Author Archive: H. Seitz
The Skull Island Times > Articles by: H. Seitz
H. Seitz is the author of the Sci-fi novella "Iron Manimal" and a contributing writer at The Skull Island Times.
H. Seitz
October 24, 2016
Divine Advice
George Clooney
Image By Trevor Butcher
Dear Jesus and Satan, I’ve been married to the same man for 9 years, and for the most part, it’s been great. He always holds the door for me when I’m carrying groceries into the house, he always puts the toilet seat down, he tells me I’m beautiful at least 3 times a month—basically everything a wife could ask for in a husband. Physically, though, he’s been letting himself go. While I’ve held up my end by spending hours at the gym, getting Botox, fake tits and ab implants, he’s gained 60 lbs, lost his hair and stopped shaving regularly. Until recently, I’ve managed to be OK with this, mainly by relying on my rich imagination (I close my eyes and pretend he’s George Clooney while we’re having sex). Lately however, I’ve been having these disturbingly violent thoughts. I’ll look at Ted while he’s on the couch playing Halo (which…
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H. Seitz
October 12, 2016
Divine Advice
Photo by Kai, Outfit by Maddy Joy Cosplay
Dear Divine Advice, My cat Lucy lost her collar while she was out, and now she looks naked to me. I already have a strong emotional attachment to Lucy, and while I’m not sexually attracted to her per say, I am very lonely, and ever since she lost her collar I can’t help thinking to myself about how ladylike she looks.when she’s licking herself or strutting about. What would Donald Trump do in my situation, and based on that, should I vote for Donald Trump? Please help me! Sincerely, The Catman Dear Catman, What Donald Trump would do in this situation should be pretty obvious to anyone who has been following the news lately. That said, what you should really be asking yourself is “what would Jesus do?” In this case, I can tell you exactly what I’d do—I’d flog myself. In my day, there were always plenty of Roman…
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H. Seitz
October 5, 2016
Divine Advice
Dear Divine Advice, I suspected that my 15 year old son Rob had started smoking pot, so I looked through his phone while he was in the shower. I found a video in his Dropbox of him and a girl doing bong hits and having sex. The girl, whoever she is, looks exactly like a younger version of my wife, which I found disturbing but also kind of arousing. I started masterbating and Rob almost caught me when he barged into the den looking for his phone. He saw me masterbating, but not what I was materbating to or that I had his phone. So my question is this: how do you delete the browsing history on Safari? The phone is an iphone 6 and I have no idea what I’m doing. I’m a PC person and have never had to deal with Safari before. . Thanks, —Stereotypical Tech Illiterate…
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H. Seitz
September 24, 2016
Divine Advice
Jesus, Satan
Dear Divine Advice, This is kind of embarrassing, but here goes. I work as an enforcer for a major east coast drug syndicate. I was running late and I wasn’t paying attention to the road as much as I should have been. Long story short: I killed an innocent woman on my way to work. Being who I am and knowing what I know, I ‘took care’ of the body. I just don’t need that kind of attention in my life. Hitting her with my car was an accident, but to tell the honest truth, she wasn’t completely dead after that, so I kind of helped her along. My questions are as follows: is this murder? I’m pretty sure she would’ve died anyway, her body was pretty mangled. Put it this way: if she was a horse or a dog, any decent vet or trainer would have put her down,…
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H. Seitz
August 29, 2016
Fiction
Derek Jeter, Milwaukee Brewers
Playing for the New York Yankees, that would be a dream come true. Playing for the Milwaukee Brewers, that was like having a wet dream about your wife. The women perked up and the men on the other side of the room deflated as Dobbs walked in. He was 6’3” and built like a sprinter. A plump woman with a clipboard waved him over and had him pick a card out of a hat, then told him to stand with the other men. Dobbs thought about the game last night. He had been staring at a pretty girl in the stands. The catcher had noticed and picked him off, which is pretty unforgivable for a pinch runner. His only job was to not get picked off. He couldn’t hit, he couldn’t throw, and he could barely bunt. All he could do was run fast and supposedly be smart on the…
