Artwork, better chapter titles, selections from Horrors

Makefile

@@ -1,6 +1,7 @@
+SUPPORT = chapauth.sty
 STORIES = stories/*.tex
 
-horrors2.pdf: horrors2.ltx $(STORIES)
+horrors2.pdf: horrors2.ltx $(SUPPORT) $(STORIES)
 	pdflatex $<
 	pdflatex $<
 

chapauth.sty

@@ -0,0 +1,38 @@
+\def\chapauth#1{\gdef\@chapauth{#1}}
+\def\@chapauth{}
+
+\def\chapimg#1#2{\gdef\@chapartist{#1}\gdef\@chapimg{#2}}
+\gdef\@chapimg{}
+\gdef\@chapartist{\@empty}
+
+\def\@makechapterhead#1{%
+  \ifx \@chapimg \@empty
+    \vspace*{50\p@}%
+      {\parindent \z@ \raggedright \normalfont
+      \ifnum \c@secnumdepth >\m@ne
+        \if@mainmatter
+          \huge\bfseries \@chapapp\space \thechapter
+          \par\nobreak
+          \vskip 20\p@
+        \fi
+      \fi
+      \interlinepenalty\@M
+      \Huge \bfseries #1\par\nobreak
+      \ifx\@chapauth\@empty
+        % Nothing
+      \else
+        \vskip 10\p@
+        \Large \bfseries by \@chapauth\par\nobreak
+      \fi
+      \vskip 40\p@
+      }
+  \else
+    \thispagestyle{empty}
+    \hbox{}\vfill
+    \@chapimg\par\nobreak
+    \hfill\small Artwork by \@chapartist\par\nobreak
+    \vfill\hbox{}
+  \fi
+  \chapauth{}
+  \chapimg{}{}
+}

horrors2.ltx

@@ -1,4 +1,4 @@
-\documentclass[draft,10pt]{book}
+\documentclass[10pt]{book}
 
 \usepackage[papersize={397pt,614pt}]{geometry}
 \usepackage[T1]{fontenc}
@@ -7,6 +7,7 @@
 \usepackage[pdftex]{graphicx}
 \usepackage{hyperref}
 \usepackage[labelformat=empty]{caption}
+\usepackage{chapauth}
 
 \title{Horrors 2: Clever Title Here}
 \author{The Something Awful Forums}
@@ -18,15 +19,6 @@
   mos-qui-toes
 }
 
-% For specifying author
-\newcommand{\by}[1]{
-  \vspace{-20pt}
-  \begin{flushleft}
-    {\large by #1}
-  \end{flushleft}
-  \vspace{30pt}
-}
-
 \begin{document}
 \maketitle
 
@@ -105,6 +97,10 @@ and/or blood.  Stay strong, pukers.
 \newpage
 \pagenumbering{arabic}
 
+\part{Selections from {\em Horrors}}
+\include{stories/BenBiddick.The_Horrid}
+\include{stories/BenBiddick.The_Barn}
+
 \part{Bavarious Reasons}
 \include{stories/Batmanuel.The_Strang}
 \include{stories/Torgo_.Brian}

stories/A_Child_s_Letter.Yellow_Eye.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{A Child's Letter}
 \chapter{Yellow Eyes}
-\by{A Child's Letter}
 
 
 

stories/Akbar.Wicked_Wor.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Akbar}
 \chapter{Wicked Workout}
-\by{Akbar}
 
 
 

stories/Anal_Surgery.Satanic_Re.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Anal Surgery}
 \chapter[Satanic Red]{Satanic Red: The Third to Last Case of Detective Luke Bavarious}
-\by{Anal Surgery}
 
 
 

stories/Assless_Chaps.The_Mosqui.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Assless Chaps}
 \chapter{The Mosquito of Death}
-\by{Assless Chaps}
 
 
 

stories/Barometer.L_B___V_H_.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Barometer}
 \chapter[L.B.; V.H.E.]{L.B.; V.H.E. (the extended directors cut, with deleted scenes)}
-\by{Barometer}
 
 
 Luke sat in the dimly lighted corner of an underused and

stories/Baron_von_Eevl.The_Horrid.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Baron von Eevl}
 \chapter{The Horrid Realization}
-\by{Baron von Eevl}
 
 
 

stories/Batmanuel.The_Strang.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Batmanuel}
 \chapter{The Stranger. Bavarious.}
-\by{Batmanuel}
 
 
 

stories/BatsBjorg.The_Horrid.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{BatsBjorg}
 \chapter{The Horrid Beginning of It All}
-\by{BatsBjorg}
 
