Monthly Archives: March 2016

Untitled Killer Doll Project – Chapter 3

NOTE: I would rewrite this to have “Molly” actually come in later with a gaudy dress on and a pillow stuffed up her dress to simulate a Kim Kardashian butt.

It would be the beginning of a subplot that Kit and Molly were once friends as they were working comedy clubs on their way up and if he could only get control of his psychotic tendencies, he might be able to make a go of it with her.

In his dressing room, Kit ran a towel over his hair, drying up all the excess water. He then removed his shirt, revealing a pair of cut abs that would turn the head of any woman.

There was a knock on the door.

“Kit, can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Cast member Al McKenna, dressed up in a banana costume, his face painted yellow and everything, entered. He handed Kit a furry gorilla costume.

“We’re up next,” Josh said.

“OK,” Kit said. “No…wait. I thought the Kardashian thing was next.”

“What?” Al asked.

“Molly dresses up like Kim Kardashian and Caboodle and I get in a fight over who gets to marry her butt.”

“Oh,” Al said. “Yeah, they cut that.”

“Why the hell did they do that?” Kit asked.

“Purple Horizon went on too long,” Al explained. “The guitar player whipped out a picture of the president, wiped his ass with it, then started lecturing everyone about American foreign policy toward Kuala Lumpur or some shit.”

“Aww damn it,” Kit said. “That sketch was gold!”

“Sorry man,” Al said. “It happens…live TV and all. Anyway, they want you out there.”

“OK,” Kit said. “I’m coming.”

Kit stepped into the gorilla costume, zipped up the back, and tucked the mask under his shoulder. He was about to leave when he spotted Caboodle lying on the couch, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

“Sorry buddy,” Kit said as he stuffed Caboodle into a trunk. “Maybe next time.”

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Untitled Killer Doll Project – Chapter 2

NOTE:  I’d probably take the part where Luther and Lindsey are talking in the green room and make it another chapter.

Also, the song Kit sings – that was just something I churned out quick.  I thought it would be funny for the dummy to rap.

But looking back on it, network television would not allow a song with that many swears…

Kit looked at the dummy sitting on his lap. Mr. Kaboodle had been constructed with a face similar to Kit’s, but while Kit was handsome and athletic, his alter ego had a paunch belly. Kit was all decked out in designer wear while Kaboodle wore a pair of plaid pants, a green sweater vest, and a bowtie. To top it all off, Caboodle wore an oversized pair of horn rimmed glasses whereas Kit had undergone laser eye surgery years earlier.

“Well, Mr. Kaboodle,” Kit said. “Isn’t it nice to be here in LA?”

“It sure is,” Mr. Kaboodle replied as his mouth popped up and down. “Finally I’m not the only one in the joint with plastic parts!”

“Oh come on Mr. Kaboodle,” Kit said. “Not everyone in Hollywood has had work done.”

Mr. Kaboodle’s head turned away from Kit and toward the audience. His little eyebrows shifted up and down.

“You sure?” the dummy asked.

Kit moved his arm and Kaboodle leaned forward in the direction of a buxom blonde sitting in the front row.

“Because that floozy looks like she could float us all to Tahiti with those puppies!”

The audience went into hysterics.

Kaboodle’s head spun around and around as he shouted, “WOWZA!”

Once his head was stationary again and the laughter died down, Caboodle looked up to Kit.

“Are you sure we’re in LA?”

“Yeah,” Kit said.

“Positive?”

“Yes!”

“Are you absolutely positively, positive?” Caboodle asked.

“Yes!” Kit shouted, feigning annoyance. “Why?!”

Kaboodle’s head spun around and faced the blonde again.

“Because I’m staring at the Silicone Valley right now and it never looked so good…”

“Mr. Kaboodle, you’re incorrigible!” Kit said.
“There’s a dot com in my pants…”

“All right,” Kit said. “That’s enough.”

Kaboodle’s eyebrows dropped down.

“Ugh…and it just went bust.”

A camera zoomed in on the blonde woman, who was cackling uncontrollably.

Inside the greenroom, Luther and Lacey watched the show on a monitor.

“Oh my God,” Lacey said. “He’s nailing it.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Luther asked as he chomped on a cigar.

“Yes!” Lacey replied. “All he’s talked about all week is how he can’t take the pressure any more, how he knew he was going to bomb and become an absolute laughingstock.”

