I’ve got nothing to offer today, 3.5 readers.
So instead, tell me what’s on your 3.5 minds in the comments.
Bookshelf Battle
The only site where new bestsellers are forced to do battle for space on a nerd's bookshelf.
Monthly Archives: May 2016
The Yeti Covers Adele’s “Hello”
BQB EDITORIAL NOTE: Color me surprised as I woke up this morning to my arch nemesis, the enormous furry snow monster known simply as, “The Yeti” attempting to make amends with me by singing a cover song of Adele’s Hello.
Oh, for those just joining in, I’ve been keeping a Yeti prisoner in my basement ever since he broke into BQB HQ and attempted to shut down the Bookshelf Battle Blog because Yetis are boring as hell and they want the world to be as boring as they are.
He’s been free to go for awhile now but he just hangs out, pretends he’s a prisoner, and eats all my food.
Here’s what the Yeti serenaded me with:
Stupid Yeti
Hello…it’s the Yeti.
I was wondering if after all these months you’d like to meet.
To go over…all the ways I hate your stupid blog.
They say that it’s supposed to be funny.
But I ain’t…laughed…too much.
Hello, can you hear the Yeti?
I’m in your basement dreaming about the fights we used to have.
When we were younger…and we were free.
When we used to roundhouse kick each other in the face with our feet.
There’s such a rift…between us.
And our Thursday night Scandal parties don’t help.
Hello from your stupid basement!
My good Yeti name faces defacement!
But I want to tell you I’m sorry…for not stopping your blog.
The world’s brains it does clog.
Hello, from your basement.
At least I can say that I tried.
To roundhouse kick you in the face, BQB.
For your blog is more abominable than me.
Hello, do we have cheese dip?
If you’re going to keep me as a Yeti prisoner I might as well eat.
And I have demands.
Like can I get free cable down here?
Yes it’s no secret that the both of us,
Will fight for…ever.
So hello from your stupid basement (stupid basement!)
I must have tried a thousand times (thousand times)
To pull the plug on your stupid ass blog,
And make the world a better place.
Hello from my Yeti jail (Yeti jail)
There are no hot Yeti chicks down here for me to nail (for me to nail)
And I want to tell you I’m sorry…for not roundhouse kicking you more.
It would be an improvement to your stupid nerd face.
Hello from my Yeti captivity!
Your basement has no Wi-Fi connectivity!
And I really wanted to stream some Netflix.
Are there any shows with Yeti chicks?
Hello from my Yeti dungeon!
Oh BQB your dumbass head I want to bludgeon!
In our next roundhouse kick to the face competition rematch
Until then I want cookies, so bake me a batch.
How the West Was Zombed = 70,000 Words
Hey 3.5 Readers.
BQB here reporting another milestone – I have hit 70,000 words on How the West Was Zombed.
And with some cool chapters lately (the Reverend becoming vampire chow, Doc’s impromptu escape plan) have me feeling my second wind.
Still a lot of work to go but it is happening.
Have you been reading, 3.5 readers? What do you think?
How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 92
The double doors at the back of the livery were secured with a long board shoved between two handles, one on each door. A pair of werewolf claws smashed through it and the doors were swung open.
Morris and Vaughn stomped in with their pointy teeth bared. Gentry, still in human form, entered with his pistol drawn.
What he saw next astonished him.
Annabelle’s body was laid out on the floor, completely motionless. Her eyes were closed. Her face was soaked with blood and guts.
Doc was straddling her. Blood dripped from his lips as he slowly lifted his head away from Annabelle’s neck to look at Gentry.
The physician was not his usual chatty self. “Gack…ack…ack.”
“Son of a bitch!” shouted Gunther.
Gentry and his companions stepped past Doc to find Gunther on the ground, clutching his stomach with his left hand. With his right, he struggled to grab his gun. It too laid in the dirt, ever so close but just out of his reach.
