Daily Archives: November 3, 2016

POLL – Which Bookshelf Battle Blog Character Would You Like to See as President?

Official Poll.

Choose the BQB-a-verse character you’d like to see as America’s Chief Executive:

  • Bookshelf Q. Battler
  • Video Game Rack Fighter
  • Bookshelf Q. Battledog
  • Alien Jones
  • The Mighty Potentate (all hail the Mighty Potentate)
  • The Yeti
  • Vinny Baggadouchio, Host of Stop Sucking with Vinny Baggadouchio
  • Dr. Hugo Von Science
  • The Many Characters who Live on BQB’s Shelf
  • Uncle Hardass
  • Aunt Gertie
  • Nerdstradamus
  • Search Engine Optimized Poet
  • Professor Nannerpants

I’m sure I forgot someone but vote for your favorite in the comments.

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East Randomtown Mayor’s Race -Vote for Leo McKoy Because Bookshelf Q. Battler is an Epic Doucheface and His Dumb Blog Should Be Banned Because it Stinks

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Statesman. Barfly. Deliverer of Sandwiches to the Stars. Leo McKoy Needs Your Vote.

Bookshelf Q. Battler.

He thinks he’s a real great hero, what because he saved East Randomtown from a zombie apocalypse.

And sure, he has a WordPress blog with 3.5 readers.

Leo McKoy could pull rank and mention how he once delivered a sandwich to James Van Der Beek, the actor who played Dawson on Dawson’s Creek.

But Leo would rather talk about the issues.

FREE POTATO AND FIXINGS BAR

Leo McKoy has been saying it for years. “What? This town doesn’t have a free potato bar? When did I fall asleep and get transported to Communist Russia?”

That’s right. Because the Communist Russians do not have free potato bars because they hate freedom and also potatoes.

If Leo McKoy is elected, he will personally provide over a free potato bar in the town square every Monday or, if Monday is a holiday, then he will hold the potato bar on Tuesday because you shouldn’t expect him to give up his Monday holiday, you ingrates.

Bacon bits. Sour cream. Butter. Chives. Chili. Refried beans. Tabasco sauce. Ketchup. Mustard. Ninety-five different kinds of ice cream. Thousand island dressing. Ranch dressing. Honey mustard.

If you can put it on a potato, then your free town potato bar will have it.

East Randomtownians will never have to put shoes on their hands and gloves on their feet and walk around on their hands as if their hands were feet on Leo McKoy’s watch.

Leo McKoy was the only candidate to pledge that our dear townsfolk will never be subjugated to a law that requires them to wear shoes on their hands and use their hands as their feet and their feet as their hands.

That would be a ridiculous law and Leo McKoy does not care that such a method of walking is required by the town’s bylaws. McKoy will not rest until that bylaw is repealed and East Randomtownians are walking on their feet like honest, God fearing folk.

CATS WILL NOT BE ALLOWED TO READ YOUR MINDS

That’s right. If you believe your cat is trying to read your mind, report said feline to Mayor McKoy and your cat will spend the rest of his or her nine lives in cat prison.

Also, Mayor McKoy will expend most of the town’s treasury on the construction of a cat prison.

WE WILL CREATE AN ALL MILF POLICE FORCE

East Randomtown’s police force will be staffed by a bevy of forty year old babes who have given birth yet still managed to keep their shit hella tight and defy gravity.

If you are going to do some shit that’s going to get you arrested, you’ll feel a lot better if you’re hauled in by a MILF.

NO ONE WILL BE ALLOWED TO QUESTION IF MAYOR MCKOY IS A ROBOT

Bookshelf Q. Battler lied when he said he saw McKoy get eaten by zombies. McKoy is not a robot and he is so certain the townsfolk trust him that he will make it illegal to have politicians checked for metal balls.

MONEY WILL NOT BE WASTED ON RIDICULOUS THINGS

A McKoy administration will tighten the town’s belt by doing the following:

  • The East Randomtown Library will be shuttered and bulldozed. No one has stepped foot in it since it was discovered that books steal your souls.
  • All subjects at East Randomtown High School will be cancelled and replaced with one catch all class entitled, “Keeping it Real.” Taught by Mayor McKoy himself, students will learn that math is bullshit, science is a load of crap and no one needs to know what how to read the Englishes good as long as they know how to keep it real.
  • The town dump will be closed. Residents will be encouraged to sweep trash under their beds.  You can always get more trash under your bed so stop complaining.
  • Roads will not be repaved. Everyone is too fat and will be required to walk everywhere. Seriously, people. Look at yourselves. Even Mayor McKoy wouldn’t make a pass at you, that’s how fat you all are.

A STATUTE OF JAMES AND LEO

That’s right. A solid gold statute will be built to memorialize the glorious time when Leo McKoy delivered a sandwich to James Van Der Beek.

BAN THE BOOKSHELF BATTLE BLOG

You know with all the zombie attacks, and the yeti always going on a tear, and the space aliens always parking their ships on our front lawns and probing people in unflattering places, life sure isn’t easy in East Randomtown.

But has anyone noticed that life got worse around the same time Bookshelf Q. Battler started his stupid blog?

BQB’s blog is a magnet that pulls every last supernatural asshole in the universe to our humble town.

Thus, when Leo McKoy is elected, he will shut down BQB’s entire operation.  All the weirdo monsters that keep descending on our town will get lost and BQB’s 3.5 readers will never be entertained again.

CONCLUSION

A lot of people talk about delivering a sandwich to a 1990s teen heart throb but Leo McKoy was the only man with the guts to actually do it.