“Aww, that’s just nervous nelly bullshit,” Luther said. “Speaking of, that’s was a bullshit move you pulled on my man.”

“Excuse me?” Lacey asked.

“Who in their right mind tells a man who’s about to host a live television show ‘I love you’ for the first damn time? That shit could have seriously messed with his head.”

“How do you know it was the first time?” Lacey asked.

“My star playa’ tells my everything,” Luther replied. “He thought you didn’t love him at all, that your ass was going to walk out on him any day now.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Shit,” Luther said as he flicked open a golden plated lighter and lit up his smoke. “Because take away all those muscles he’s built up, those teeth he had fixed and that tummy he had tucked and he’s still the same old insecure dumb ass I plucked out of a two-bit night club five years ago.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Lacey said. “If anything, I’ve been worried he’s going to leave me what with all the buzz around him lately.”

On the monitor, Kit could be seen carrying Caboodle across the stage and down the stairs, making his way to the voluptuous blonde woman who’d been the butt of Caboodle’s obscene innuendo.

“I doubt it,” Luther said between puffs. “I’ve been in this game for a long time and let me tell you, your boy is one of the few special ones.”

“How so?” Lacey asked.

“By and large, my bread and butter is made off of people who look like they were born to be movie stars,” Luther said. “People who’ve lived charmed lives. People who’ve never had to worry about anything because they’re so goddamn good looking that no one ever denied them anything. Your boy, on the other hand, he had to work for it and let me tell you, when you’ve got to work for something, you appreciate it that much more. I just hope you appreciate him.”

“I do,” Lacey said.

“Good,” Luther said. “Last thing I need is my star playa’s head out of the game with a broke ass heart.”

A pimply faced college age page stuck his head into the green room.

“Sir, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Suck my black ass, bitch,” the big time agent said. “I’m Luther Fucking Beaumont and I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

The page shrugged his shoulders and moved on. Lacey, too much of a lady to say anything, turned to the monitor and focused on Kit’s performance.

Kaboodle was checking out the blonde’s copious bosom.

“I think I’m in love,” the dummy said before his head turned upwards to face the woman. “Oh hello. You’re nice too.”

More laughter from the audience.

Kaboodle’s head spun around to face Kit.

“We need to cut this act short.”

“Why?” Kit asked.

“I’ve got wood.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “You ARE wood!”

“Well then,” Kit replied. “This is all very redundant then, isn’t it?”

“Ma’am,” Kit said as he reached out his hand. “Join us, won’t you?”

Surprised, the woman took Kit’s hand and allowed the performer to lead her up on stage, where she took a seat on a stool.

“Hello,” Kit said. “What’s your name?”

“Melissa,” the blonde said with an adorable babydoll voice.

“Melissa, do we know each other?” Kit asked.

“No,” she replied.

“Would you like to get to know me?” Caboodle asked.

Unsure of what to say to the goofy looking dummy, Melissa just smiled and snickered.

“Tell me about yourself,” Kit said. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a secretary,” Melissa said.

“Wowza,” Kaboodle said. “I bet she takes fabulous dictation.”

“Oh Kaboodle, knock it off,” Kit said. “Are you married, Melissa?”

“Divorced,” Melissa replied.

Kaboodle stared at the blonde’s bosom again.

“I’d of fought for custody of those things.”

“Enough, Caboodle!” Kit said. “Have you ever worked a dummy?”

Melissa shook her head no.

“Of course she has,” Caboodle said. “Probably worked her husband over real good in court.”

“Stop it,” Kit said.

“And you deserve every penny of it, honey,” Caboodle added.

“Well Melissa,” Kit said. “I need you to do a favor for me because I’m going to do something I’ve never done before…”

“…tell a joke that lands?” Caboodle interrupted.

“Shut up, you,” Kit said as he set the dummy down on Melissa’s lap.

Kaboodle made a few stifled “Mmmpph mmpphhh!” sounds.

“Now Melissa, what I need you to do is work Mr. Caboodle’s mouth for me because he won’t be able to talk again until you do…”

“Mmmmph!” went Caboodle.
Kit scratched his chin, looked to the camera as if lost deep in thought and said, “Actually, come to think of it, this is the most peace and quiet I’ve had for awhile…”

The ventriloquist waved to the audience, shouted, “Good night, ladies and gentlemen!” and started to walk off the stage as Caboodle’s “MMMPPPHHHS!” grew louder.

