Tales of El Scorcho

“It’s okay,” Lenna told Jonas. When her fingers touched his, he felt a bolt of hot energy shoot though him, like injecting a gallon of the world’s finest espresso straight into his heart.
El Scorcho swung out his fists, criss-crossing them and striking the bottles mid-air. The glass shattered, embedding glass shards into the canvas cloth and dousing them with oil. Then he bent down to the still-flickering fire and dipped his swaddled fists in. His fists erupted into twin torches studded with broken glass. Theatrics were important.
A six-hour battle royale gaming session...and probably the most somber moment in my history of gaming. One of those moments where you walk away reminding yourself it's only a game. It's only a game?
Quick as a snake strike, the barbarian’s gloved fist stabbed forward into Tiny Mac’s face. The shopkeeper’s nose snapped like a frozen carrot.
“Oh! I got it,” El Scorcho said. He stepped even closer to the fire, dramatically leveled one arm at the Undead creatures and bellowed, “Cursed foulness from Beyond, I give you but one choice: Regular or Extra Crispy?”
El Scorcho has returned in a tale so sweet, it had to register with the FDA…a story so epic, it makes The Dark Knight look like Batman & Robin…In a [noun] so [adjective] it makes [noun] look like [adjective] [noun]…Self-discovery, spirituality and redemption? You won’t find any of that here. Just an operatic level of punching and dead bad guys.
Itching for your El Scorcho fix? Then check out the first volume in the 'Tales of El Scorcho' series, available only on Kindle devices or apps. Orangebean is proudly forced to present an exclusive interview of writer Tim Bean with El...
Then you hear the genetic mutants coming, chattering in the dark. Slowly, Tchaikovsky’s “Waltz of the Flowers” from The Nutcracker Suite rises out of the dark.