Weekly Column About Monsters – Feb 17th, 2018

Come On Down


Byline: A political prisoner

Dateline: February 17th, 2018


Hi, kids. This Barry Usmellin just reminding everybody that Gary Llewellyn will be appearing at the Laugh House in Des Moines on February 17th and 18th. Tickets are still on sale for the second show. You can get them at the box office, online, through Ticketron or through the mail via Kenbro (allow six to eight weeks for delivery).

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Weekly Column About Monsters – Feb 10th, 2018

The Miserable Life and Completely Deserved Death of Uncle Mort


Barry Usmellin

Uncle Mort woke that morning to the sounds of the birds chirping, having no idea it was to be the worst day of his life. Gary Llewellyn had marked him for death. It was only a matter of time. Mort went to his office like he did everyday at the same time; eight sharp. He went through the paychecks for the week, signing them with glee. He especially found joy in overpaying his obsequious toady, Hugo. His euphoria shifted into a smoldering malice when he came to the checks of Gary Llewellyn and Stephanie Morgan. He ripped them up and tossed them in his basketball hoop wastebasket, cackling all the while with unbridled glee. The was the 43rd week in a row he had done this. He didn’t know it would be his last.

Mort made a habit of strolling through the park on his lunch breaks. He took delight in the terror of the children as they ran screaming from the Rittenhouse Square skin thief, the malevolent Uncle Mort. For the braver ones, he would unsheath a serrated buck knife just enough to get the blade to glint sunlight in their eyes, promising to eat their mothers alive if he ever saw them again. Then he made of point of strolling to the shops while humming a baleful dirge, spending the money he otherwise would have used to pay his long suffering employees; GARY LLEWELLYN AND STEPHANIE MORGAN, on needlessly ostentatious bric-a-brac to hang on the walls of his dark oak office.

That day however, Mort didn’t realize he was walking into the trap of a one-man killing machine. A man after the only thing that matters to him in this cruel world; 43 weeks of back pay. Mort swung open the door to Some Asshole’s Gallery of Expensive Trash for Rich Douchbags. The bell dingled in the wind. The shopkeeper flashed a solid gold smile and chirped out an ass kissing salutation to her latest patron. Mort browsed the shop selecting items what’s prices would add up to precisely what he would have paid Gary Llewellyn and Stephanie Morgan. As he admired the curves of an antique French Provincial wardrobe, he pulled the doors open to ogle the inside. Out popped Gary Llewellyn, naked and crusted in mud. Gary drew his compound bow and unleashed a primal scream, letting his arrow fly. The arrow flew straight into Mort’s eye socket and pinned his empty skull against the back wall. The shopkeep died of horror. The End.

There you go, Mort. That’s my contribution to the contract negotiations. -G

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Page Five Ghouls – Feb 3rd, 2018

Past is Prologue

Byline: Gary Llewellyn

Dateline: February 3rd, 2018

What? You want to look at another Bigfoot or melonhead kid? How about a Dracula? Wolfman? A weird Malaysian fuck that butt rapes dudes in their sleep? We gave you about 50 monsters last year and an ‘epic’ battle against a lich, who happened to be my protege’s grandfather. I spent a couple centuries in Everywhen for this shit. Though if I had just stayed put it would have been instantaneous. That one’s on me. My point is, are we just going back to the old beat. Spotlighting weirdos for your entertainment. How about we investigate the ‘coincidence’ of why I was assigned to the monster beat with the granddaughter of the guy Uncle Mort was so worried about?

The guy has secrets. That’s a no-brainer, he’s undead, of course he keeps secrets. You think he’s going to run around telling everybody he’s been to the otherside and guess what there is no otherside. So stop wearing spiritual hairshirts and flogging yourself for the hope of some great reward after you eat it. Especially, stop forcing others into hairshirts because they do something that freaks out your fragile sensibilities and saying it’s some kind of mandate from an invisible man that a creepy fuck in a collar told you about when you were young and gullible. If you want to do that shit to yourself, it’s a free country, but just be aware nobody else is interested in sharing your uptight delusions. Well, it would be a free country if the Christian Right wasn’t fucking everything up on one side and PC shenanigans on the other, treating the savior of humanity like something they found on their shoes. Oh, I didn’t show proper deference to your sky daddy? I’m sorry did I use the wrong word to describe your niche existence I had no idea about until two minutes ago? You ingrates wouldn’t be here to complain about it if it wasn’t for old Gary.

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“Classic” SEG: Page Five Ghouls July 1, 2017


No Rain


Byline: Gary Llewellyn

Dateline: July 1st, 2017

No, people, you can’t leave Ohio without learning something completely awful. This time the grim toll for egress was the Melonheads. They are not a catchy, upbeat, sweater wearing band of the early nineties. These Melonheads are of the evil children variety. Now, normally I don’t fuck with evil kids, but these little motherfuckers have an off the wall origin story. It starts with a mad scientist named Dr. Crow who performed weird experiments on children. Metal as hell from the get go. The doctor would take these children…I don’t know how big their heads were from the jump, but the Dr. Crow would inject fluid into their heads which caused them to expand. I don’t think it works that way, but myths don’t operate on sense, they operate on belief. What is it in the psyche of Ohio that demands demon monkey science projects into existence? Or Connecticut, who made the little jerks into cannibals who live on Dracula Drive? In Michigan they call them ‘wobbleheads.’ The kids eventually burned down the orphanage Dr. Crow kept them in.

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“Classic” SEG: Page Five Ghouls June 24, 2017



The Grassman Goeth


Byline: Gary Llewellyn

Dateline: June 24, 2017

I have to admit, when I heard about this week’s monster, I got pretty jazzed, but then it turned out to be some bigfoot-type shit living in Ohio. The government supposedly rounded up all the bigfoot and sent them to Mars to activate the pyramid and terraform the planet. They say it’s breathable up there now. All those pictures NASA feeds us from the Curiosity. That’s Arizona, man.

Goddamit, I’m out of smokes. How many did I smoke? I gotta get Stephanie hooked on smoking so she has cigs I can bum. So there’s some stragglers and this one made it to Ohio and stopped for some reason. Another poor bastard ended up in Pennsylvania. Why didn’t they go north? What the hell’s in Pennsylvania? But then, if he kept going and crossed the river he’d run into a devil. Nobody needs that. I speak from experience.

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