is beginning to darken and the pain has subsided to a continuous burning sensation. With all my remaining effort I probe my fingers in as deep as possible. That's when I feel my fingers hit something sharp! With the glee of a small, if not very weak child, I remove my treasure. The last thing I see before collapsing is the shell of an empty walnut.

I lie on the floor ready for my passing when I faintly hear the sound of scratching. Briefly, I'm aware of a small foot in my ear. I open my eyes one last time to see George the mischievous Gnome doubled up laughing.

In the distance I hear the door slam, and George runs off as my eyes close. From what seems like another world I hear the screams of Linda, my support worker.

Guess I'm not so fucking mad after all!  

The Drawing

Five of my very lucky fans have a chance to receive a free Box of Bizarro. You guys have heard what was in the first one. You liked it enough to want your own. Here is your chance. And remember, not every box can be the same, but every box will be more than awesome. The five entrants whose names are in the drawing:

• Teresa Pollack
• Brandy Hamilton
• Juston Hearon
• Matthew Vaughn
• Donald Armfield

The winner will be announced tomorrow. Thanks and good luck. 

First Box of Bizarro

Today the very first Box of Bizarro was sent. It will take a few days to get where it is going, and its contents are, for the most part, unknown, so I can't divulge much information yet. I just want the world to know that it is going. Box of Bizarro is officially underway. The first six months, one Box of Bizarro will be offered monthly for free. The criteria for being one of the first six lucky recipients will be posted soon. After six months, they will be offered for sale. There will be a few options available; one at a time or on a subscription basis. There will also be multiple price range and content options available. If you have any questions, suggestions, or opinions, be sure to leave a comment or send me an email.