“Oh all right,” Kit said as he returned. “Melissa, what I need you to do is reach your hand into the back of Caboodle’s trousers there…”

“Mmmpph?”

“And start feeling around until you find a lever…”

Melissa did as requested until Caboodle’s jaw dropped down.

“WOWZA!” Kaboodle shouted.

“Are you ok, Kaboodle?” Kit asked.

“Never better,” the dummy replied. “Finally, a woman gives me a reach around and I don’t even have to buy her dinner first.”

The audience went nuts.

“Kaboodle, please!” Kit shouted. “You’re on network television!”

“Oh, then I really am getting the reach around,” Caboodle said.

“Melissa, just go ahead and work that lever,” Kit said. “I know you’re new to this but try to move Kaboodle’s cake hole in time with what I’m saying.”

Melissa moved the lever up and down slowly, not in time with Kit at all.

“Just pretend this is a 1960’s monster movie, ladies and gentlemen,” Kit said.

“Oh…my…God!” Caboodle said. “It…is…Godzilla!”

Kit waited for the laughter to die down. He removed his jacket and set it down on a table, then picked up a glass of water.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kit said. “You’ve all seen that tired old cliche where a ventriloquist drinks a glass of water while his dummy sings, haven’t you?”

Kit started drinking and Caboodle immediately chimed in with, “Oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’, Clementine!”

“Piece of cake,” Kit said as he set the empty glass of water down. “Easy as pie. How’re you doing over there, Kaboodle?”

“Oh just fine,” the dummy said as Melissa did her best to operate him. “Kind of wish this broad would have warmed up her hands first though.”

“They’re a little cold?” Kit asked.

“It’s like an iceberg just got rammed up my Titanic,” Caboodle replied.

“Well don’t worry, buddy, we’re almost done.”

“I didn’t say I wanted it to stop,” Caboodle said.

“Ladies and gentlemen…”

“I want to be Melissa’s next husband,” Caboodle interrupted.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kit continued. “I’m about to do something that no ventriloquist has ever done before in the history of ventriloquism.”

“Get laid?” Caboodle inquired.

“Shut up, you!”

“What?” Caboodle asked.

“I’m going to…”

“It’s just that all you guys do is sit around and make dolls talk all day,” Caboodle said.

“Enough, Caboodle.”

“Makes women dry up like the Great Mojave is all I’m sayin’”

“Caboodle!!!”

“OK…OK…I’ll be good.”

A group of stage hands popped out from behind the curtain. One man produced a pair of handcuffs and restrained Kit’s hands behind his back.

“Oh finally,” Caboodle said. “The fuzz got wise to all those dirty websites you’ve been looking at.”

Kit sat down in a chair and one of the stage hands pushed down on the back of hit, holding the performer at an angle.

Another man held up a full water cooler jug.

“That’s right,” Kit said. “Some ventriloquists make their dummies sing while drink water. I’m going to make mine sing while I get water boarded!”
The audience let out a collective gasp.

“Wait a minute!” Caboodle said.

“What?” Kit asked.

“If you’re going to pull off a miraculous stunt, you’ve got to make me sing something with a little more pep than ‘Oh My Darlin,’ Clementine!”

“I don’t know,” Kit replied. “Can the network afford the rights to a big song?”

The camera cut to cast member Josh Wiley, wearing a cheap suit, gray haired wig and a big button that read, “Big Time Network Executive.”

“I’ll allow it,” Josh said.

“What’re you thinking, Kaboodle?” Kit asked. “Pop? Rock? A little Rhythm and Blues?”

“You know me, Kit,” the dummy said. “I’m a straight up gangsta rapper from back in the day, son.”

Kit turned to the band leader.

“Jimbo, can you guys give me Stank Daddy’s latest?”

Big Jimbo Stretch, a cool cat whose face was hidden behind a pair of aviator shades and a long beard, lead the Studio 109 band in mimicking “Grab Yo’ Nine,” the latest single off of rapper Stank Daddy’s most recent album.

“Gentlemen,” Kit said to the stage hands. “Do your worst.”

The Studio 109 Band laid down the beat as one hand placed a black towel over Kit’s face. Another proceeded to empty the water jug all over the performer’s face.

