Flapman, last of the Grogons, is a real bastard
Infernal Method Magnificent Bastards of the Apocalypse

Know Your Bastards: Flapman

Flapman is the linchpin of the Magnificent Bastards of the Apocalypse. No, that’s not it...not “linchpin.” It’s, um... jerk. He’s a murderous jerk.

Name: Flapman

Why?: Doesn’t matter; that’s what he answers to.

Species: Grogon—a branch of intensely scented humanoids whose lethal gaze has been the subject of much fear and poorly considered scientific study.

Likes: Vaping, stealing, assault, carbohydrates, and Ol’ Smashy, his trusty murder-hammer.

Twitter handle: There is no Twitter in the Feculent Zone despite it being a horrifying dystopia.

Largest of the Magnificent Bastards of the Apocalypse, Flapman strikes an imposing figure over the landscape of the Feculent Zone. This massive, if flabby, member of the local rabble generally takes what he wants, especially from his Grotto-mate, Gibson Taylor. In addition to his considerable bulk, extra-considerable smell, and rotten attitude, Flapman is the last of the Grogons, a race of genuine assholes who also happened to be lethally ugly.

A mere glance at the face of a full-grown Grogon causes the unfortunate gazer’s head to explode in a shower of brain matter and regret. While this is a cool power, it made Grogons unpopular and forced them to cover their faces with masks. Well, not forced—it’s difficult to compel a creature that can asplode your head to do stuff it doesn’t feel like doing. Like bathing. So really, the masks were a compromise toward some measure of social stability. This was a naive position that resulted in the near-extinction of the Grogons at the hands of those who hated them, i.e., everyone.

Now alone in the world without a realistic chance of hooking up, Flapman favors a mask fashioned from a brown paper bag, upon which is scrawled a leering, terrifying face in magic marker. It is truly hideous, but not enough to make one’s head go boom, which is nice. He stands at over two meters, not counting the bag, and can typically be found dressed in a grungy bathrobe over a grungy t-shirt and grungy pants. His preferred footwear is slippers, which would also be grungy if “grungy” as a category included “probably fused to his enormous feet with filth.”

It could be said that Super Patriot Boy is Flapman’s best friend and/or pet. “Servant” also works. Along with tiresome third-wheel Gibson, they roam the wastes of Earth Z in search of precious calories and any pornography that hasn’t been too picked over

Flapman, King of the Grogons. Or “last of...” Whatever.
Like staring into the face of madness, except you can’t because the bag is in the way.

1 comment on “Know Your Bastards: Flapman

  1. Pingback: Sonnets from the Apocalypse – J.M. Torgo's Infernal Rift

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