 
 Eleven-year-old Luke Bavarious stood frozen in the doorway to his

stories/BenBiddick.Grandma.tex

@@ -0,0 +1,52 @@
+\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
+\chapter{Grandma}
+
+All she did was sit in that chair. She was my grandma. Grandma
+Packard. She was the old hag of her town. Everyone hated her and
+everyone was hated by her. She never left her house and I guess she
+never left that damn chair. I was fifteen when it happened and I hadn't
+seen her out of that old rocking chair my entire life. The chair was old
+and rickedy and creaked when it rocked. I'd think that the creaking of
+that chair would drive her insane! She hated me dearly. She never showed
+any love or affection to me, but to all the other children she did. That
+was the reason I hated her so much. She never had time for me. All she
+could do was drool and sit in the rocking chair. Yes, I hated her. Right
+to my soul. I had such an incapacity for her. I hated her at a higher
+level every time I saw her. It just kept rising. She was at least ninety
+something. I really didn't care to know anything about her. She shared
+her love with no one but her grandchildren---with me the exception.
+
+I was glad when she died. She never left that chair---she even died in
+it. It was pitiful. Her weak heart had finally given up.
+
+We inherited the house, and we had to make major repairs and we had to
+have major cleaning sprees, but I could finally be free of her evil
+sneer that shook me with uncontrollable fear. How I hated her.
+
+I had to have that room. Not by choice believe me. The room she had
+rocked her heart to death in. I quivered at the thought of living in it,
+but I had to since my little sister and brother were afraid of it.
+
+It was the first night to sleep in it: the room. I had my covers totally
+concealing my body---a habit I had developed in my days as a toddler. The
+moon was unusually bright and the light showed through the thin blanket
+because I had placed my bed by the window. I soon fell asleep.
+
+I opened my eyes. I thought I heard footsteps in my room. Was it mother?
+I saw the shape of a woman pass through the moonlight interrupting the
+flow onto my blanket. Sweat broke out from my back and fear swelled
+inside my stomach. I wanted to scream for help, but I was too terrified.
+
+``Eddie Packard, why did you hate me?'' asked a woman's voice in a
+taunting tone.
+
+I was too horrified to answer. I heard a thud that sounded like the
+woman was placing something on the floor. I gritted my teeth with total,
+terrible anxiety.
+
+``I know you're under there, Eddie,'' the voice crackled.
+
+I could not move. My heart beat so loud the woman must have heard it.
+
+From right next to the bed, I heard the familiar creaking of Granny
+Packard's rocking chair. She was going to drive me insane.

stories/BenBiddick.Human_Existence.tex

@@ -0,0 +1,51 @@
+\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
+\chapter{Human Existence}
+
+Rogue Davix looked at his arm. Just above the wrist, three large, scabby
+lumps bulged. They moved in and out, like they were being inflated and
+deflated again and again. The first lump increased the rhythm as each
+other lump formed. The first lump was going faster than the second lump,
+and the second lump was going faster than the third lump and so on. The
+flesh around the three lumps was cracked, flaky, and dry. Rogue squeezed
+his fist together in pain and wiggled at the burning pain. He squinted
+at the four men in lab coats. Why were they doing this? The four men had
+each given Rogue a shot and that was when these lumps had sprung
+up. Were they mad scientists? What the hell were they doing?
+
+``Stop this!'' Rogue screamed. ``Villains!''
+
+Purple liquid suddenly spurted from a tiny hole forming in the first
+lump. Three drops came out and dripped down the minute cascade. Yellow
+liquid suddenly erupted from the cracks in the flesh around the sores
+and spurted upward about a foot. One of the men in lab coats quickly put
+a beaker on the arm and collected some of the fluid. He took the sample
+to a small machine and poured it into an aperture where green light
+flowed from its opening. The scanner on the front lit up in strange
+markings that Rogue couldn't read. The four men watched it carefully and
+sighed at what they saw. One or two of them looked over at Davix and
+startled him as the expression cut through his pain straight to his
+soul.
+
+Suddenly, two more lumps began to be born. They pushed their way up and
+Rogue screamed in even more agony. After those, three more lumps began
+to push. They sprung up and the first two lumps exploded, throwing flesh
+and blood everywhere. A chain reaction happened and the lumps increased
+in creation. The lumps covered Rogue at an alarming rate. They exploded
+one of at a time. Rogue squirmed at the pain.
+
+One of the men in lab coats ran to a control panel and pressed a
+button. A transparent screen lowered in front and around Rogue. Blood
+and a variety of colors of liquid hit the screen and dripped down. Rogue
+stopped squirming and had uncontrollable tremors. His tongue stuck out
+and his teeth clapped down on it. The tongue bounced off Rogue's body
+and fell to the floor. His fingernails pushed their way back into his
+skin, squirting blood in spatters. Yellow liquid squirted a foot into
+the air from the dry skin around the exploding scabs. Rogue soon died.
+
+The men in lab coats all sat down and looked at the lump of flesh
+strapped in the chair. They sighed in disgust and one of them cried.
+
+``The destruction of planet Earth's environment and ozone is
+terrible. This species called human cannot live on our planet, the tests
+we have given show that. They will no longer exist. There is nothing to
+be done.''

stories/BenBiddick.I_Venture.tex

@@ -0,0 +1,47 @@
+\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
+\chapter{I Venture Down the Path}
+
+Militant. That is what I was, militant. Or was I insane? Inhuman?
+Demonic? I was created by militancy. Created with the emotions of hate
+and anger. Born with the desire to kill. Muscular cular and
+wild. Intelligent and lethal. Born and created with the love of
+suffering. The lust for dangerous highs. Fueled by the rushes of
+hate. Non-narcotic but just as addictive. The passion of no
+compassion. Murder at will with the utmost impunity.
+
+Impunity succeeds with the victim unwanted or uncared for. For instance,
+taking the life of a drifter, or homeless person. My prey was of that
+type which would succumb to me.
+
+My shadowy facial and bodily features were exposed to the filtered
+light. A streetlight's glow was seen through the many halls and
+passageways of the certain domains of the different entities of this
+cruel world. My victim was approaching.
+
+Some old, drunken man was walking down the alley. He was singing the old
+folk song, ``I Venture Down the Path.''
+
+I held the sides of my apparel so that the wind of the night could not
+flutter it. I stepped forward. My ductile muscles bulged with the
+anticipation of the rush. My teeth were observable as a smile presented
+itself upon my lips.
+
+The reeking man walked into me, for his drinking had impaired his
+vision. He stopped in the middle of his wretched song as he cursed me
+for being in his way. Hatred arose from my demonic soul as the man
+proceeded with his vulgar and insulting language.
+
+``I'm quite sorry,'' I snarled to the drunk.
+
+``You b-better b-be,'' he belched, releasing his foul breath.
+
+``Friend, it is you that I am sorry for,'' I bellowed.
+
+His expression was inquiry as I began to beat the poor fellow. He
+staggered and fell as I brutally struck him. My heart was alive with the
+beautiful feeling of hate and love; the love of hate.
+
+I stood up. The deed was done. I sucked in the night air and felt it
+flow through my body. The rush slowed as I wiped the blood from my
+knuckles. I began down the alley, the tune of ``I Venture Down the Path''
+whistling from my lips\ldots