“God damn you to hell, Doc!” Gunther cried. “Why did I ever trust you?”
As Doc turned his attention back to Annabelle’s body, Morris and Vaughn stood together and watched as Gentry knelt down beside Gunther and pointed his pistol at the old man.
“Where is everyone?” Gentry asked. “And don’t take me for a fool or it’ll be the last thing you do.”
“That bastard,” Gunther said. “Tricked us all into throwing down our guns. Said he’d go out and smooth talk your boss into letting us go but…”
Gunther coughed and gasped for air.
“…then the cocksucker just up and executed everybody one by one! Stuffed all the bodies in the wagon. Said he was going to bring them all out to your boss as a peace offering so he’d let him go.”
Gentry grinned. “How fiendishly clever.”
Gunther let go of his stomach to reveal the blood all over his shirt and vest. He grabbed Gentry’s arm.
“But just as he was about to leave…he…he turned into a damn zombie and ate his girlfriend!”
“Well,” Gentry said. “Now I’ve seen everything.”
Coming from behind their heads, Morris and Vaughn could hear the distinct clicking sound of two gun hammers being cocked.
Gentry was facing the old man, but his ears picked up Doc’s voice.
“I wouldn’t say that just yet, my good man.”
Two shots. Two silver bullets pierced the backs of two werewolf heads. Gentry turned just in time to see their gargantuan hairy buddies hit the ground with colossal thuds.
Very much alive, Doc and Annabelle stood there with smoking guns in their hands. Doc had used one of his spring loaded weapons while Annabelle made use of Miss Bonnie’s derringer.
Meanwhile, Gunther appeared to be feeling a whole lot better as he reached for his gun and blew a hole right through the back of Gentry’s head, which led to his carcass collapsing next to the other werewolves.
The back doors of Doc’s wagon flew open and Slade poked his head out. “Did we get ‘em?”
“Oh we got ‘em all right,” Gunther said.
The old man looked at his clothes. “Aw dang it. Rabbit blood all over the vest Mavis made for me.”
Doc took Annabelle’s hand. “Yes, and I do apologize for rubbing a bunny corpse all over your face my dear.”
Annabelle shrugged. “Eh, it’s ok. After working in Bonnie’s joint for five years, it’s actually not the most disgusting thing that’s ever been rubbed on my face.”
Doc nodded. “That’s the spirit.”
Miss Bonnie jumped out of the back of the wagon and walked over to Doc. “I stand corrected.”
“Yes,” Doc said. “’Tis quite alright, Miss Lassiter I suppose in my new life as a partial zombie I shall have to suffer all manner of aspersions on my character.”
“Just shut up and take an apology, asshole,” Miss Bonnie replied.
“So taken,” Doc said.
Miss Bonnie hugged Annabelle, doing her best to not get any blood on herself. “Take care of yourself.”
“I will,” Annabelle said.
The redhead hopped up into the driver’s seat. Slade took Sarah’s hand and helped her out of the back of the wagon.
“Rain,” the bride said. “Do you really think it wise for us to split up?”
“Things aren’t safe here,” Slade replied as he handed Miss Bonnie her shotgun.
“But you won’t be able to protect me if I leave,” Sarah said.
“Miss Bonnie’s got you covered,” Slade said.
“Oh Rain,” Sarah said as she went in for one last hug. “I know you’ll be ok, you’re so perfect and all. But should something happen to me I want you to know how much I love you.”
There Sarah stood, with her big eyes staring up at Slade, waiting for the customary reply a woman typically expects when she tells her man that she loves him.
“God damn it,” Slade said.
Miss Bonnie slapped her forehead upon hearing that response.
“What?” Sarah asked, her face giving off the expression of a wounded doe.
“Uh,” Slade said. “God damn it that we have to part ways is all…but…”
The stoic looked up at Miss Bonnie. Exasperated, she nodded her head up and down.