Back in the green room, Lacey turned away from the monitor and covered her eyes.

“Ohhhh, this is too much,” she said.

“He’s got it,” Luther said.

In the studio, the audience watched…shocked, amazed, unable to avert their eyes. Kit endured the abuse and Caboodle remained silent for ten seconds until he busted out a hilariously squeaky rendition of the top rap song on the charts.

Bitch betta grab you nine!
Wanna start somethin’ then it’s about time,
To see yo ass on the street.
Busted all up like a pile of meat.
And I’ll be layin’ back feelin’ fine.

Bitch betta grab yo nine!
If you gonna step up to my ass!
Click clack goes my gat cuz you know I be strapped
And you know I know how to drop a sucka fast so
And I’ll never do a minute of the time.

All you fools thinkin’ you betta than me,
Fresher than me
That you got somethin’ on Stank Daddy
Must be trippin’ out yo damn mind…
Muthafuckin bitch betta grab yo NINE!

The network, of course, bleeped out all the naughty words but the audience lapped it all up and were on their feet with a standing ovation as the stage hands uncured Kit and helped him to his feet.

Sopping wet all over, the newly minted star looked at the camera.

“Thank you, thank you,” Kit said. “People, get your hands off that remote because you don’t want to miss a minute of this show. Purple Horizon is next!”

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Untitled Killer Doll Project – Chapter 1

NOTE:  Yes.  Kit’s girlfriend starts out as Lacey and then her name changes to Lindsey.  This is all something I wrote in one night and is grossly unedited…much more so than usual lol.

Between the hot lights and the tuxedo he was stuffed in, Kit was burning up. He reached for his water bottle and began to chug, only to stop when a delicate hand cut him off.

“Not too much,” Lacey said. “The last thing you want is to get out there and feel like you need to pee your brains out.”

“Right,” Kit replied.

Out on stage, the house band was rocking out while a golden throated announcer read the opening credits.

“From historic studio 109 in sunny Los Angeles, it’s Friday Follies! Tonight’s featured players include Molly Shiner…Ken Dobson…Josh Wiley…”

Kit coughed into his fist.

“You ok?” Lacey asked.

Our performer took a peak through the curtain. It was a full house in the studio. Standing room only and a crowd filled with beaming faces. People excited to see him. What a concept.

“Babe?” Lacey asked as she waved her hand up and down in front of Kit’s blank face.

“Huh?” Kit asked. “Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

A strong hand whacked Kit on the back. He turned to his right to find a tall bald man, decked out in a finely tailored three-piece suit.

“You got this shit, playa,” the man said.

“Thanks Luther,” Kit replied.

The announcer carried on.

“Diana Diaz…Al McKenna…Big Jimbo Stretch and the Studio 109 Band!”

Luther stood in front of Kit and rested his hands on Kit’s shoulders.

“Forget the audience,” Luther said. “Hell, forget about the millions of people watching at home. Tune everyone out and it will just be you…”

The well dressed Tinseltown power broker looked at Kit’s left hand, which was being used to hold a goofy looking, wild eyed ventriloquist dummy.

“…and your little friend here.”
“Hey!” the dummy whispered in a squeaky, cartoonish voice. “Who you callin’ little ya’ fat sack of crap?”

Luther grinned and slapped his client on the back again.

“You got this baby. Who’s my star playa’?”

“I am,” Kit muttered, though he was clearly not feeling it.

“Who?” Luther asked.

“Me.”

“Let me hear you say it, baby,” Luther said. “Who’s my A-number one star ass player?”

“I’m your star player,” Kit said.

Luther wagged a finger in front of Kit’s face.

“And don’t you forget it baby.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” the dummy asked.

“OK,” Luther said. “Don’t strain your pipes, star playa’.”

Lacey licked the palm of her hand and straightened an out of place blonde curl on top of Kit’s head.

“Sorry,” Lacey said. “There. Now you’re perfect.”

Lacey pressed her full red lips up against Kit’s. Beyond the curtain, saxophones were wailing, guitars were being strummed, drums beaten but all Kit could hear were those three special words coming from Lacey’s sweet voice.

“I love you.”

It was the first time she’d ever uttered that special phrase and it certainly was interesting timing that she decided to wait right before the biggest performance of Kit’s life to say them, but what the hell. When something’s right, it’s right.

Kit looked at his girlfriend, stared at her big blue eyes, and did not hesitate one iota.

