John J. Vinacci

Starter Villain  by John Scalzi’s is my follow up read to his lighthearted Kaiju Preservation Society . From beginning to end, Starter Villain is packed full of soft (and sometimes sardonic) humor with a side of social commentary as it follows Charlie, a destitute, down-on-his-luck ex-business journalist turned substitute-teacher. Charlie’s only asset is the house of his late father, which really belongs to his siblings as well who want him to move out so they can sell it. Other than his faithful cat, Hera, life sucks for Charlie. After Charlie’s estranged uncle dies and leaves behind his fortune, allegedly attained from his parking garage empire, Charlie’s contacted by his uncle’s assistant who informs him that it was the final wish of his uncle to purchase his house from the family trust and gift it to Charlie outright, but only if he stands for his uncle at the funeral. And that’s when the fun begins. Charlie soon realizes there was more to his uncle’s life than being a parking...

* With Halloween 2022 fast approaching, here's a reprint from 2016. Enjoy the meal.   Laying here in wait With elegance and grace I’m patient as a clock With a little time to waste; I sharpen up my dagger Oh, would you like a snack? I invite inside your naïveté With a motive to attack.   “Come into my parlor,” Says this spider to your fly My tangled web of silkiness Betrays you, it’s a lie! I promise not to laugh If you promise not to cry When eventually you realize You’re my dinner guest tonight.   Now don’t mistake my nonchalance For arrogance my friend That’s the way the game is played At least inside my head; It’s nothing particularly personal Fate plotted this collision This poisoning of your luscious body With absolute precision.   Goodness, are you still moving Can I offer you a mint? I’m not good at condolences Much less at being friends; I assure you that it’s futile I sense you sense the end ...

I hate these goddamn things. If I never go to another funeral it’ll be too soon.   Chuck’s mother is crying. She’s always crying. Everything’s a fucking Hallmark moment with her. Or do I mean Lifetime Special? My thinking gets cloudy in these situations, situations where you need to find some words of consolation, but words escape you. So I put my hand on her shoulder but it doesn’t ease her hyperventilating. It’s no use. I slip my hand in my pocket and fumble around. I need a cigarette.   I’ve smoked for a long time but I don’t need a cigarette; it’s just something you do in these situations when you can’t think of anything to do or say. It’s a distraction. There’s something comforting in the habit. I don’t even have to look; I’ve done it so many times I can slide a cancer stick out of the package and bring it to my lips like I’m on autopilot. I can even bring fire, the lighter, to the tip of the cigarette based on muscle memory alone. I thumb for the chick chick of...

  “Welcome to World News Today. I’m Che Colin,” the mocha-skinned anchor spoke, the reverb in his voice muted by his full-face military-grade gas mask.   “Alarming news out of France tonight, where scientists have discovered a new variant of SARS-CoV-2. They’ve dubbed it the Hugo-Unger-Gachet, or HUG, variant. Maya McKinnon reports from Paris.”   The screen cut to a petite woman with frizzy hair bopping a microphone against her similarly upgraded gas mask’s filters. “My apologies Che as we get used to these new masks in hopes of preventing infection,” she started before taking a moment to survey the street. It was deserted as was the café in the correspondent’s background. A few people in their windows above the street pulled back their curtains ever so slightly to monitor the situation as well.   “The latest variant as SARS-CoV-2 is the most contagious yet, largely due to its method of transmission,” she continued. “Once infected, a patient displays the ...

“They are going to love this pitch,” Brad said with his head pitched towards Maven.   “How could they not? Everyone is doing multiverse stories right now. But not quite like this,” Maven answered calmly.   Brad, for a moment, though that was odd. Maven hated pitch meetings since the pair’s ideas were usually rejected. On the other hand, they did have a really good idea for once. A few screenplays in hand, Brad opened the door for his writing partner and the pair entered the movie executive’s office.   The office in Hollywood Hills overlooked a large swath of L.A. The smog wasn’t too bad today, the sun almost shining through. Even Mr. Eichmann’s lackeys looked like they didn’t have their usual sticks up their asses today, though there was never hope for Mr. Eichmann himself. At least not yet.   “Alright you two. Knowing your record so for, unless you wow me right off the bat, this is going to be a quick meeting. What do you have?” The old man didn’t ev...

As I lay at the foot of the warm, cozy bed, a familiar scenario has come to a head.   “Well, look at the time. I believe that’s a five. Food in my bowl is not far behind.”   I will chew on this wire as I so often conspire, to wake daddy up – “Don’t sleep!” I interrupt.   I will paw daddy’s face ‘til his slumber’s erased. I’ll meow ‘til he gives in, because I’m a prick.   “Fill ‘er up,” I demand, my bowl to its brim. “I am so hungry and this cat waits for no man.”   “Rise, rise!” Our fates are entwined. The clock has struck five, eating is my life.   Ah, daddy stirs and looks at the wall. “It’s two in the morning, you little bastard,” he retorts.   “A two or a five. So I’m not good at reading signs. But since you’re awake, feed me. I’m hungry. Don’t let me die.”   “Alright,” he concedes. Alright, indeed. He’s not the dumbest of all humans, it’s the futility he sees.   “Here you go, now leave me alone,” he gi...

  Twenty-something Joe stepped out of his townhouse into the sun. Spokes of light bent their way around the few marshmallows in the sky and brushed the skin of his face. A faint breeze kissed his lips. A few townhouses down, a car alarm bleated. This was as typical a city morning as one gets; in the city, there’s always a car alarm going off.    Joe and his neatly trimmed beard slipped under the cover of his knit beanie. It was still Spring after all and the sun wasn’t getting up so early that he was awake ahead of his morning coffee. Truth be told, Joe was never awake ahead of his morning coffee, which is why he was outside this morning to begin with. The young man’s day never really started until that bitter black elixir slid down his throat. What is consciousness? Coffee, if you ask Joe.   The millennial took a step off his porch and stumbled as if he’d missed the step entirely. He grabbed the porch railing before slipping down the stairs entirely. Was it ...