stories/BenBiddick.Impatience.tex

@@ -0,0 +1,29 @@
+\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
+\chapter{Impatience and Curiosity}
+
+They said I was discontent with life. I forgive them though. Looking
+back on my life's ending, I weep. Everything wasted. How could they know
+why? They thought I was happy with life. They thought I loved every
+single one of them. They thought I was satisfied, they thought.
+
+The death of my body was self-imposed. I loaded a pistol, and put it to
+my head. Without any hesitation or fear, I pulled the trigger. My soul
+then retreated from my physical into into a terrible world of nothing.
+
+I do not know why I committed the act. My life was stable financially. I
+was soon to be married to the beautiful maiden, Annabel Lee. We never
+quarreled, so the cause of my death wasn't inspired by heartbreak. There
+was no forethought or common sense involved. Curiosity. Is curiosity
+with the after-death world an excuse? Curiosity wasn't the entire reason
+for my self-imposed death. It was also impatience. I couldn't find
+anything exciting. My assets had enabled me to travel. I had a nice
+house. Enough money for all the financial things. I had plenty of
+friends. Ones that cared for me, not only my money. I had my soon-to-be
+wife. I had my family. I'd run out of imagination to create goals and
+achievements. My brain then came across the thought of my only frontier:
+death. Would you call me insane.
+
+Now I just float here, in the darkness of purgatory, not doing
+anything. For what is there to do? I have long given up trying to get
+out. It is eternal punishment for taking away the most important thing
+God gave humans. I only with I could die again\ldots

stories/BenBiddick.The_Artist.tex

@@ -0,0 +1,63 @@
+The Artist
+
+
+The satisfied young child sat on his favorite chair with his pens and
+pencils. He squinted at the pain in his punched-in black eye. He shook
+it off and began to draw. The boy was the age of a third-grader. The
+silhouette of a man fell to the paper from the magic of his artistic
+hand. His expression was dim and solemn. Happy at being dim and
+solemn. His appearance was dim and shadowy. His hair matched his
+apparel: black. The color of night.
+
+The boy was talented. He could draw with the ability of a veteran. He
+had drawn since the first time his hand, equipped with pencil, scratched
+on the piece of clear, lineless paper. There were endless things to make
+with paper and pencil. Anything. He had progressed in his ability with
+every drawing he drew. Most sketches were of lonely, sad, grotesque, or
+terrible scenes.
+
+The figure on the paper was now fully drawn. It was a shadowy and dark
+figure. His long robe fluttered against him. He had a tail. The tail was
+a lashing terror and pain deliverer. The figure had an expression that
+cut right through you, right through you to your soul. The creature of a
+man held a head. It was bleeding and had the expression of fear, frozen
+there eternally with the instance of death. Now the boy had to draw the
+exact details of his bullying tormentor and the house in which his
+tormentor lived and the bully would be as good as dead.
+
+James McDaniels sat at home on the couch. His father lay there on his
+recliner, drinking a beer. He was drunk four Coors ago, but kept
+drinking. He always did. James stood and went out the door. He picked up
+a rock and threw it. He had to blow off some steam. His father's steam,
+which had been given to James with the drinking of each beer his father
+drank. A young kid walking up the road passed the house.
+
+``C'mere kid,'' James smirked.
+
+The boy reluctantly started to run. James ran to him and quickly caught
+him. James hit the boy as soon as the victim was in punching
+distance. James hit the boy just like the other three he had blown off
+steam with. After James was done, he let the boy up. Blood was running
+from the victim's nose and mouth. He got up and ran as fast as he could
+this time. James smiled. Soon enough though, James' happiness turned to
+sadness- his father was swearing at Jame's mother. He sat on the grass
+and began to cry.
+
+Just then, the door slammed behind him. James began to turn around. He
+hoped to God that it wasn't his father. He hoped it was his mother so
+they could run away from their father's publicly known case of
+alcoholism. It wasn't his mother. It wasn't his father. It was a large
+dark, shadowy man with a tail and a terrible expression. James
+stood. The man smiled smugly.
+
+James garbled, ``Who are y-you?''
+
+The weird man's tail answered the question for him. It flung at James
+with the speed of a lightning bolt. It struck James's face with the
+force of a semi hitting him at the speed of fifty-five miles an
+hour. James's head was completely torn off his neck. Blood showered the
+front of the house and the newly cut lawn. His headless body was thrown
+to the ground. Blood spewed from the neck as the torn blood vessels
+vomited their liquid.
+
+``Compliments of The Artist,'' the figure said as it walked away.