“I love you too.”

Big Jimbo Stretch’s sax solo reached a crescendo. A steady drumroll followed.

“And now, making their debut on the Studio 109 stage, your hosts for this evening, KIT N’ KABOODLE!”

Applause. Hoots. Hollers. Whistles.

Kit made a beeline for the curtain but was stopped by Luther’s hand, which was once again on Kit’s shoulder.

“Bring down the house tonight and you’ll be set for life, playa,” Luther said. “If you do, I guarantee you there will not be a stick big enough to beat everyone in Hollywood off your ass.”

Kit nodded.

“I’ve got this.”

The performer composed himself, removing the terrified expression from his face and replacing it with one of calm, cool confidence. He made a seat with his left hand, parked his dummy in it with his right, flashed a smile full of pearly whites and walked out onto the stage like he owned it.

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Untitled Killer Doll Project

Hey 3.5 Readers.

BQB here.  So last October, what with it being Halloween month and all, an idea popped into my head and much to my surprise, I banged out 6,000 words in an evening.

Let me backup.  Out of all monsters out there, I’ve always felt killer dolls are the scariest.

Zombies?  Werewolves?  Vampires?  Scary but you’ll unlikely ever see one.

Killer dolls?  Shit.  We all have at least one doll in the house.  Do you know for sure it isn’t thinking dastardly thoughts?

 

Anyway.  The set-up.  In the present (i.e. 2016) a ventriloquist/comedian hits the big time.  He’s been a B lister for awhile, making TV appearances with his dummy.  But after a big gig, he starts to really get noticed.

And he’s a handsome, studly type guy so his agent starts to get him serious movie roles…without the dummy.

The dummy is not pleased.  Throughout the story, it is left open to the reader’s imagination whether the dummy is actually alive or if he’s being operated by the ventriloquist.  Little hints are dropped along the way that could lead either way.

I’m a little unsure what the whole plot would be.  So far it is basically the comedian has serious problems with drugs and alcohol and at the opening of the tale, he has already uh…murdered three ex-girlfriends and is deciding whether or not to murder a fourth.

The way I have it presently is that the dummy eggs him on to do it but I’m thinking about reworking it so that maybe the dummy is almost like his confidant…telling him not to do evil stuff but then advising him how to get off the hook once he’s in trouble.

I’m still thinking about what the hell the plot is.

Anyway, I put it away for awhile.  Left it alone.  But then every couple months I open it up, having forgotten what I wrote and I laugh and laugh.  The dummy is a riot.

I’m on the fence.  I think it’s a great idea.  But even just in the beginning there’s lots and lots of swearing, violence, maybe even sex…I’m not sure that’s where I want to go as an author.

But it is funny.  Or at least I think it’s funny.

Obviously, I’m going to finish How the West Was Zombed first.  I don’t want to fall into the trap of starting a novel then skipping out to start another one.

But I was thinking, maybe I’ll toss the 6,000 words out on here for a little while and you all could tell me if this is a viable project down the road or if I should be ashamed for writing such horrible garbage in which case, let’s all forget about it and move on lol.

Because, and just a warning – it is a divergence for lovable magic bookshelf caretaker BQB.

 

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Mitch Albom Article – Teacher Fired – Cell Phone Privacy

Hey 3.5 Readers.

If you’re like me, you’re a nerd interested in technology, so this story I found on USA TODAY stood out to me.

It is by Mitch Albom, author of Tuesdays with Morrie, which is a great book by the way.

The synopsis:  Teacher took nude selfie for husband for Valentine’s Day.  Left it on her phone.  Left phone unattended on her desk.  Student picked up phone, went through it, found the naughty photo, took a picture of it, sent it around everywhere, teacher gets fired, eventually student gets in trouble.

Tough case, right? Yes, it is very stupid to take a naked picture of yourself and doubly stupid to leave it on your phone.  There’s no guarantee of privacy on the Internet so anything you don’t want “out there” shouldn’t be created in the first place.

But then again, this is her private phone.  No one has the right to go through any item that belongs to someone and look around through it.

Yet, I can also see the argument that she brought this phone into a school.  When she did, she brought every virtual piece of data on the phone into the school, including the nude photo.

Definitely should have had a passcode on the phone.  Who doesn’t have a passcode on their phone these days?

