The Veil War

"and then I was like, 'Holy crap, goblins!'"

Month: March, 2026

March 13, 2026

By way of a status update

So my estimate of the amount of time I’d have available to devote to writing was sadly typical in that it was wildly over-optimistic. Work projects ramped up far more than expected. The bathroom exploded (not literally, thank God) and I had to replace the toilet, install cabinets, replace the drain pump in the washer, and generally flail as effectively as possible at the problem. I’m helping #1 son start a business. Und so weiter…

Mind you, this isn’t whining. Things need to be done and for the most part I’m glad to do them and I feel a warm glow of satisfaction as they fall off my list. While I’d certainly be appreciative of infinite time to work on things, being busy is far better than the opposite.

Yet I haven’t forgotten this! Here’s another installment of Mumbles adventuring in the wilds of western PA, and I put another chunk of Episode 3 to bed this morning.

Oh, and another thing that got done: I revivified and brought back to life my old blog The Ministry of Minor Perfidy. So now even though I have two places to not post things, today I’ve posted on both – which I believe is the first time that’s happened since maybe 2013. I even got former minister and friend of Veil War Ian Healy to come back and post something. Will wonders truly never cease?

Hopefully not!

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March 13, 2026

Subcommandante Mumbles v. The Dinosaur Nazis, Episode 2 (Part 6)

I held the wheelie for a long moment and dropped down. I tapped the front brake and let the rear of the bike spin round. I leaned hard left, my knee just inches from the pavement.

Time slowed, like it does. I saw the boss mustache’s eyes widen with surprise. He hit the brakes, too hard. He flew over the handlebars and his bike cartwheeled after him.

I laid the bike down. The pavement ate through my ratty clothes in an instant, and the harsh scrape as it filed away my armor made my nuts want to relocate to my throat.

My bike skidded into mustache number two’s, dropping him and the bike both. His WWI open-faced lid absorbed the worst of the impact, but then he skidded on his chin for another dozen yards.

I rolled onto my back and raised my feet. With bent knees, I crashed into mustache number three. My left foot hit his knee, my right his bike’s front fork. I was probably only moving at 20 mph by now.

The sudden shock of impact wrenched my whole body. That’s going to hurt later, I thought as my spine tried to corkscrew out of my back. I absorbed a lot of the hit with my legs, but still I flipped over the bike, airborne and flying at the fourth and last mustache.

His bike weaved sharply back and forth as he braked madly to avoid the wreckage of #2 mustache. I flailed through the air, arms windmilling. For a fraction of a second I tried to tuck into a ball, but realized it just wasn’t going to happen. I gave up and kept flying, thrashing all the while like a retard superman.

My lower back struck the biker’s head with dull thwack as my armor hit his helmet. That spun me again, and I did a an awesome back flop onto the payment. The air whooshed out of my lungs.

I watched a crow fly overhead as my diaphragm fluttered ineffectually. I tried to stand, but just couldn’t move. Horns blared as cars screeched to a stop to avoid the accident.

Except, it’s really not an accident when you crash on purpose, is it?

With a raspy wheeze, my lungs finally sucked in a ragged gulp of air. I stood up, and drew my Glock. I walked over to mustache #3 and and placed the front sight on the bridge of his nose.

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