“I love you too,” Slade said. “And don’t worry. Everything’s going to be ok. I don’t want to hear any more talk about something bad happening to you.”
Slade helped Sarah up into the passenger’s seat next to Miss Bonnie.
“This isn’t goodbye, Rain,” Sarah said. “It’s just, ‘see you later.’
“Right,” Slade replied. “See you later.”
“Later,” Sarah said. “When all is well and we can have another wedding…bigger and better than ever.”
The groom paused. “Right.”
Slade walked around to the back of the wagon where Miles was sitting. It was a delivery wagon so there weren’t any seats in the back, but the boy made do on the floor.
Miles passed Slade the ammo bag and the two Winchesters. Slade took one then handed the other back to the kid.
“You know how to shoot?” Slade asked.
“Pa taught me,” Miles replied.
“It’s yours,” Slade said. “Every cowboy needs a Winchester.”
“Wow,” Miles said. “Thanks.”
Gunther walked over to say his goodbyes. “You’re the toughest kid I’ve ever seen, Miles.”
“I am?” Miles asked.
“Well, I don’t know any other dog monster kids so…”
Miles started to correct the old man. “Were…ah, you know what? Screw it.”
“Protect the womenfolk,” Slade said.
“You got it,” Miles said.
Slade closed the back doors and slapped the back of the wagon.
“Miss Lassiter…”
The driver turned and looked at Slade. They both caught each others’ eyes and there was no need to say anything. They knew how they felt about each other. Miss Bonnie cleared her throat. “Mr. Slade?”
“Roll out.”
Miss Bonnie snapped the reigns and Chance trotted away, pulling the wagon behind him.
A commotion broke out outside. Snarling werewolves. Growling zombies. War whups and battle cries.
Gunther and Slade rushed to the window just in time to see Blythe fall down with an arrow stuck in his chest.
“Holy shit,” the old timer said.
“He came,” Slade added.
Most improperly, Annabelle wiped the bunny blood off her face and onto her dress, then took Doc’s hand as he helped her up onto the back of a black horse.
“Meet Hercules, my dear,” Doc said as he climbed up into the saddle. “He’s been with me for quite some time, a very reliable beast.”
Annabelle patted her hand across Hercule’s coat. “Nice horsey.”
“Gentlemen,” Doc said, grabbing just enough of Slade and Gunther’s attention to get them to look away from the window. “It’s been a pleasure.”
Slade grunted, recalling in his mind a time his mother had told him the old line about how if a man can’t think of something nice to say then he shouldn’t say anything at all.
“Yeah ok then,” Gunther said. “Thanks for stopping by and starting a zombie apocalypse ya’ horse’s ass.”
Annabelle wrapped her arms around Doc’s waist.
“Hold on my dear,” Doc said. “And we shall be addressing the Queen of England on the curative properties of cocaine before you know it.”
“Oh gosh, the Queen?” Annabelle asked. “I don’t even have a dress fancy enough for that meeting.”
“You will my dear,” Doc said. “As many as you wish.”
The physician snapped the reigns on Hercules and away they went out the back of the livery.
Slade and Gunther looked out the window again just in time to see Blythe stand up.
“Shit,” Gunther said.
Slade handed Gunther the Winchester. “You’re better with it than I am.”
Gunther racked up a bullet and took one side of the front door. Slade withdrew his twin pistols and took the other.
“On three then?” the old man asked.
Slade nodded. Gunther started counting. “One..two…”
Slade interrupted the count. “In case I don’t get to say it later, its been nice knowing you, Deputy.”
The old man nodded. “Well holy shit. A compliment from Rainier Slade.”
“Don’t ruin it,” Slade replied.
“Right,” Gunther said. “And likewise, Marshal.”
The two men took a deep breath and then Gunther shouted, “Three!”
Game of Thrones Recap – Season 6, Episode 2 – “Home”
Hey 3.5 Readers.
BQB here.
What an episode, right?