I can sympathize with the teacher.  Some silly thing she did in passing, something she thought only she had access to, never thought it would lead to anything.

I do think this is an issue where lawyers.have taken away common sense in the workplace.  The common sense approach would have been to give the teacher a lecture to never let this happen again or else you’re fired.

But I assume the administrators felt the safest thing (for them) would be to fire her outright.

Anyway, lessons to be learned:

  • Don’t take nude photos of yourself.  I don’t because no one wants to see that.  You shouldn’t because no matter how secure you think you are, it can always get out somehow.
  • If you’re stupid and do so anyway, don’t leave them on your device. Delete, delete, delete.
  • Keep in mind when you take your phone into a public building, you’re taking everything on it into a public building.
  • As a general rule, since your privacy can’t be guaranteed on the Internet, the best practice is to not do anything on the Internet that you wouldn’t want to explain to the authorities and/or your mother later.
  • Put a passcode on your phone!
  • Don’t leave your phone unattended.  Keep it with you at all times.

 

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 27

Just some development with Joe and Miles. Father and son fight, father giving an order, son being fresh, etc. Except that leads to father wolfing out.

Hopefully this starts building the narrative that Miles is an amateur werewolf who isn’t ready for combat and even his father knows this.

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Joe found Miles inside the church, drawing away. A grizzly bear this time.

“Go.”

“What?” Miles asked.

“Get up and go,” Joe said. “Right now. Start walking. Anywhere. I’ll find you.”

Miles stood up. “What’s going on?”

“I am your father and you will do as I say!”

Miles sniffed the air. “Blythe! He’s in town.”

“Now you know,” Joe said. “Get out of here.”

“No,” Miles said.

“Miles you know what he does,” Joe said. “He’ll use you to make me suffer.”

“I’m not going,” Miles said.

Joe grabbed his son by the shirt collar and dragged him toward the door. Miles dug his heels in and slapped at his father’s hand.

“If she were here she’d want you to go,” Joe said.

“BUT SHE’S NOT IS SHE?” Miles yelled as he struggled with his old man before finally clocking him a good one upside the head.

That didn’t…

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 26

Gunther again tries to be the voice of reason.

Jack’s comment about “the Injuns” and Slade punching him in response – I felt that was just showing that Slade really did feel loyalty toward Standing Eagle and the whole mess at the beginning really was a misunderstanding, he wasn’t trying to hoodwink them.

Blythe intervenes with more glamouring. Is it a plot hole that he doesn’t let Jack try to kill Slade?

Eh – my argument would be again, there are many drinkers of Doc’s medicine around and Blythe doesn’t want anyone dying and becoming zombified until his zombie transport train arrives.

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“Rain!”

Halfway down the main drag, Gunther caught up with his now ex-boss. Slade was on fire and making a beeline for the Bonnie Lass, outside of which Blythe and his new gaggle of employees were congregating.

“God damn it son, will you hold up?”

Slade kept walking.

“You think you could have run that stunt you pulled back there by me first?” Gunther asked.

No response.

“I’ve had this job before you were even born and now I gotta up and leave it because of some slick sleazy lawyer?”

“No one asked you to,” Slade replied.

“Shit boy,” Gunther said. “Forty years I’ve never not once had a Marshal’s back and I’m not about to start now. Do you at least got some sort of plan?”

As Slade drew near, Jack rubbed his eyes and cried some crocodile tears. “Boo hoo hoo those poor Injuns!!!”

WAM! Slade’s right cross…

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 25

This is a take on the old “cop doesn’t like how things went down so he slams down his badge on the captain’s desk and walks off” scene.

Except it is a judge instead of a captain, but he’s a higher authority figure so he’ll do.

Gunther doesn’t really want to, he’s been a deputy for over forty years. But he’s loyal.

But to be funny, I have him struggle to take his star off. It gets stuck. Won’t come off. The judge gets tired waiting.

I’ve had moments like that. Someone does something dramatic and does it so flawlessly. I try to do the same and get no cooperation whatsoever.

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After the courtroom cleared out, Slade confronted Sampson.

“What the hell are you doing?” Slade asked, his voice raspier than ever.

“Marshal, I hate this as much as you do but the Governor has the right to issue pardons and once he does there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. Take it up with him.”

Slade, man of action that he was, ripped the star off his shirt, slammed it down on the Judge’s bench, and stormed out of the courtroom.