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H. Seitz
August 14, 2016
Fiction
Grandpa
Photo by Willy Verhulst
Grandpa sat at the table poking at his turkey. It was too dry, but he would never complain about it. It was food, and food was for eating, and if you had food, you were a pretty lucky guy. But still, it was too dry. It was too dry every Thanksgiving. Wendy just wasn’t a very good cook and her husband Ron was an idiot. The kids, Sam and Josie, were also idiots. They looked like they were about college aged. There was still a slim chance they’d grow out of it, but most people grew more and more into it. Grandpa remembered when Wendy was still a child. She had been such a sweet, intelligent girl, and now she was a robotic harpy. A robotic harpy married to an idiot, and she still didn’t know how to cook a turkey. “Ron, what are you doing?” “You said to start…
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H. Seitz
August 8, 2016
Fiction
Phil needed a cigarette. Or maybe a snort of ketamine. Being a veterinarian had its perks. He had always loved animals, or at least liked them more than people. Unfortunately, the animals who came in for care tended to have owners, and those owners were always people. He took off his gloves and started to wash up when there was a rap at his door. Katie opened it and stuck her head in before he could answer. She consulted her clipboard as she spoke. “We’ve got a walk in, she says it’s an emergency. Missy Burrell.” “Is that the cat’s name or the owner’s?” “It’s the owner’s name. And it’s a dalmatian, not a cat.” “What kind of a name is ‘Missy’?” “A cat’s name?” “What kind of an emergency is it?” “She wouldn’t tell me. She said it was confidential.” Great. A nutcase. And it was already well past…
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H. Seitz
August 4, 2016
Fiction
H. Seitz, The Boss
The boss sat at his desk drinking tepid instant coffee. He wasn’t self-aware when he could avoid it, but he was a having a moment and not enjoying it. His intercom buzzed. The boss groaned and pushed the intercom button. “Mable?” “Alex is here to see you.” The boss removed his finger from the intercom button. “For the love of god.” He pushed the button again. “Send her in.” Alex entered and the boss gestured for her to sit down. She smiled awkwardly and took a seat. The boss knew he had to be very careful not to speak or behave naturally. “I know you’re busy, and I’m sorry to bother you.” Does she really know that, and is she really sorry? He wondered. “It’s just that, well . . .” The boss felt something inside of himself break and begin to dissolve. “Alex, I hope you know that…
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H. Seitz
July 22, 2016
Fiction
Lucy could hear noise coming from the kitchen Click-click. Glug glug glug glug. “Ahhh.” Flick-flick. Phhhhh. “Ahhh.” Glug glug glug glug glug. “Bleeugh.” Crunk. Stomp stomp stomp. Pa-fff. Click-click. Glug glug glug glug. She looked at the clock on her nightstand. It was six in the morning. Six in the morning and it had already begun. She was about to yell at him to stop smoking in the house, but Big Baby McFuckface beat her to it. “Lucy! Lucy, goddammit! We’re almost out of beer. Beer beer beer beer beer!” Big Baby started pounding on the table and cackling as he chanted. “Beer beer beer beer beer! Ha ha hahaha! Beeeeeeer!” “Oh for fuck’s sake!” Lucy dragged herself out of bed and started pulling her clothes on. She’d ignored Big Baby in the past…
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H. Seitz
July 19, 2016
Fiction
Walter sat at his computer, staring at his novel in progress. It was nearly 300 pages long so far and all of it was crap. He’d always had problems writing. At first, he’d thought his problems might have something to do with genre, but everything he wrote ended up being in the same genre: crap. He’d considered that his problems might be related to length, that maybe he could sustain quality in shorter bursts. He’d switched from novels to novellas to short stories to poetry and the results were always the same: crap. Eventually, he’d done the only reasonable thing he could think of to do and quit. For seven years, he had abandoned his one seemingly feasible dream. You didn’t have to be physically fit or attractive or talented to write. All you had to do was to keep writing and editing, fixing your errors and improving…
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