Daily Archives: February 20, 2016

How the West Was Zombed – I Saw Gunther

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Today, whilst procuring groceries for BQB HQ, I saw an old man with gray hair, a beard, and a GLASS EYE!

I kid you not.  I really, really did.

If only I had the chutzpah to go talk to him and ask for an interview on what it is like to have a glass eye.  Maybe he’d of offered a detail or two to add to Gunther’s character.  More likely, he would have told me to go F myself.

I take this as a sign from up above that I’m supposed to finish this book.

Then again, I have seen things related to my other books in real life that seemed highly coincidental at the time, took them as signs, and then quit so…

I don’t know.  It was totally Gunther though.

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How the West Was Zombed – Questions for My 3.5 Readers


Hey 3.5 Readers,

Here’s some questions I have for you:

Doc Faraday vs. Doc Holliday

If I get through How the West Was Zombed and the tentative sequel I’m currently referring to as “Calamity Jane vs. Zombies,” I foresee a third – Wyatt Earp vs. Zombies.

Wyatt Earp’s best friend, of course, was Doc Holliday.

This is probably thinking too far into the future but if I get through all three books, will you, the noble reader, be upset that there are two doctors with last names involving “day?”

My gut tells me to leave it.  I actually chose Faraday because it kind of felt like a small tribute to Doc Holliday.  Future books will take place in a zombified west (i.e. you’re about to learn How the West Was Zombed)…with at least two actual Western folk heroes responding to the zombie crisis (Jane in #2 and Wyatt in #3).

So I’m probably just going to leave Doc Faraday’s name as is.  But I’d like your input.

Old vs. Young Points of View

Gunther at the beginning always wants Slade to back down.  He’s old.  He’s seen the result of not backing down too many times.  Slade’s young.  Younger people have this sense of “the world should be X and if it isn’t everything must stop until it is fixed!”

Slade adopts Gunther’s “f%&k it” strategy toward the middle of the book where he quits.

But as things start to become more ominous…Gunther begins to snap Slade out of his teachings – i.e. he’s old enough to know when to back down and when to fight.

Make sense?

The Impending Zombie Apocalypse

Pretty soon the book is going to turn into The Walking Dead Meets Gunsmoke.  I foresee Slade and Co. fighting their way through town for survival.

Should we put Miss Bonnie in his group to keep things interesting as she and the Widow Farquhar cat fight it out over their man in the midst of zombie mayhem?

Probably worth a laugh or two but…I’m leaning toward things working out for Miss Bonnie to become a bit of a hero in her own right.

By the way, this is actually going to require me to draw a rudimentary map of Highwater just to make sure I keep it straight where everyone’s going so…stay tuned for that.

It’s definitely going to look like a 5 year old drew it with crayon but it will get the job done.

Standing Eagle’s Tribe

I believe I will rewrite the curse in the beginning to be a general curse of “Bad stuff will happen to you Slade” rather than leave it as it is, “The dead will rise from the grave!”

The problem is if you go back and read the beginning, you, the reader, find out there’s a zombie attack making its way across the West on its way to Highwater before Slade and Friends figure it out.

So really, the curse, meant as a red herring until its eventually discovered the Miracle Cure All was the culprit, doesn’t work.

But, in theory, you might wonder if the tribe’s curse of “bad things will happen”  (will be worded better than that) might not have invited – all this bad stuff to happen.

It doesn’t.  Standing Eagle just wanted to save face with a curse is all.  I believe he will return.  He was too good of a character not to and there needs to be some zombie scalping.


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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 42


Miss Bonnie rapped on Annabelle’s door. No one answered.

“Annabelle?” Miss Bonnie asked.

Muffled voices could be heard from behind the door. Annabelle giggled.

“Doctor, that’s so cold!”

“No one ever said that maintaining good health is easy, my dear,” Doc replied.

Miss Bonnie knocked on the door again. “Annabelle!”

“Doc,” Annabelle said. “Do we really have to do this every week?”

“Oh I insist my dear,” Doc said. “We must not leave your physical well-being to chance.”

“It’s just that it’s getting kinda expensive,” Annabelle said.

“An understandable concern,” Doc said. “But while you can always make more money, you can’t make yourself another life now can you?”

“I suppose not,” Annabelle said.

Miss Bonnie opened the door and barged in to find a buck naked Annabelle laid back in bed with her legs straight up in the air.

Doc popped his head up from in between them, wearing a pair of goggles that made his eyes appear a hundred times larger than they normally were. He gestured wildly with a cast iron speculum in his hand. Both hands were covered with black leather gloves.

“Miss Lassiter!” Doc said. “Can you spare me a moment? As you can see, I’m with a patient.”

Annabelle pulled the covers over herself. “Oh…hey Bonnie,” she said.

Doc stood up. He was fully clothed.

“What in the hell is this?” Miss Bonnie asked.

“A medical examination,” Doc said. “A very intense, grueling procedure if you must know.”

“Damn it, Annabelle, have you been…”

Embarrassed, Annabelle hid her face under the covers. Miss Bonnie pointed at her girl then looked at Doc.

“Pay her.”

“Pardon me?” Doc asked.

“You heard me,” Miss Bonnie said.

“But I’m rendering a professional service…”

“I don’t give a shit what nasty fetish you’ve got going on here,” Miss Bonnie said.