“Slade!” the Judge called after him. “Don’t be ridiculous! This town needs you!!!”

Gunther’s stomach churned. The idea of leaving a job he held most of his life was unsettling, as was the idea of being disloyal to Slade.

“I don’t reckon there’s some kind of generous retirement payment for a man who’s held the position of Deputy Marshal for over forty years, is there?”

“Not that I…

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 24

This scene needs a lot of work.

At the time, I wasn’t exactly sure what Joe’s relationship to Blythe was, I just knew I wanted Joe to serve as the character who gets info of what zombies vampires and werewolves are to Slade and Co. (although as it turns out later, Miles takes that role on).

I’m thinking maybe Joe has known of Blythe’s invasion plans for years, having worked for him only to grow a conscience, and well, he has reason to hate Blythe as we’ll see soon.

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From the moment Blythe walked into the courtroom, Joe felt the beast surge within him. Under his shirt, he felt his chest hair grow. His fingernails started to jut out. But he took a deep breath and held his alternate form at bay.

He and Blythe had met before. Joe positioned himself outside the door and grabbed the counselor’s arm as he walked out into the hallway.

Hewett and Becker drew their weapons instantly. Joe released his grip.

“Joseph!” Blythe said. “So lovely to see you again.”

“We have unfinished business.”

“Do we?” Blythe asked. “My, my. You never learned your lesson, did you?”

Blythe patted his hand against Joe’s cheek. “So much sorrow written all over your face. Such a pathetic inability to let trivial matters go. How dreadfully unkind time has been to you.”

“I will end you,” Joe said. “The biggest mistake you ever made was not…

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 23

Enter Henry Alan Blythe.

I picture him as a pretty-ish kind of handsome. Like there’s manly handsome and pretty handsome. John Snow on Game of Thrones, for example, is “pretty” handsome. Or Johnny Depp.

He’s got a Southern drawl…I don’t want to go full Foghorn Leghorn but you know, he’s got the “I’m just a simple country lawyer” thing going on.

I worried about him at first because we already have one educated know-it-all who likes to talk and uses big words – i.e. Doc.

However, as I thought about it – Doc has no clue what he’s doing. Doc deceives people on the basis that he believes he’s not deceiving at all. He’s basically a patsy.

Blythe knows exactly what he’s doing, what he wants, what he needs to say to get it.

He shows the judge a blank piece of paper but with his eye trick convinces him it is a pardon for the Buchanan Boys.

My hope is vampire fans will pick up that’s a glamour – vampire hypnosis.

He says something – the recipient more or less says it back but says it in a way so as to show he believes it is his idea. Reminiscent of “these aren’t the droids you’re looking for” from Star Wars i.e. the Jedi mind trick.

I worry this might be a plot hole that needs shoring up.

Why the hell is he bothering to save the Buchanan Boys if he’s just going to kill them the next night anyway?

The best argument I’ve come up with: they would have gone from the trial to the gallows immediately, been hung and turned into zombies (because they were fans of Doc’s special medicine) and then the townsfolk would be clued in on his plot to transport zombies across the river before his zombie transport train arrives.

Maybe he can explain that a little better. Maybe Hewitt and Becker can ask him about it.

Meanwhile, as henchmen go, I think Hewitt and Becker are great. They don’t really back-sass or disobey, they don’t get a lot in the way of character development – i.e. we don’t learn much about them personally, but as we’ll see in upcoming scenes, they’re scary.

because they had been sucking down Doc’s medicine,

bookshelfbattle's avatarBookshelf Battle

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Judge Sampson was not a man to be trifled with.

“The Legion Corporation? This case has nothing to do with your company!”

Blythe had a prominent Southern accent.  So flamboyant was his drawl that it was almost as if he spent a lot of time working on it. The only thing he was missing was the mint julep.

“Your honor, may it please the court…”

“It does not please the court!” the Judge shouted. “The court is very displeased!”

The doors opened again and two men entered.

“Now who are these two peckerwoods?” the Judge so astutely inquired.

“Apologies,” Blythe said. “Where are my manners?”

The counselor pointed to his left, toward a man with a high widow’s peak, a square jaw and a stern face.

“This is Mr. Dalton Hewett.”

Blythe shifted his attention to his right, toward a man with short brown hair and a handlebar mustache.  This…

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