Daily Archives: April 9, 2017

Zom Fu – Chapter 60


Two jagged, golden swords adorned the walls of the Emperor’s throne room.  Dragonhand and Junjie had each managed to get there hands on one and sparks were flying as metal clanged on metal.

“Why does the name ‘Longwei’ offend you so?” the Infallible Master asked.

Dragonhand swiped his sword just over Junjie’s head.  “There is no Longwei!  There is only Dragonhand!”

“I see,” the master said.  “And it agonizes you to be called Longwei?”

Dragonhand stepped back, barely missing a strike from Junjie.  “How many times must I tell you, you dense, obtuse old idiot?  There is no Longwei!  There is only Dragonhand!”

Clang, clang, clang!  The swordplay continued.

“Then why is it that it offends you when I tell you that you were not my best student?”  the master asked.

Junjie sailed through the air at his opponent, his foot straight out in a kick position.  Dragonhand caught his adversary’s foot, twisted it, then flipped him to the ground.  Junjie stood right up, sword at the ready.

“Because I was your best student!”  Dragonhand shouted.  “I was the pride of the Clan of the Sacred Yet Inscrutable Tiger Claw!  I fought harder and better than everyone combined and yet you held me back at every turn.”

The master chuckled.  “You mean I held Longwei back at every turn.”

Dragonhand turned his attention to the master.  It was a fool movie, as Junjie was able to land an uppercut against the zombified warrior’s jaw.  Dragonhand retaliated with a brutal kick that knocked Junjie into a nearby wall.

“What?”  Dragonhand asked.

“I never trained a creature named Dragonhand,” the master said.  “I trained a young man named Longwei.  He was bright and bold.  Skilled and knowledgeable to be certain, but more concerned with glory and applause than working with his clan as one part of a larger whole.”

Dragonhand appeared confused.  He pointed at the master.  “Enough of your tricks!”

Junjie pulled himself out of the rut his body had formed when he slammed into the wall. He ran at Dragonhand and the swords connected again.

“You are wrong that there is no Longwei,” the master said.  “Longwei’s soul suffers torment in Diyu, the same torment we all will be forced to suffer when our time comes and we cross over.  One day, sooner or later, the Yama Kings will judge that Longwei’s sins have been sufficiently punished and atoned for, and he will be free to live in Heaven for eternity.”

Clang, clang, clang!  Junjie and Dragonhand locked eyes and stared at one another as they pressed hard against one another’s swords.  They hoped in vain to budge the other, but neither fighter would be moved.

“Silence!” Dragonhand cried.

“You, on the other hand, are merely a creature of flesh and bone,” the master said.  “There is no soul in you.  There is nothing of import in you.   Your mind operates based on a brain that doesn’t belong to you.  You share Longwei’s thoughts.  Clearly, you sometimes get confused and think you are him, but you aren’t.  You are just a pile of sentient meat and when you are gone, there will be nothing left of you.”

Dragonhand dropped his sword.  Junjie assumed this was the perfect moment to attack.  He raised his blade and was about to bring it down on his opponent’s head when Dragonhand bashed his skull into Junjie’s, dropping the hero with a vicious head butt.

“I don’t recall that move ever being recorded in the annals of kung fu,” the master said.

“I do what it takes to win,” Dragonhand said.

“A trait you share with the former inhabitant of that body I’m afraid,” the master said.  “But no, no.  No need to remind me.  You’re not Longwei.  You are the mighty Dragonhand.”

Dragonhand’s face was bloody.  His nose was broken.  He picked up his sword and ran towards the old man.  He rammed his sword into the apparition, slicing and dicing through the ghost but it was no use.  He was, in essence, chopping up thin air.

“Does this make you feel better?” the master asked.

Dragonhand was enraged.  “Raaaaaarrrgh!”

The fiend spotted Junjie.  The hero was kneeling on the floor, with his face down, blood trickling out of it.  Dragonhand went to the Dragon Throne and picked up the Staff of Ages.

“It’s time to finish this.”

Dragonhand walked toward Junjie.  He raised the staff over his head.  Lighting cracked through the ceiling and into the staff.  Thunder clapped.

“You will watch your student die now, old man!”

“It will be a pity to lose my best student,” the master said nonchalantly.

Another bolt of lightning struck the staff.  More thunder.

“I was your best student,” Dragonhand said.

“Again,” the master said.  “Longwei was my student.  I don’t know you, strange creature.”

Dragonhand pointed the staff at the ghost.  The ruby glowed bright purple.  “Not another word.”