“Madame!” Doc said. “Dare you impugn my devotion to medical science?

“I do,” Miss Bonnie said. “Now give her back all the money she gave you AND pay her for whatever the hell you’ve been doing.”

Doc lifted the goggles and rested them on his forehead. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills. He peeled off a few and set them on Annabelle’s nightstand.

“More,” Miss Bonnie said.

Doc added to the pile. “This is ludicrous,” Doc said. “You’ve wounded me deeply with these slanderous accusations!”

“You’ll get over it,” Miss Bonnie said. “Now about the dope you’ve been pushing…”

Doc’s eyes widened. “Dope?! Dope?! Madame, I’ll have you know the only so-called ‘dope’ I’m ‘pushing’ is Doc Faraday’s Miracle Cure-All, the last medicine you’ll ever need!  Good for aches, pains, bowel distress, consumption…”

“I don’t give a shit if its butterscotch pudding,” Miss Bonnie said with her hand out. “Anyone who turns a trick in my joint owes me a cut. Fork it over.”

Doc put a stack of cash in Miss Bonnie’s hand.

“Keep it coming,” the redhead said.

“Is there no appreciation for science in this Godforsaken town?” Doc asked as he slapped down some more bills.

“Apparently not,” Miss Bonnie said. She tucked the cash into her brazier. “Annabelle, is this asshole hurting you?”

“No,” came the reply from under the covers. “It’s kinda fun!”

“I guess you can finish whatever the hell you were doing now that you’ve paid,” Miss Bonnie said to Doc. “But if I ever hear about you charging one of my girls again you’ll be extracting my shoe out of your ass.”

Miss Bonnie walked away. Doc put his goggles back on. “Well, my dear, I suppose there’s no rule against me examining you pro bono.”

“You’d do that, Doc?” Annabelle asked as she popped her head out.

“Indeed, my dear,” Doc said. “Selfless, I know, but I take my Hippocratic oath quite seriously and my devotion to my patients knows no bounds.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 41


Back at the Bonnie Lass, the Buchanan Boys carried on with their raucous party late into the afternoon. Highlights included:

  • Homer Buchanan taking shots at customers’ feet, demanding that they dance.
  • Zeke Buchanan relieving himself wherever he pleased.
  • Stephen Buchanan exhibiting a firm belief that pants were optional.
  • And last but not least, Augustus Buchanan singing “Camptown Races” over and over again.

Miss Bonnie and Waldo stood behind the bar, taking it all in.

“Do they just live here now?” Waldo asked.

“I guess,” Miss Bonnie said. “I don’t know.”

“Can’t you do something?” the barkeep inquired.

“I keep trying to talk to Mr. Blythe,” Miss Bonnie said. “But he’s so damn convincing.”

Blake pushed his way through the swinging doors and found a seat next to Townsend.

“Well, you won’t believe the horse shit I just heard,” Blake said as he plunked a few coins on the bar. Waldo poured him his usual scotch and handed it over.

“Bathing’s become socially acceptable?” Miss Bonnie asked.

Townsend saw Miss Bonnie’s dig and raised her a “You’re a bigger drunk than U.S. Grant?”

Everyone looked at Waldo. He had nothing. “Um…you’re stupid?”

“Ha, ha ha,” Blake said. He downed the shot and pounded the glass on the bar. “No, no and you’re one to talk, Waldo. Get this. I’m down at the store…”

“…buying your pecker rash cream…” Miss Bonnie interjected.

“Can I tell a story here?” Blake asked.

Waldo set the barfly up with another shot. “Thank you,” Blake said. “And I hear old Mrs. Anderson talking about fixing up a dress for the Widow Farquhar. Turns out she and that lousy excuse for a marshal are tying the knot.”

Miss Bonnie felt her sense of humor leave her in an instant.

“Slade and the Widow Farquhar?” Townsend said.  “Get out!”

“I will not, thank you very much,” Blake said.

“Eh, who cares?” Townsend asked. “Good for him.”

“‘Good for him?’” Blake repeated. “Shit, the Widow Farquhar’s got all that money and  land. Slade’s making out like a bandit.”

“She’s a real looker that Widow Farquhar,” Waldo said.

“I wouldn’t mind being in Slade’s shoes,” Townsend added.  “Waking up every morning next to the Widow Farquhar.”

“What has that son of a bitch ever done to deserve a woman like the Widow Farquhar?” Blake asked.

Miss Bonnie had heard enough. “Maybe he does more than just sit on his ass and pour booze down his gullet all day, ya’ degenerate!”

The proprietor stormed off upstairs.  When she reached the top, she turned around and yelled, “And stop calling her ‘the Widow Farquhar!'”

“What’s eating her?” Townsend asked.

Waldo shrugged his shoulders.

“Hike up your boots, boys,” Townsend said. “There’s a red flood a-comin!”

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RIP Harper Lee

The author of To Kill a Mockingbird has passed away at age 89.  She gave us Atticus Finch, a sequel that came out last year, and she was Truman Capote’s homie.

What say you, 3.5 readers?

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Lady Melisandre at a Baby Shower

Hey 3.5 Readers,

BQB here.  Late Show with Seth Meyers had a funny skit in which Lady Melisandre attends a baby shower and is her usual self.

So Game of Thrones will be back on the air soon, what are you hoping to see?

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