Did you do it? No? Then shut your suck hole and be a man and vote for Leo McKoy, because he’ll stop BQB and his dumb blog from destroying our lousy ass town.

PAID FOR BY THE COMMITTEE TO CONVINCE YOU THAT BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER IS A STUPID DOUCHEFACE WHOSE BLOG SHOULD BE SHUT DOWN SO VOTE FOR LEO MCKOY OR EVERYTHING BAD THAT HAPPENS IN THIS TOWN IS YOUR FAULT BECAUSE HE TRIED TO WARN YOU

 

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Remember the Zombamo – Chapter 10

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“What in the hell are you on about, Wright?”

Wright slid off a pair of black leather gloves as he stepped forward.

“It has been brought to my attention that you have disgraced yourself sir,” Wright said with an air of sophistication.

“Is that so?” Bowie asked.

“It is, sir,” Wright said as he pounded the floor with the end of his cane. “You have been spreading a most scandalous fabrication that has proven to be quite injurious to my character.”

“You’ll have to dumb it down for me, sheriff,” Bowie said. “I don’t speak fop.”

“Did you or did you not state a claim to a collaboration of ruffians that I stole the election?” Wright asked.

“I did,” Bowie replied.

Wright raised his cane in the air. “Aha! So you do not deny that you have slandered me, do you sir?”

“I do deny it,” Bowie said.

“Speak plainly, man,” Wright said. “How can you admit and deny the same offense?”

“I admit that I told a few of my drinking buddies that you stole the election,” Bowie said. “I deny that I slandered you because the truth is not slander.”

Wright gasped. “How dare you sir? You slander me again!”

“Well,” Bowie said. “If the shoe fits…”

The knifeman walked to the bar and ordered a whisky. Wright followed him.

“And now you turn your back on me!”

“What?” Bowie asked as he accepted a full shot glass from Brent. “I thought we were done.”

“Not by a long shot,” Wright said. “Until you publicly retract your villainous lie, this matter will not be put to rest.”

Bowie gulped his shot. “Wright, I personally witnessed those Blanchard boys you got in your back pocket stuffing those ballot boxes with more paper than Tavish’s sister shoves in her brassiere.”

Tavish shook his head up and down, then burped. “It’s true. Old Maude is flatter than a carving board.”

“Look, Wright,” Bowie said. “Everyone knows that the political game is like a hyena’s dick. They’re both crooked and they’re both ugly. I didn’t tell anyone anything they didn’t already know so untwist your knickers, quit your bellyaching, and get out of my face.”

Bowie turned his back on Wright once more, but Wright refused to be ignored. He tapped on Bowie’s shoulder.

The knifeman turned only to be slapped in the face by a pair of gloves.

“I challenge you to a duel, sir!”

Bowie was quiet. Everyone in the bar was quiet.

When Bowie laughed, everyone took it as a cue to join in.

“I never figured you for a comedian, Wright,” Bowie said as he pointed a finger at the sheriff. “That’s a good one.”

Wap! Wright slapped Bowie in the face with his gloves a second time and in so doing, knocked the smile right off of Bowie’s face.

“That’s a good way to get yourself gutted from stem to stern, Wright,” Bowie said.

“Satisfaction will be mine!” Wright shouted.

“You’d be so easy to kill it wouldn’t be a fair fight,” Bowie said.

“And you are making excuses for your cowardice, sir!”

Bowie’s nostrils flared. He took a deep breath, then turned his back on Wright again.

“Well then,” Wright said as he drew his pistol. “If you are not man enough to face me then you leave me no choice.”

Bang!

Wright was known throughout Rapides Parish for being a horrendous shot. The bullet grazed Bowie’s shoulder, cutting a slight rut through the skin of the knifeman’s arm before it landed dead center in Tavish’s chest.

The drunk shouted several choice obscene phrases before falling off his stool. On the floor, he convulsed, then died.

Bowie wasted no time. He grabbed Wright’s arm and shoved him up against a wall. Wright closed his eyes as he felt the cold edge of a knife being held up against his throat.

“You think that does a damn thing for your honor?” Bowie asked. “You try to shoot a man in the back only to murder a useless old lecher instead?”

“This is all your doing, Bowie!” Wright said. “You are the one who refused to face me. That man’s death is on your hands!”

“Shit,” Bowie said. “And I was just starting to like that old coot.”

Brent interrupted. “You just held a knife on him a moment ago.”

“He was starting to grow on me,” Bowie said.

Bang!

Bowie looked to his left. Brent had walked over from the bar and was holding a rifle.

“Jim,” Brent said. “I don’t mean to tell you how to do your business but one dead body in my bar is too many.”

Bowie and Wright stared into each others’ eyes. Wright saw Bowie’s rage. Bowie saw Wright’s fear.

“And I’m no lawyer but you slitting the throat of a lawman who just fired the only shot in his pistol seems like it will end with you swinging at the end of a noose if you ask me.”

“No one asked you, Brent.”

Bowie leered at his hostage a bit longer, then released him.

“Wright, I accept your challenge.”

Wright coughed and clutched at his throat just to make sure it was still there. He then straightened up, dusted himself off, gripped the lapels of his jacket and turned up his nose at the knifeman.

“Pistols at dawn, sir.” Wright said. “Acquire your second and we shall meet at the sandbar.”

“Yes we will,” Bowie said.

Wright stormed off for the door.

“And Wright?”

The sheriff stopped but didn’t turn around.

“Do not miss,” Bowie said. “Because if you do, I assure you, my knife will not.”

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