S.H. Roddey

In two weeks, I’ll be at Fandom Fest.  I’m excited, as is everyone else I know who plans to attend.  Yesterday a friend of mine announced that the table she and another friend purchased has recently become all hers, which means I get to crash in on her!  Not that I have anything to sell, mind you.  I just like feeling important by sitting at the tables.

I’ve been in catch-up mode for awhile now.  I also feel the need to announce that I’m submitting for four different anthologies – two as me and two as my alter ego.  I also have one stand-alone story under contract for a September release and another that was accepted for an anthology to be released in October.  The literary life is pretty good.

My almost five-month-old is now eating people food instead of just formula.  We discovered that she loves carrots.  We also discovered the other night that she enjoys making big messes with food just after having a bath.  Rotten, rotten child.  But what can I say, really?  She’s mine, and I would expect nothing less than precocious.

And just because I’m feeling froggy… here’s a snippet from one of the WIPs.  This one we’re calling “Wolfie.”  You’ll see why in just a minute.

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The little blonde bimbo’s guts tasted pretty good.  Yeah, I’d rather eat a brunette but when it’s that time of the month I’m not very picky.

She came skipping down the road with her little, red cape flapping along in the breeze.  I know, I know… its cliché for the wolf to go after the girl in the red getup, but let me tell you, this chick was just slobberin’ for it.  That poor excuse for a skirt she wore barely covered her ass, her stockings were torn to hell and back, and that slip of fabric over her tits?  It wasn’t even enough to make her decent.  I very highly doubt she was on her way to grandma’s house for a picnic. Grandma’s whorehouse maybe… and I doubt it was cookies she carried in that little, red bag of hers.  Still, she was clean and smelled pretty, and there were no discernible diseases.

So I romped my way through the woods down the side of that road and when she stopped to adjust the top buckle on her bright red hooker-boots, I pounced.  Took her down with a neck-snapping bite and laid her out in that tall grass. Then I ripped her guts wide open and had a fine meal. I certainly ain’t afraid to eat a bitch…it’s why I’m so well-suited to this lupine syndrome.