stories/BenBiddick.The_Barn.tex

@@ -0,0 +1,69 @@
+\chapimg{Discount\_Bees}{\includegraphics[width=\textwidth]{art/Discount_Bees-The_Barn.jpg}}
+\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
+\chapter{The Barn}
+
+The barn had stood for one hundred years and had been abandoned since
+the horrid tragedy that had happened there ninety-nine years ago.
+
+Jonathan Edwards leaned the pitchfork against the hay and wiped the
+sweat from his brow. The summer of 1891. Jonathan was a hard working
+farmer of rural Wisconsin and had been all of his life. He liked to
+work. His doctors had told him to watch the work because of his heart,
+but Jonathan ignored the warning and just kept on with the farmer's
+terribly hard work.
+
+Jonathan worked his way up to the hay mow and sat down when he reached
+the top. Movement caught his eye and by reflex his neck turned. It was
+Jonathan's son, Billy.
+
+``Hi, Daddy,'' Billy smiled.
+
+``Hi there, Squirt, wanna help me?''
+
+``Ya,'' Billy said with an enthusiastic smile.
+
+Billy was five and his dad was his biggest hero.
+
+The young boy walked to the specially made staircase that his father had
+made for him and began to walk up. Jonathan put a hand out to assist
+Billy but was suddenly overtaken by chest pain. A heart attack had a
+hold of Jonathan. Billy's smile quickly turned to a frown as he heard
+his father's shoulder snap and crack with the impact on the rim and
+ledge of the mow and staircase. Billy's neck exploded with blood vessels
+popping out.as he screamed for his father. In a matter of seconds,
+Billy's dad would be killed as he fell on the upturned pitchfork.
+
+``Dad!'' Billy screamed again.
+
+This couldn't be happening. Jonathan twisted in the air as he fell,
+falling with his back to the ground.
+
+``Son,'' he choked in the air.
+
+His arm was outstretched as if to block the sight that would take away
+Billy's innocence.
+
+Jonathan landed on the pitchfork with a terrible force and made a
+grotesque sound that would make his son puke. Four small rusted spikes
+tore up through Jonathan's chest. Jonathan's overalls began to turn rust
+with the presence of gushing blood. Jonathan's arms moved back and forth
+as he was suspended a pitchfork's height off the ground, making it sway
+forward. Jonathan's feet hit the ground at a diagonal angle but had no
+muscle in them---there was too much pain. Jonathan felt his buttocks hit
+the floor next, shifting the pitchfork inside of him to tear more organs
+and tissue. It made a terrible sound that resembled a burp. Jonathan
+arched his neck to look at his boy and opened his mouth as to say
+something. His larynx was interrupted from making any vibrations as a
+waterfall of blood lifted through it and out Jonathan's mouth.
+
+Billy felt his stomach tighten and push. Putrid smelling vomit emitted
+from the boy's mouth and nose into the air toward the wriggling man on
+the ground below. It splattered on the chest of the dying man and mixed
+in with the blood with the stench of death.
+
+Billy was later found insane. Two months later, he was found hanging.
+
+\begin{figure}[b]
+  \includegraphics[width=\textwidth]{art/necroid-putrid_smelling_vomit.jpg}
+  \caption{{\em Putrid smelling vomit emitted\ldots} by necroid}
+\end{figure}

stories/BenBiddick.The_Cough.tex

@@ -0,0 +1,42 @@
+\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
+\chapter{The Cough}
+
+He was so sick. He had a terminal disease. He vomited tears from his
+eyes. He threw up over and over again. He was always sweating. Sweating
+to the point of dehydration and delirium. The doctor couldn't find out
+what was wrong. He just knew that my friend was going to die. Anyone
+could see that! The doctor was dismissed from trying to help. He could
+do about as much as I could.
+
+I sat by my friend day and night. Crying and cursing right along with
+him. It was driving me insane. My friend was going to die and I could do
+nothing to stop it! His bed sheets were soaked with the odor and liquid
+of perspiration. He was rambling on, mumbling nonsense. What could I do?
+My brain! His body! He screamed with all of our agony.
+
+I prayed constantly to God, First I prayed that my friend would
+heal. After no letup from this horrid sickness, I prayed that the Lord
+would take my friend's soul so that I could rest! You call me inhuman?!
+You can never understand. You did not see your best friend frothing and
+foaming, sweating unrelentlessly, going to the bathroom on himself and
+laying in it for days! That is what is inhuman, not me.
+
+The idea finally sprang into my mind. I laugh with the thought of some
+rest from this terrible nursing. I giggled with delirium myself! I would
+be rid of this forever! Yes, I would do it!
+
+I grabbed a urine stained pillow from the floor and shoved it over the
+face of my friend. I first heard him choke and giggle, than in a few
+seconds that seemed centuries, his body tensed. He scratched at me. He
+tried to get the pillow away but he was too frail. Ha! He soon began to
+relax eternally.. Soon enough, the man was dead.
+
+I took the pillow from my friend's face. He had no pulse. His chest
+showed no movement. He was dead. Suddenly, a wave of depression and
+sadness drenched my body. I cradled my friend's sweat-soaked head and
+began to cry. He was so cold and so gone. He had died with his eyes
+open. I was too tired to close them.
+
+I staggered out the door. I would finally be able to rest. Oh, Lord
+forgive me, I could rest. What was that? Something peculiar sounded from
+the room behind me. It was a dead man's cough\ldots

