Sunday, July 17, 2011


Confessions of a Virgin Sacrifice is not available on all ereaders. Here's a random sample to get you started:

Pitching Woo.

True to his word, Thor overtook us at dusk. The three of us were setting up camp for the night by a small lake that Lestor referred to as The Lake of Complete Blackness. I decided not to ask him how the lake acquired that romantic title.

Thor had no news, nor supplies to show for his absence. I remember thinking, what in the worlds had he been doing all day? I assumed he was galloping around the countryside, enjoying himself. I realize Thor was just some Barbarian we had picked up along the trail and he owed us no debt. But at the time, his non-performance really ticked me off.

“Have a good day, did you?” I fixed him with an icy stare.

He gave me a curt nod, which vexed me even more.

“Do anything interesting? Ransack a village? Dismember a ferocious animal with your bare hands? Anything?”

The Barbarian turned and cocked his head towards me. The strong and silent routine was really grating my nerves. And, to tell the truth, I was used to more attentive men.

Thor had at least accomplished one task. He dragged a fresh swinehog carcass into camp. Lestor, Diz and I skewered it with a stick and began to roast it over the fire. The outer meat was beginning to crisp. Thor’s sword was leaning against a stump, so I grabbed it to shave down the roast. Thor immediately strode across the camp and wrenched the sword from my grasp.

“Whah?” I was caught off-guard by his abruptness.

“No one but a true Barbarian may touch Sphere.”

“You named your sword Sphere?” I said with a giggle.

“I did not name the sword. It is The Last of the Sphere of Swords to the Lost Barbarian Kingdom of Spewlazor.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that. But why do you call it Sphere? If it’s from Spewlazor it seems you would call it Spew.”

“Look.” Thor briskly raised the sword, causing it to make a little zinging noise as it sliced through the air. Imbedded in the handle was a small orb of crystal. Pinpoint flashes of orange light continuously danced in the ball like lava spurting from a volcano. “This orb symbolizes the Sphere of Swords.”

“Yeah, but that orange stuff keeps getting tossed around in there. It is constantly being spewed in the crystal. I think the real name of your sword is Spew.”

“If you value your life, you will never touch the sword again!” Thor shouted in my face.

“That's it. I absolutely don't need men who name their swords yelling at me. I'm out of here,” I said abruptly. “Diz, do what you want. Have sex with one of these oafs, stay celibate, throw yourself in the volcano; it's up to you. All I know is, I've got to go.” With that, I marched out of camp and headed in the general direction from which we came. The others gawked at me in stunned disbelief.

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