Kurt Manley, perfect as always, was behind the Network News One Anchor Desk.
“Tonight’s top story…East Randomtown to be leveled!”
We all let out a collective, “WHAAAAAT?!!”
“A Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties is on the scene at the Army’s base of operations in West Randomtown. Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties, are you there?”
A blonde reporter meeting the aforementioned description (NN1 really doesn’t even try to hide it anymore) appeared on screen, microphone in hand.
“Yes I am, Kurt.”
The camera pulled out to reveal that corrupt jackass General Morganstern standing next to her.
“General, the President has just given you the go ahead to carpet bomb the ever loving shit out of East Randomtown. Is such a drastic move really necessary?”
“It certainly is, Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties,” the General said. “We’ve looked at this situation every possible way and lighting this crap hole burg up is the only option available that will keep the zombie menace from spreading to the rest of the nation.”
Cut to the studio.
“Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties?”
Split-screen between Kurt and the reporter.
“Yes Kurt?”
“What about the reports we’ve been looking to, that a resident of East Randomtown named Bookshelf Q. Battler is alive and well in town, as are a substantial number of survivors under his care?”
Back to the base. The reporter held the mic up to the military man.
“What about it, General?”
“Utter malarkey, Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties,” the General replied.
“But we’ve received reports that Bookshelf Q. Battler has been blogging from within East Randomtown every day for the past month,” the reporter said.
“Poppycock,” the General said. “My team of experts reviewed that so-called blog. We found it to be nothing more than a pile of hot, steamy unintelligible crap. Bullshit about a nerd who think’s he’s an alien dictator’s chosen one, the best friend of another alien, that he has a Yeti living in his basement and so on.”
“He’s got me there,” I said.
“I can think of a few ladies who disagree with you, General,” the reporter said.
Cut to a park in West Randomtown, where several hundred forty something year old ladies in blue denim pants where holding a candlelight vigil. They sang hymns and carried homemade signs. Some of the more clever slogans included:
Funky Hunks 4-Eva!
The Funky Hunks LIVE!
Marry Me, MC Plotz!
Recyclin’ Be Dope!
I’m Bookshelf Q. Battler’s .5th reader!
Mary Flundersen, the President of the North Dakota Funky Hunks Fan Club, was standing next to a beautiful red headed reporter.
“Hot Ass Red Headed Chick With Big Titties?”
“Yes, Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties?”
“Tell us what’s going on behind you.”
“Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties,” the red headed reporter said. “I’m reporting from West Randomtown Park, where fans of the Funky Hunks have gathered to protest any and all military action against East Randomtown until it is confirmed that Bookshelf Q. Battler and Bernard Plotz are escorted to safety. Ma’am, tell us how your demonstration is going.”
Mary started in with her North Midwestern “Fargo-esque” accent.
“Oh, Hot Ass Red Headed Chick With Big Titties,” Mary said. “It’s going well so far. I put the call out and Funky Hunk Fans all over America and as far away as Bangladesh have flocked here to tell the world that what the General is doing is wrong. I’m one of Bookshelf Q. Battler’s 3.5 readers, dontcha know, and I’m telling you our beloved Funky Hunks are alive and if one hair is harmed on their precious heads…”
Mary’s eyes, expression, and tone of voice all took a dark turn.
“…WE’RE GOING TO TEAR THIS MOTHER APART!!!”
All the protesters shouted “YEAH!” in the background, followed by, “NO FUNKY HUNKS, NO PEACE!”
“Back to you, Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties,” the red headed reporter said.
“Thank you, Hot Ass Red Head Chick With Big Titties.”
The blonde reporter and Morganstern were back on screen.
“General, our own independent NN1 investigation revealed the follow facts. One. Though it was not very popular, a rap duo known as the Funky Hunks did exist during the late 1990’s/early 2000s. This duo included Bookshelf Q. Battler and Bernard Plotz, who rapped under the stage names of ‘Read N. Plenty’ and ‘MC Plotz.’ They found a niche audience with forty something soccer moms in blue denim stretch pants, due to the wholesome rhymes featured on their debut album, ‘Non-Threatening White Boys.’”
“All speculation and conjecture,” the General interrupted.
The blonde reported carried on.
“Two,” she said. “That Bookshelf Q. Battler’s and Bernard Plotznick’s last known addresses were in East Randomtown.”
“That means nothing,” Morganstern said.
“Three,” the blonde reporter said. “Despite its incredibly low readership of 3.5 individuals, a blog known as ‘The Bookshelf Battle Blog’ does exist, and for the past month, an individual claiming to be Bookshelf Q. Battler himself has been making daily posts. In those posts, he’s alleged that at least a thousand survivors are alive and well in East Randomtown. Shouldn’t you hold off on destroying this town until it’s known for sure whether or not Mr. Battler’s claims are accurate?”
“Now you listen here, Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties,” General Morganstern said. “I am telling you that every last person in East Randomtown is either deader than disco or has been turned into a ruthless brain sucking bastard! Your information is false and surely a veteran journalist such as yourself should know better than to worry about what dumb asses say on the blogosphere. No credentials whatsoever are required to start up a website these days. Any asshole on his living room couch can tap a few keys and be online in an instant, spouting off whatever insane conspiracy theories come to his mind!”
“Thank God,” I said as I looked at the screen of the laptop in my lap. It read “Bookshelf Battle.”
“I realize this is a drastic measure but I want to assure the American people that bombing East Randomtown to smithereens is the only way to keep the zombie menace from spreading. So put on your shades and grab some hot dogs because there’s going to be one helluva weenie roast soon!”
“But General,” the reporter said.
The General walked off.
“No more questions!”
The blonde reporter turned to the camera.
“You heard it here, first, viewers,” the reporter said. “An American town is about to be blown up by our own military amidst allegations that survivors remain alive within the town limits. Back to you, Kurt.”
Cut to Kurt behind the anchor desk.
“A shocking report indeed, Hot Ass Blonde Chick With Big Titties. Stay tuned, as we’ll be following this story as it develops. Also, is there a brand of laundry detergent that could give you the Ebola virus? We’ll tell you whether or not its your brand after these messages, plus the weather…”
A graphic blasted onto the screen:
NETWORK NEWS ONE
The hottest chicks. The biggest titties.
Oh yeah, and sometimes we report the news and shit.
VGRF turned to me.
“What now, fearless leader?”
“I need to make a call,” I said.
“Now really isn’t the time to be calling a zombie author,” VGRF said.
“Not an author,” I said. “My lawyer.”
Bookshelf Battle 