stories/BenBiddick.The_Horrid.tex

@@ -0,0 +1,79 @@
+%\chapimg{art/Discount_Bees-The_Horrid.jpg}
+\chapimg{Discount\_Bees}{\includegraphics[width=\textwidth]{art/Discount_Bees-The_Horrid.jpg}}
+%\chapimg{Discount\_Bees}{Discount_Bees-The_Horrid.jpg}
+\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
+\chapter{The Horrid Reflection}
+
+
+I stepped from the shadow. The sound had come again. I was in the alley
+off 42nd Street in New York. My hand shook slightly with the loaded
+Beretta in my hand. The sleek pistol was loaded and cocked, ready to
+fire. I am a private detective. My name is Luke Bavarious. I like this
+work.
+
+People had been complaining about weird noises coming from the alley for
+about a year now and we finally decided to see what was going on. I was
+assigned to stop these noises.
+
+I edged into the dim light. I saw a dark figure sitting on a dumpster,
+facing away from me. He was sobbing and crying. I raised my Beretta and
+lined his quivering back up with my bead.
+
+``You there! What are you doing?'' I shouted through the darkness.
+
+``Turn around!'' I shouted again.
+
+``Beggin' your pardon, but\ldots you don't want me to turn around,'' it
+said.
+
+``Sure I do. I got a pistol pointed at your back so ya better,'' I
+replied.
+
+``Okay, you asked for it,'' the thing mumbled as it began to turn around.
+
+A breeze trickled through the alley as it turned and began to come
+toward me. I couldn't see him yet, he was shaded in the darkness.
+
+``Step out of the dark.''
+
+It inched forward. First its combat boots. Then its legs. Then its
+chest. Then its head. If you call it a head. His face was horrid. There
+was an abundance of purple scars. There was blood leaking from an empty
+eye socket and he only had one shriveled ear. There was no nose. There
+were no lips. Only holes.
+
+I took a step back in astonishment. I gritted my teeth to keep the vomit
+down.
+
+He took three more steps forward and I saw his tears glisten in the
+moonlight.
+
+``I told ya,'' it said.
+
+He screamed and began to run toward me. His stub of a hand was held high
+in the air and was ready to commence his brutality. I pulled the trigger
+on my Beretta. The recoil soothed my fear as I heard a shell hit the
+pavement and saw the lead make another eye socket in the thing's
+forehead. It kept coming with the assistance of his adrenaline. It had
+only been a split second before I squeezed off another round into its
+neck. The thing was inches away as I fired point blank into the thing's
+throat. Two shells hit the concrete.
+
+His hand smashed my head terribly powerful. Muscles were strained and
+torn as my head jerked to the side, smashing a window. I fell and landed
+in jagged glass. Dazed I fired again and again into the thing's chest. I
+felt the recoil pushing back rhythmically. Shells hitting the
+pavement. Bullets hitting the monster. Blood showering me. I felt my own
+blood from the side of my head fall and drip. I kept firing. The
+magazine was empty. He staggered. I tasted my tears and blood mixed into
+a horrid cocktail. It fell down next to me. A badge sparkled on the side
+of his jacket. Bavarious.
+
+I picked up a large piece of broken glass and saw a horrid
+reflection. Suddenly, I was sobbing.
+
+\begin{figure}[b]
+  \includegraphics[width=\textwidth]{art/necroid-his_hand_smashed.jpg}
+  \caption{{\em His hand smashed my head terribly powerful} by necroid}
+\end{figure}
+

stories/BenBiddick.Willy.tex

@@ -0,0 +1,47 @@
+\chapauth{Ben Biddick}
+\chapter{Willy}
+
+I sat on my chair and opened a can of beer. The TV was on and I was
+looking for a break from reality. It was 1953. I had just bought the TV
+and was adjusting to the adaptation of sight and sound together.
+
+The Korean War was on in the Far East and a number of the younger
+generation of the town in which I lived had gone off to fight, including
+my grandson, Willy. I had fought in WWI, my son John had fought in WWII,
+and now Willy had gone off to fight in the Korean War. I prayed for
+Willy often, for I knew the ravages of war.
+
+I soon had fallen asleep on the chair when a certain annoying sound came
+from the door. It was a certain scratching. A horridly fearful sound. I
+woke with a start and walked to the door. The scratching came again and
+then a moan. A terrible low moan, filled with anguish, pain, sadness,
+and fear. I took a step back. Another moan. It caused fear to waltz up
+and down my spine.
+
+``Who's there?'' I shouted to the other side of the gate.
+
+All there was was an attempt at the word: Grandpa.
+
+``Willy?'' I asked the voice, and my sanity.
+
+I swung the door open in anticipation. There was Willy, lying on the
+front steps. He was dressed in combat fatigues and had no left leg. His
+thigh was raw meat. Blood had turned the green pants into rust all the
+way across Willy's buttocks, top right leg, and lower back.
+
+``Grand-nd-pa,'' Willy stuttered, ``I can't walk. What is wrong?''
+
+The young man was bewildered to the point of delirium. I hugged the boy
+and cried. I shut my eyes to the agony and squeezed the young boy.
+
+``Oh, Will,'' I shuttered.
+
+I then opened my eyes and I was holding nothing. I rubbed my eyes, and
+retreated in shock and bewilderment. I went back into my house in a
+stupor and called John's house. All I could say when John lifted the
+phone was, ``Willy---''
+
+``Grandpa,'' I heard accompanied with sobs and shrieks, ``Willy's dead. His
+left leg was blown off by a grenade and he bled to death.''
+
+All I could do was hang up.

