Welcome to the first episode of Creative Crackdown with your favorite lesbian cat duo, Nacho & Snowflake. Here, they give honest feedback on this month’s Dark Fiction Bodega short story and other current artistic endeavors from various mediums.
Odd Little Suck
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January 4, 2025
It all started when Ma caught me out in the pasture talking to the cows. She cried to Pa that night. She wept for hours, screaming about how my relationship with my bovine friends was unnatural, and Pa seemed to agree. News of my friendships spread through our little town like a flame through Pa’s brush pile. Folks would see me as they passed by our far…
Odd Little Suck is the story of a college student who talked to cows as a young boy. The story details his parents’s struggle to rid him of his psychosis, his struggles to find himself as he grows up, and the horrifying discovery he makes when he returns to the family farm for the holidays.
This month, Alexander asked me to read and review his latest short story: Odd Little Suck. Well, I wouldn’t say I was asked, as much as extorted. I was snoozing in the laundry basket when he approached me and said if I didn’t start pulling my weight around here he’d withhold my tasty catnip treats. What a fucking Nazi. So, here I go, on a jaunt through the mind of a psychopath, to appease his neverending need for attention.
Good Lord, where do I begin with this one? Please give me the strength.
Odd Little Suck is a story not quite like any I’ve read before. The main character, Bobby, is a pathetic little sack whose mama has him tortured by a two-cent, small-town psychiatrist so he’ll stop talking to the cows on their farm.
What the serious fuck?
I mean, this kid finally makes a friend who’s worth a damn and this bitch decides to fry his prefrontal cortex. But, I’ve found this typical of humans. Having been a roommate of one for eight years now, none of the self-serving crap surprises me anymore, like being asked to contribute to this trashy vanity piece for instance.
What did I love?
Nothing. But I did like the cows. I’ve always dreamed of wearing my roommate’s skin as a body suit, so, good on them for that. But, the mom’s shitty blue eyeshadow? —wouldn’t have worn it. That slab of flesh would’ve been cleansed through the garbage disposal so no one would have to suffer it ever again.
What gets me off here?
Marry K. Marry K. Marry K. She’s a goddamn saint. She politely ate Bobby’s shitty ratatouille, and after, had the decency to take off his pants and pop his pathetic little cherry. Listen, Emma. When you’re through with college, I’ll meet you back in Nebraska, fix you a salmon carpaccio that will knock your socks off, and you won’t have to take off my pants, because I won’t be wearing any. Me-Ow!
-Snowflake
Jack White is most well-known for his collaboration with bandmate Meg White in the band The White Stripes, which was founded in 1997. I’ve always loved The White Stripes and still listen to their music to this day, nearly thirty years since their inception. In 2011, Meg and Jack went their separate ways, and The White Stripes’s reign came to an end. Since then, Jack has had a successful solo career and has been in a handful of bands. Most notably, The Dead Weather, and The Raconteurs. While I loved both of those bands and his solo stuff, none of it ever hit quite like The White Stripes did.
Why is ‘No Name’ so important?
This is the first time in Jack White’s solo career that an album has given me The White Stripes level of excitement! Yes, I feel like a teenager again. Jack White is back, baby. I bought the special edition blue smoke-colored vinyl record in November 2024, and have listened to it constantly since. It’s not good, it’s great. ‘No Name’ is the perfect marriage of blues and punk rock, and showcases Jack’s abilities to craft nasty hooks that you can’t get out of your head. I love every single song on the album, but of all the greats, my favorite is ‘Bless Yourself'.’ The wife and I are planning to catch the ‘No Name’ tour at the Mission Ballroom in Denver, Colorado on May 9, 2025. I couldn’t be more excited for the show, or to see what Jack White’s creative future looks like.
If you want to check out the album, you can purchase it directly from Jack White’s own Third Man Records
Hello, there! My name is Nacho. When Alexander tapped me to contribute to Dark Fiction Bodega, I was like, fucking finally!
I’ve spent years sitting on the headrest of the couch, reading the cliche-ridden garbage he calls his ‘stories.’ I’ve attempted to express my opinions and provide constructive feedback, but alas, my expertise falls on deaf ears. Now, I finally have the opportunity to show the world what true taste is. Sit back, relax, and allow me to dissect the latest creative endeavors out there. You’re welcome, world.
Let me start by saying, Jack White is the mother fucking man. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, I’d still scratch a bitch.
Jack White’s newest studio release hits hard as always but harkens back to his The White Stipe’s days, which I love. He’s still awful preachy, but in a—I don’t know—I guess, more fun, relatable, less preachy way. Stop screaming at me from atop your throne gilded throne, bitch! Just kidding. You know I love you, Jack. I’d have a litter of yours any day.
What twists all six of my nips (not in a good way)?
Jack is notorious for being overtly preachy in his solo work. That’s actually the reason I’ve shied away from his solo work until now. The thing that pissed me off most was when he started telling concertgoers to put their phones away when they were filming him during shows. I mean, are you kidding me, Jack? Don’t be a prick! You’re an entertainer. If someone spent their whole paycheck to take a date to see your concert, and probably won’t even get a blowie because their date is so depressed after being lectured by you for two hours, let them take a quick vid so they can show off to their ‘friends.’
Why this new album has me absolutely pussy-jacked (it’s a cat thing)…
Jack has taken at least two steps down from his throne. He’s focusing more on crafting music that cats love, which he is so fucking aptly capable of, and rocking the shit out of it. His guitar riffs are sooo heavy, and sooo dirty that I seriously just can’t with him right now. Fuuuuck. So hot (yes, I swing both ways. All ways, actually. If there’s a way, I fucking swing it baby)! I mean, have you seen that man strum, can you even begin to imagine those belly rubs?
Thank you for reading. This publication doesn’t pay me shit, so my new OnlyFans page is currently under construction (link in coming episodes). Pretty soon, all you lucky bitches can access pictures of my paws at a grotesquely generous rate. Stay tuned, people!
-Nacho
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