The master nodded.  “As you wish, stranger.”

But the master wasn’t done talking.  As far as Dragonhand knew, the old man was silent.  However, his words flowed through Junjie’s mind.  “I doubt your parents spent long in Diyu.  They are in Heaven now, looking down upon you.  Will you make them proud?”

Junjie’s head remained down.  In the turmoil, he’d dropped his sword.  It rested on the ground, several feet away.  His right hand trembled.

A third bolt of lightning hit the staff.  Thunder clapped again.  Dragonhand turned the staff at Junjie.  With all his might, Junjie struggled to turn his right hand into a tiger claw.

“Now you will know the power of zom fu!”  Dragonhand shouted.  “Now all of China will cower before…”

Before Dragonhand could say his own name, Junjie crammed his tiger claw into the creature’s skull and pulled out a goopy, gloppy, still-pulsating brain.

Like a chicken with its head cut off, Dragonhand’s body stumbled.  His feet took him a few steps forward, then a few steps backward.  The entire top half of his head was gone.  Only the part from his mouth on down remained.

“All,” Dragonhand said with a strained voice.  “All of China will…will…they will all cower before…”

The fiend’s body hit the floor.  His mouth had one last word to say.  “…Dragonhand.”

Junjie looked at the brain in his hand.  It glistened and glowed in the moonlight that poured in through the thunderbolt made holes in the ceiling.

The Infallible Master stepped over to his protege.  “I never doubted you.”

“You didn’t?”  Junjie asked.

The master shook his head.  “Perhaps there was a modicum of doubt.  A slight, insignificant amount of doubt.  Overall, I was fairly certain that this ordeal would end with Dragonhand’s carcass on the floor and his brain in your hand.”

“You were only fairly certain?”  Junjie asked.

“Let’s not ruin the moment, my son,” the master replied.

Junjie stared at the gray matter in his hand.  “Every brain I have ever seen has repulsed me.  They normally make me sick to my stomach but this one…this one…”

“Intrigues you?”  the master asked.

“Yes,”  Junjie said.  “I crave it.  I’m hungry for it.  It’s all I can do to keep myself from biting it.”

The master nodded.  “Perhaps it different from other brains.”

“How so?”  Junjie asked.

“Perhaps it contains knowledge that you have yearned for your entire life,” the master said.

Junjie licked his lips, then looked away from the brain.  “No.  I could never.  I don’t want to end up like him.”

“You will never end up like Dragonhand,”  the master said.  “You are too pure of heart to become a brain addict.  Of that, I am certain.”

“You keep saying that brain eating will never turn me into one of the undead,” Junjie said.  “But honestly, how certain of that are you really?”

The master shook his head.  “Fairly certain.”

Junjie rolled his eyes.

“I’ve been alive for a thousand years, my son,” the master said.  “Trust me.  ‘Fairly certain’ is the best anyone ever gets.”

Junjie continued to stare at the brain.

“Make a choice,” the master said.  “Bite it or destroy it, but either way, let’s get on with it.”

“Well,” Junjie said as he brought the brain up to his lips.  “Here goes nothing.”

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 9


Sitwell, Florida

11:00 p.m.

Chief Cole Walker sat behind the wheel of his broken down, bucket of bolts cruiser, stationed in a well-known yet effective speed trap behind a billboard off of Route 199.  Up on the billboard, there was an image of a grimy looking slime ball with a white cowboy hat and matching white suit.  He was surrounded by cars and held up two fist filled with cash.

The message on the sign?  “Beaumont Dufresne’s Used Car Emporium – Prices so low he’s practically handing you cash!”

Seated in the passenger seat was Walker’s trusty right hand man, Russell “Rusty” Yates. Both men were roughly the same age.  Cole looked like he might have been a handsome ladies’ man in his youth but time had since had its way with him.  While his body remained in good shape, his face was weathered.  His black hair had patches of gray around the temples.  In short, he always looked like he needed a nap.

Rusty, on the other hand, had a boyish face, so much so that he had the appearance of a giant kid.  He had two bucky front teeth.  They didn’t protrude so much out of his mouth that he was able to open up a beer bottle with his choppers, but they did poke out ever so slightly, even when his lips were closed.  His hair was red.  Shockingly, blindingly red.  His locks had withstood the test of time, as a single gray hair had yet to infect his scalp.

The duo had been working together for two decades and in that time, they had their rituals.  Well, Rusty had his rituals.  Cole usually just grunted and nodded.  Occasionally he’d offer a thoughtful response if he was in a good mood, which wasn’t often.