stories/BigSkillet.The_Screw_.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{BigSkillet}
 \chapter{The Screw That Turned}
-\by{BigSkillet}
 
 ``{\ldots}and his little heart, dispossessed, had stopped,'' said a man in
 a powdered wig that was reading a story to a group of people.

stories/Blurry_Gray_Thing.Monstrous.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Blurry Gray Thing}
 \chapter{Monstrous}
-\by{Blurry Gray Thing}
 
 
 In the shadows of our overcrowded cities lurk unspeakable horrors.

stories/BoldFrankensteinMir.Johnny_the.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{BoldFrankensteinMir}
 \chapter{Johnny the Knifer}
-\by{BoldFrankensteinMir}
 
 
 

stories/Bonaventure.Horrider_R.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Bonaventure}
 \chapter[Horrider Reflections]{The Horrid Reflection II: Horrider Reflections}
-\by{Bonaventure}
 
 
 The screamers screamed past with a screaming scream that screamed

stories/Brolita.Mac.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Brolita}
 \chapter{Mac}
-\by{Brolita}
 
 
 

stories/Brushingworth.Chamber_Po.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Brushingworth}
 \chapter{Chamber Pop}
-\by{Brushingworth}
 
 
 

stories/CannedMacabre.For_the_Ch.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{CannedMacabre}
 \chapter{For the Children}
-\by{CannedMacabre}
 
 
 Norma's Diner is a horrible place to get a cup of joe. The only

stories/Cheesus_Christ.The_Horrid.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Cheesus Christ}
 \chapter{The Horrid Erection}
-\by{Cheesus Christ}
 
 
 I stepped into the stall. The urge had come again. I was in the 4th

stories/Combat_Wombat.The_Librar.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Combat Wombat}
 \chapter{The Library}
-\by{Combat Wombat}
 
 
 

stories/Cota_Froise.The_Horrid.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Cota Froise}
 \chapter{The Horrid Reflection - Redux}
-\by{Cota Froise}
 
 
 

stories/Count_Snapula.Dead_Tired.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Count Snapula}
 \chapter[Dead Tired]{Dead Tired\\Horrid Reflection: Gaiden}
-\by{Count Snapula}
 
 
 

stories/Creflo_Chronicle.Black_Rive.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Creflo Chronicle}
 \chapter{Black River}
-\by{Creflo Chronicle}
 
 
 
@@ -40,7 +40,7 @@ white with black splotches like an albino who had had mud thrown on
 him. They were naked. Bavarius quivered with fear, and held his
 Beretta close to comfort him.
 
-The manbabies reached his door and stopped. They shouted to him
+The manbabies stopped as they reached his door. They shouted to him
 inside the house in unison. ``Luke Bavarius!'' they shouted. ``Let us
 in and we will save you from some pain!'' Their voices were like a
 sick man vomiting while trying to talk.

stories/Cruo.The_Smoker.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Cruo}
 \chapter{The Smoker}
-\by{Cruo}
 
 I stepped up to the door. The smell of the smoke was leaking
 through the door. I was at the front door of Gus's Bar and

stories/Danger408.The_Torrid.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Danger408}
 \chapter{The Torrid Connection}
-\by{Danger408}
 
 
 Cleaning his Beretta for the third time that day, and taking a swig

stories/Decatur_Fist.The_Last_N.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Decatur Fist}
 \chapter{The Last Night of Luke Bavarious}
-\by{Decatur Fist}
 
 
 

stories/Detective_Thompson.Words_Will.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Detective Thompson}
 \chapter{Words Will Never Hurt Me{\ldots}}
-\by{Detective Thompson}
 
 
 

stories/Dirty_Sanchez.A_Tin_of_P.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Dirty Sanchez}
 \chapter{A Tin of Popcorn}
-\by{Dirty Sanchez}
 
 
 

stories/Dominic_Bones.Again.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Dominic Bones}
 \chapter{Again}
-\by{Dominic Bones}
 
 
 I sat on the edge of my bed, drinking a glass of water I had just

stories/Donde_Esta.The_Promis.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Donde Esta}
 \chapter{The Promise}
-\by{Donde Esta}
 
 
 5 A.M. is a shitty time for burnt coffee.

stories/Dr_Scoofles.The_Long_F.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Dr Scoofles}
 \chapter{The Long Finger of the Law}
-\by{Dr Scoofles}
 
 
 

stories/Dr__Mulholland.The_Horrid.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Dr.\ Mulholland}
 \chapter{The Horrid Assignment}
-\by{Dr.\ Mulholland}
 
 
 

stories/Funk_In_Shoe.I_am___bf_.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Funk In Shoe}
 \chapter{I am {\bf not} Luke Bavarius}
-\by{Funk In Shoe}
 
 
 Interviewee: LARRY BAVARIUS - 05/05/09

stories/Ghost_Hat.Character_.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Ghost Hat}
 \chapter{Character Sketch}
-\by{Ghost Hat}
 
 
 

stories/Ghost_Hat.Invisible_.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Ghost Hat}
 \chapter{Invisible Monsters}
-\by{Ghost Hat}
 
 
 

stories/Hamelin.The_Painte.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Hamelin}
 \chapter{The Painter}
-\by{Hamelin}
 
