Why I Write:

Image acquired from the Internet Hive Mind via ifunny.com
Why I Write:

Image acquired from the Internet Hive Mind via ifunny.com

Image acquired from the Internet Hive Mind via ifunny.com

Amazon Cover
Esther Freisner has been the go-to humor fantasy writer if you wanted to see traditional gender expectations turned on their heads. Her Chicks in Chainmail series feature women rescuing men, including the recent seventh book of this anthology series “Chicks and Balances.” The second anthology series she heads is suburban fantasy, things like what happens when the soccer mom is also a witch? Again the focus is on quirky humor as the title of the second book of the series indicates: Strip Mauled.
She recently has started a Young Adult (YA) series on princesses of myth – girl power stories set in history. If you think your teen might like some inspiration on how to be a princess AND a warrior, you might like to look into Spirit’s Princess and other princesses of myth.

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Rating: Mature (Language)
Tyler liked his cousin DeShawn alright most days; the money had rolled in since he had gotten superpowers and started knocking over banks. But kidnapping Power Fists’ mother? That was fucking serious. Still true ice when DeShawn boosted Power Fists cell phone during a fight and returned it same dust after decrypting and duping it. Serious balls on Black Rod.
Being about midway up in Black Rod’s gang, Tyler scored guard duty in the room with the captive. Just not in the middle with the four gang lieutenants. Okay by him. Shadows along the wall suited him fine. He was trusted family and got important shit like picking up the old bitch. Bastards could keep their superpowers; put the idiots on the front lines when Power Fists tripped the trap. Those bros were going to take some bruising before they brought him down.
The dork got the phone set up with that freaky six-way speaker mike crap for main-man business rooms. Tyler straightened up, lifting his streetsweeper to bad ass position. The machine gun was set to three bullet bursts to save on ammo, but he was ready to flip it to full auto when the show hit town. He tried to ignore the homeless cart ranch behind him ditzing on his cool. He kicked butt today and was ready for some more.
The conference phone was set loud, so Tyler hear it as it began ringing. Black Rod knew how to set a scene. The only strong light was on the center of the derelict store, highlighting the leaders and the bitch. Damn that woman had evil eyes glaring over the duct tape. When the snooze gas had worn off in the van, she had struggled like a cat in a bag, but by the time they got her indoors to the chair for Black Rod she was chill. DeShawn had only zip-lined her wrists in her lap.
Tyler’s gut said that was not enough. But the boys got Powers. It’s all good, he told himself.
Someone answered the phone. “Hello, this is Mel.” Everyone snickered quietly.
“Hello Mel,” DeShawn’s voice carried throughout the cavernous room. “I can call you Mel, right? This is Black Rod. I have your mother.”
“What the fuck?!?”
“Really, is that the language you use in front of your mother?” inquired DeShawn smoothly. “Let me put her on.”
Bloodband, who had been standing behind the woman, ripped the tape from her mouth. She screamed as bits of her lips came away with it.
“Mom! Oh God, Mom, are you okay?”
“Melvin, boy, you better come right now!” The gray-haired woman shouted at the phone. “Don’t you go making me rescue myself! I will slap you so hard your dentures will be rattling when you’re seventy!”
Fuck, Tyler blinked. No wonder Power Fists was so bad ass.
“Mom, it’s okay. I’m coming to get you.”
Okay, maybe Power Fists is a pussy.
“Damn straight you are.” The hag commanded. “I’ve got an appointment with Tamika in four hours and I better not miss it. These nails don’t do themselves.”
“Where are you?” Tyler could hear wind from the speaker now. The superhero was flying.
“Locust and Grant – look for a boarded up store with a huge pineapple. Marcus tagged it good.”
“What the fuck?!? Put that gag back on!” Black Rod yelled as he slammed the conference off button, destroying the device with his super strength.
Bloodband tried to retape her mouth, but the woman twisted sideways. “What? You idiots don’t think I wouldn’t recognize the store?” Strike came at her front to hold her in place for Bloodband and got rewarded with a kick to the balls. “Shopped here for years. Best bargains on meats in the city.” She swung her head back, breaking Bloodband’s nose.
The fucker had spent a dime before the Change and picked up two tears; he dropped like a stone.
For some reason Power Fists breaking through the ceiling did not scare Tyler half as much as the superhero’s gray-haired mother standing up. Sure her hands were still tied, but the bitch had already eliminated two of the Powered before getting out of the chair. Tyler threw the gun away and crawled to the old grocery cart corral, hoping to hide as the concrete and bullets started to fly.
(Words 716 – first published 1/16/2013; published in new blog format on 1/1/2017)

Image Courtesy of artur84 at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Cheryl hummed happily as she unwrapped a cracker for April. Her baby immediately started working on it with her limited teeth, making a gummy mess.
The weekend had been wonderful, just her and her husband, with the added bonus of the children spending quality time with their uncle. Having breakfast out after picking the kids up was the perfect end to the perfect weekend, giving them time to be a family before jumping back into never-ending chores and work of a two-career household. These were the memories to last a lifetime.
The waitress finished taking Joe’s order and asked “Anything for the child?” she said nodding to Scott sitting neatly in his booster seat.
Cheryl smiled with parental pride at her oldest. “I think he is old enough to order his own breakfast.”
“Okay, little man, what would you like?”
“I want to devour the unborn.” Scott carefully enunciated and spaced words, his volume only slightly less than his normal four-year old tones.
Cheryl looked at the waitress mortified. Her cheeks flushed when she realized most of the diners had heard his request. The nearest two tables stopped eating and turned to stare at her family. No one could have misunderstood what he had said.
When looking for support, she discovered her husband had covered his mouth with his hands. His whole body was shaking and tears were escaping the sides of his eyes. Cheryl shot death towards him, until he calmed enough to remove his hand and translate. With only a slight gasp he said, “Eggs, he want eggs.”
The waitress nodded cautiously before asking the boy, “And how would you like them cooked?”
Proudly Scott said. “Shattered and beaten with the juice flowing forth.”
Joe’s grin widened until he saw his wife’s face. After rearranging his features into a sterner expression, the father relayed, “Scrambled but runny.”
The waitress scratched the order down. With a wince, she asked, “And what would you like to drink, little man?”
“Utter madness.”
Joe’s head tilted as he considered the request. “… aha, Scott, do you mean ‘Udder’?” He clearly pronounced d’s.
Scott nodded several times. “UD-DER madness.”
Turning to the waitress, Joe let her know, “He wants chocolate milk.”
The woman quickly retreated to the kitchen.
Cheryl hissed at Joe, “Your brother is NEVER to babysit again!”
(words 386 – first published 4/10/2013; republished new blog format 7/3/2016)