OK before we get started…THIS POST IS DARK AND FULL OF SPOILERS!
He’s alive! He’s alive!
Jon Snow’s back and my prediction failed. Melisandre did not use her magic vagina.
She just used her magic instead.
And it had nothing to do with the magic necklace.
Lots of great writing and acting in this episode.
You know a show is great when it can a) make you feel bad for Roose Bolton and b) make you feel bad for Melisandre.
By the way, didn’t that Iron Born Uncle out of left field look a lot like Theon?
Methinks there was some hanky panky between him and his sister-in-law.
Anyway. Game of Thrones still has got it going on after six years.
By the way, am I the only one who thought Jon Snow was going to come back in the dire wolf’s body for a second?
They kept focusing on the wolf looking around. I thought that was where they were going for a bit.
Oh well. Fake out.
Let me know what you think, 3.5 readers. Looking forward to next week already.
How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 91
Flames danced all across the right side of Blythe’s body, from his torso to his face. Still, he needed to maintain focus. The arrow was less than an inch from his heart so the slightest mistake would leave him a pile of dust.
Lying flat on his back on the ground, he gripped the arrow tightly and pulled it slowly until it was out, the stone tip covered with his putrid black blood.
He rolled about and slapped the fire that had engulfed him out. His coat was ruined, the fabric singed beyond repair. The bubbling blisters on his face, on the other hand, disappeared quickly. The vampire was back to his handsome self again.
Blythe rose up and looked to the roof of the livery. There was Standing Eagle, drawing another arrow out of his quiver and preparing to take aim with his bow.
To his left and right were Crafty Fox and Screeching Owl, each with bows drawn. Fox sent an arrow sailing through the air until it entered the eye of a zombified Buchanan Boy, piercing its brain and dropping its carcass to the ground.
The vampire was packing a shiny nickel plated revolver. In a rare display of panic, he shot indiscriminately at the rooftop, waving his free hand to signal his zombie firing squad to join in.
Undeterred by the heavy fire coming at them, the trio jumped from the rooftop. Standing Eagle withdrew a tomahawk and swung it furiously, decapitating zombies left and right. He locked into a formation with Fox and Owl and together, they watch each others’ backs, slicing up all zombies that came their way.
Werewolves Taylor and Browning made a run at the intruders. Meanwhile, Wandering Snake and Charging Bobcat had other plans in store for Werewolf Miller.
Atop Townsend’s shop, Snake rapidly twirled a bola over his head. He let it loose and Miller’s paws became tangled in a web of rope and wooden balls, causing him to trip and face plant into the ground.
That gave Bobcat the chance to do what he did best – attack his prey. He jumped from the roof top, landed on Miller’s back and used his long knife to hack away at the beast’s back, only to be shocked as the wounds instantly healed.
Snake’s feet hit the ground. Calmly, he stuck his knife in the forehead of an attacking zombie, then used his staff fend off the undead as they circled him.
“Eagle!” Bobcat shouted as he stabbed away at Miller to no avail. “The dog monsters cannot be hurt!”
Eagle was preoccupied as he laid on the ground, holding open Browning’s jaws with his bare hands, desperately holding them back from chomping down on his face.
“I’ve noticed!” Eagle replied
How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 90
Doc’s body was riddled with bullet holes yet it didn’t seem to faze him in the slightest.
“You look like hell,” Gunther said.
“Perhaps but I feel better than ever I assure you,” Doc replied.
Annabelle counted the holes. One in Doc’s shoulder. Five more in his chest and stomach. Six all together.
“Those don’t hurt at all?” she asked.
“They sting a bit,” Doc replied. “More of a cosmetic problem than anything else. I dare say I won’t be going shirtless on the beach when we get to France my dear.”
Gunther peeked out the window. “Shit. Dog monsters coming around back.”