 
 

stories/Hantu.I__Lucius_.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Hantu}
 \chapter{I, Lucius Baiuvarius}
-\by{Hantu}
 
 
 It is mid winter in the year 177 of the Christian god. As I write

stories/HastyDeparture.A_Red_Sky_.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{HastyDeparture}
 \chapter{A Red Sky at Night}
-\by{HastyDeparture}
 
 
 The sun slowly sinks in the sky, an orange halo telling of the the

stories/Helmet.Kindness_o.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Helmet}
 \chapter{Kindness of Strangers}
-\by{Helmet}
 
 
 Luke Bavarious was driving his squad car on Old Pine Road. A little

stories/Hired_Gun.The_Bodies.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Hired Gun}
 \chapter{The Bodies of Bavarii}
-\by{Hired Gun}
 
 
 It was a haunting and horrid night in the city. Luke Bavarious sat

stories/IShallRiseAgain.The_School.tex

@@ -1,10 +1,10 @@
+\chapauth{IShallRiseAgain}
 \chapter{The School}
-\by{IShallRiseAgain}
 
 
 John Jones was your average every-day student at Livingston Middle
 School. He was also very late. He hurried into his classroom for
-the gifted students of which he was the smartest and coolest. He
+gifted students of which he was the smartest and coolest. He
 hated his teacher, Miss Diabloclous, she was always giving them
 homework and pop quizzes. ``Your late, John Jones! You get a
 detention!'' shrieked Miss Diabloclous. ``Third one this

stories/Irish_Joe.The_Boy_Th.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Irish Joe}
 \chapter{The Boy That Lived}
-\by{Irish Joe}
 
 
 

stories/January.The_Journe.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{January}
 \chapter{The Journey}
-\by{January}
 
 
 The name's Luke Bavarious, private detective. I've seen

stories/JohnnyThreeToes.Horrid_Tra.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{JohnnyThreeToes}
 \chapter{Horrid Transformation}
-\by{JohnnyThreeToes}
 
 
 A man lives in that abandoned house at the end of the street. He is

stories/JuicedSixFo.Untitled.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{JuicedSixFo}
 \chapter{Untitled}
-\by{JuicedSixFo}
 
 As I stepped into the gloomy lights of 98th Avenue, I knew a grisly
 death had taken place. My Beretta was calmly rested in my calm hands,

stories/King_Plum_the_Nth.Flow_My_Te.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{King Plum the Nth}
 \chapter{Flow My Tears, the PI Said.}
-\by{King Plum the Nth}
 
 
 The kids from the neighborhood pooled their money to hire me. All

stories/King_Plum_the_Nth.Untitled.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{King Plum the Nth}
 \chapter{Untitled}
-\by{King Plum the Nth}
 
 
 I'd never been to San Diego before. Never been further west

stories/Knuc_If_U_Buck.The_Horrif.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Knuc If U Buck}
 \chapter{The Horrific Release}
-\by{Knuc If U Buck}
 
 
 

stories/KryonikMessiah.The_Ninjas.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{KryonikMessiah}
 \chapter{The Ninjas}
-\by{KryonikMessiah}
 
 
 

stories/LesterGroans.Dream_Hyen.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{LesterGroans}
 \chapter[Dream Hyena]{Dream Hyena: A Bavarius Tale}
-\by{LesterGroans}
 
 
 

stories/Livestock.Destiny_Ca.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Livestock}
 \chapter[Destiny Calls]{Destiny Calls: A Luke Bavarius Mystery}
-\by{Livestock}
 
 
 Luke Bavarius was on edge. For months he'd been receiving

stories/Lord_Humongus.The_Cellar.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Lord Humongus}
 \chapter{The Cellar Of Death}
-\by{Lord Humongus}
 
 
 Luke walked down the house's scarred walls. The place was full of

stories/Lorentz_Factor.It_s_just_.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Lorentz Factor}
 \chapter{It's just me, `Luke'}
-\by{Lorentz Factor}
 
 
 

stories/Lynxifer.The_Orches.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Lynxifer}
 \chapter[The Orchestra of Nothing]{Luke Bavarious and the Orchestra of Nothing}
-\by{Lynxifer}
 
 
 

stories/Madcosby.Son_Of_Bav.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Madcosby}
 \chapter{Son Of Bavarious}
-\by{Madcosby}
 
 
 

stories/Monkey_Trouble.The_Cave.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Monkey Trouble}
 \chapter{The Cave}
-\by{Monkey Trouble}
 
 
 The name's Bavarious. Luke Bavarious, P.I.

stories/Mortonic.The_Very_H.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Mortonic}
 \chapter{The Very Hungry Luke Bavarius}
-\by{Mortonic}
 
 
 

stories/O_Tempora__O_Mores_.The_First_.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{O Tempora! O Mores!}
 \chapter{The First and Second Stories}
-\by{O Tempora! O Mores!}
 
 
 \section*{The first story!}

stories/Oatgan.The_Scream.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Oatgan}
 \chapter{The Screaming Night}
-\by{Oatgan}
 
 
 

stories/Orgasmo.Make_My_Da.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Orgasmo}
 \chapter{Make My Day}
-\by{Orgasmo}
 
 
 The telephone rings. The cacophony breaks through the utter silence

stories/Paracetamol_Boy.The_Smile.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Paracetamol Boy}
 \chapter{The Smile}
-\by{Paracetamol Boy}
 
 
 

stories/Part_of_Everything.The_Death_.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Part of Everything}
 \chapter{The Death Hamsters}
-\by{Part of Everything}
 
 
 

stories/Peas_and_Rice.The_King.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Peas and Rice}
 \chapter{The King}
-\by{Peas and Rice}
 
 
 

stories/Phthalogreen.Pearl.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Phthalogreen}
 \chapter{Pearl}
-\by{Phthalogreen}
 
 
 

stories/Pro_Swordbro.Nobodys_Sa.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Pro-Swordbro}
 \chapter{Nobodys Savior}
-\by{Pro-Swordbro}
 
 
 

stories/Quovak.A_Cursed_M.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Quovak}
 \chapter{A Cursed Memory}
-\by{Quovak}
 
 
 My name is Luke Bavarious. I am a policeman. Recently my wife Vixie

stories/Ridgely__Fan.The_Cocoon.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Ridgely\_Fan}
 \chapter{The Cocoon}
-\by{Ridgely\_Fan}
 
 \section*{Part 1}
 

stories/Rummanging.Nebulous_C.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Rummanging}
 \chapter{Nebulous Cupboard}
-\by{Rummanging}
 
 
 

stories/Safe_Driver.Hell_Cab.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Safe Driver}
 \chapter{Hell Cab}
-\by{Safe Driver}
 
 
 ``Wake up, Bavarius! Wake up! Wake up!'' The

stories/Scissorfighter.The_Book.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Scissorfighter}
 \chapter{The Book}
-\by{Scissorfighter}
 
 
 Trent Fencer was a bully{\ldots} He liked most to bully children. He

stories/Sirocco.The_Monste.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Sirocco}
 \chapter{The Monster of Lake Grim}
-\by{Sirocco}
 
 
 

stories/Sleepless_Dreamer.Reunion_Un.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Sleepless Dreamer}
 \chapter[Reunion]{Reunion Under a Blood Red Moon}
-\by{Sleepless Dreamer}
 
 
 

stories/Smeef.The_Old_Ch.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Smeef}
 \chapter{The Old Child}
-\by{Smeef}
 
 
 

stories/Smokey.Thursday.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Smokey}
 \chapter{Thursday}
-\by{Smokey}
 
 \section*{Chapter 1}
 

stories/SummerGlaucoma.Bavarious_.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{SummerGlaucoma}
 \chapter{Bavarious Reasons}
-\by{SummerGlaucoma}
 
 
 

stories/Swanky.Gold_Ribbo.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Swanky}
 \chapter{Gold Ribbon}
-\by{Swanky}
 
 
 

stories/Syphilicious_.What_Lurks.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Syphilicious!}
 \chapter[What Lurks Behind Our Eyes]{What Lurks Behind Our Eyes: The Horrid Reflection Revisited}
-\by{Syphilicious!}
 
 
 Thursday night, and everything is quiet. Unusual for me, but in my

stories/THE_WORST_DOCTOR.The_Snake_.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{THE WORST DOCTOR}
 \chapter{The Snake Lady}
-\by{THE WORST DOCTOR}
 
 
 There was a kid who came up to me one evening after I had left my

stories/TarDolphinorShark.The_Homele.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{TarDolphinorShark}
 \chapter{The Homeless Monster}
-\by{TarDolphinorShark}
 
 
 
@@ -54,10 +54,3 @@ out of the academy, but I made my choice, and you made yours.  ``Nobody
 makes noise on Luke Bavarious' watch!''  Luke said as he chambered one
 last round, and placed it right between his rotting father's eyes.
 
-e: for title 
- 
-
-
-
-
-

stories/TheElectronicOne.In_the_Mir.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{TheElectronicOne}
 \chapter{In the Mirror}
-\by{TheElectronicOne}
 
 
 Out of the darkness came Rothard Mavalero. Grunting and thumping,

stories/TheSpiritFox.Untitled.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{TheSpiritFox}
 \chapter{Untitled}
-\by{TheSpiritFox}
 
 
 Luke walked into his room. Man! What a shitty day.

stories/The_Bananana.Deja_Vu.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{The Bananana}
 \chapter{Deja Vu}
-\by{The Bananana}
 
 
 Luke awoke in a bed.
@@ -186,7 +186,7 @@ our affairs; you stuck your nose in our business. When we sent our men
 here to fire the house, we sent them for you. It was you that did this
 to your wife. To your son. You are responsible.''
 
-``I tried\ldots I came home\ldots the flames, they were everywhere'' Luke carried
+``I tried\ldots{} I came home\ldots{} the flames, they were everywhere'' Luke carried
 on, distantly.
 
 ``But don't worry. There's more.'' Said the boy, ``We have much more

stories/The_Iron_Fury.The_Horrid.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{The Iron Fury}
 \chapter{The Horrid Refraction}
-\by{The Iron Fury}
 
 
 {\em This entry picks up immediately after {\rm The Horrid Reflection}

stories/Torgo_.Brian.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Torgo!}
 \chapter{Brian}
-\by{Torgo!}
 
 
 

stories/Tufty.Dames__the.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Tufty}
 \chapter[Dames, they're all the Same]{Dames, they're all the Same: a Luke Bavarious detective story inspired by the works of Ben Biddick}
-\by{Tufty}
 
 
 

stories/Twigand_Berries.The_Sack_o.tex

@@ -1,5 +1,5 @@
+\chapauth{Twigand Berries}
 \chapter{The Sack of Horrors}
-\by{Twigand Berries}
 
 
 I polished off another set of ten and felt that good, deep burn. I