“Werewolves,” Miles said. He began wondering if he should just give up and stop correcting everyone.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Doc said. “I am presently conceiving a bold plan. The odds of it working are a hundred to one but it is the only option that presents itself in my mind. Time is of the essence and I need everyone to do as I say without question and follow my lead to the letter..”
“I’m not taking orders from a damn zombie,” Miss Bonnie said.
At the back of the livery, there was a set of two double doors. Gentry’s fist pounded on them.
“What do you think?” Slade asked Gunther.
Gunther stared at Doc’s blank eyes. They revealed no emotion. “I don’t why but I trust him.”
“I can’t believe this,” Miss Bonnie said to Slade. “You trust this jackass?”
“No,” Slade replied. “But I trust Gunther’s gut. It hasn’t steered us wrong yet.”
Mark Twain on Zombies – Part 2
“God created war so that Americans would learn geography. The devil created zombies so that Western Americans would practice their calisthenics.”
And so, as the American West Continued to Be Zombed throughout the late 1800s, Samuel Langhorne Clemens, better known to readers by his pen name, Mark Twain, refused to be deterred from embracing his life long love affair with the written word.
Hidden away in his residence with the doors and windows boarded up and a carving knife at the ready to make quick work of any intruders, be they zombie or ill-mannered human, Mr. Twain persisted in memorializing his thoughts on the zombie menace for future generations to enjoy:
- “Never allow someone to be your priority while allowing yourself to be their option. Of course, if this person turns out to be a zombie, make it a priority to blow its brains out.”
- “Books are for people who wish they were someone else. Alas, zombies have no use for them, for they are so miserably stupid.”
- “Reader, suppose you were an idiot. And suppose you were a member of Congress. Now imagine that you are a zombified Congressman. But I repeat myself thrice now.”
- “In a good book room, you feel in some mysterious way that you are absorbing the wisdom contained in all the books through your skin, without even opening them. Enjoy the feeling while it lasts, for no doubt a hideous zombie will jump out from betwixt the book stacks and scare the living daylights out of you.”
- “If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and man. As for zombies, they will bite the shit out of you whether or not you try to feed them cow brains as a substitute for human brains. Zombies are truly ungrateful pricks.”
- “I’ve lived through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened. My tales of zombie homicide, for example, are voraciously true.”
- “Education is the path from cocky ignorance to miserable uncertainty. Oh how I wish I had never been educated about zombies.”
- “A banker is a fellow who lends you his umbrella when the sun is shining, but wants it back the minute it begins to rain. Meanwhile, a zombie is a rotten fellow who wants to consume your brain.”
- “Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it. I doubt the zombie brains I have stomped upon have shed much in the way of forgiveness upon my boot heel.”
- “Of all the things I have lost, I miss my mind the most. I suspect a filthy zombie has devoured it.”
- “The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why. If there is ever a third, it will be the glorious day upon which we learn that all of the zombies have up and died.”
- “The human race has only two really effective weapons: laughter and shovels to aid us in the bashing of zombie brains.”
- “Never argue with stupid zombies. They will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.”
- “Eat a live frog first thing in the morning and nothing worse will happen to you the rest of the day…unless you run into a disgusting zombie.”
- “I thoroughly disapprove of duels. If a zombie should ever challenge me, I would take him kindly and forgivingly by the hand and lead him to a quiet place and kill him, most likely by punching him in the brain.”
- “I haven’t any right to criticize books, and I don’t do it except when I hate them. I often want to criticize Jane Austen, but her books madden me so that I can’t conceal my frenzy from the reader; and therefore I have to stop every time I begin. Every time I read Pride and Prejudice I want to dig her up and beat her over the skull with her own shin-bone and then shout, ‘Die again, zombie bitch!’”
EDITORIAL NOTE: Yeah, that last quote is all Twain except for the “Die again, zombie bitch!” part at the end. His original quote ended with “shin-bone.” The Twainster was not a fan of Jane Austen apparently.
Bookshelf Battle 