Reading the newspaper out loud was one of Rusty’s rituals.  “President Stugotz Mulls Whether or Not to Send U.S. Troops into “NoOneCanPronounceThisCountry’sShittyName-istan.”

Rusty took a sip of his coffee.  “Good golly, it’s about time, don’t you think, Cole?”

Cole sat and blankly stared at the highway.  He offered no response.

“I say, Cole, what do you think?”

“Huh?”  Cole asked.

“Stugotz might be sending the Army into NoOneCanPronounceThisCountry’sShittyName-istan,”  Rusty said.  “It’s a good idea, don’t you think?”

Cole rolled his eyes and emitted a thirty second long sigh, the kind that Rusty had grown used to over the years.  It was clearly meant as a warning that Cole was angry that he was had already expelled the minimum mental energy required to recognize Rusty’s existence and now he was downright irate that he was being pressed to engage in an actual conversation.

“I don’t know,” Cole said.

“All these people dying,” Rusty said.  “Getting machetes up their taints and rocket propelled grenades up their butts.  It’s all a crime against humanity if you ask me.”

A few moments passed before Cole finally offered.  “Did anyone ask you?”

“No,”  Rusty said.  “But innocent people are dying and America can’t proclaim itself as a beacon for justice if we all sit back and do nothing.”

Cole popped a cigarette into his mouth and let it dangle from his lips as he mustered up a response.  “Who says we have to do anything?”

Rusty shrugged his shoulders.  “I don’t know.  Nobody.”

“Then why get involved?”  Cole asked.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,”  Rusty replied.

“And who says that?” Cole asked.

“I don’t know,” Rusty said.  “President Stugotz.  Senators and Congressmen.”

Cole flicked his cigarette light, lit up, and puffed away.  Within seconds, the car was filled with a smokey stench.

“Right,” Cole said.  “All the people who aren’t going to pick up a gun and travel thousands of miles to some place they’ve never been to before, a place they know nothing about, just to shoot at people who want to shove a machete up their taints or an RPG up their asses.”

Rusty coughed dramatically and waved the smoke away from his face with his hand.  “Will you put that out?”

“Oh, shut up, Russ,” Cole said.  “Don’t give me your sanctimonious health kick bullshit.  That coffee you’re sucking down is just as bad for as you as this cigarette is for me.”

“Yeah,” Rusty said.  “But at least I’m not forcing you down and pouring my coffee down your gullet, whereas you’re making me smoke that thing with you every time you blow your second hand smoke around my airspace.”

Cole shook his head and rolled his window down.  He took another puff, then blew his smoke out the window.  He then held his hand outside, leaving the cigarette to chug smoke into the night air.

“There,” Cole said.  “That better, you crybaby?”

“Much,” Rusty said.  “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Cole replied in a sarcastic tone, denoting that he felt Rusty’s request was, in fact, very much a problem.

“It’s just about being considerate is all,” Rusty said.

“I’m not considerate?”  Cole asked.

Rusty had seen Cole’s temper flare up before and didn’t want to cause it to do again.  He chose his words carefully.  “You seem to be lost in your head most of the time.  I’m sure you don’t do it on purpose.”

“Whatever,” Cole said.

“You got to care about other people, Cole,” Rusty said.  “Whether it’s your partner in a police cruiser or innocent civilians on the other side of the world getting machetes in their taints and RPGs up their butts.”

Cole looked at Rusty incredulously.  “Maybe I do care about people.  Maybe I’m just caring about the people that you aren’t caring about.  Did that possibility ever make its way into your soul-less ginger skull?”

Rusty turned the page of his paper.  “You know, if you’re going to start name calling, let’s just forget it.”

“No,” Cole said.  “You started it, so let’s finish it.  Maybe I do care about those innocent people who are getting taints and RPGs up their butts.  But maybe I also care some dipshit kid from Podunk, Kentucky who signed up for the Army because he couldn’t find a job anywhere and he’s going to shipped off to some hellhole to fight for people who will resent the shit out of him for being there.  If he doesn’t get his taint hacked with a machete or his ass blown up by an RPG within the first three days of his tour of duty, then he’ll have to come to grips with the fact that his mission there is destined to fail for, as we all know, all the limelight sucking politicians will blow each other with compliments and praise for as long as the war is going well, but they’ll finger point and play the blame game the second shit goes south.  The war will always go south, because that’s what happens in war, and when that kid needs a new flak jacket, or a new gun, or God forbid, more soldiers to back him up, the same assholes who sent him there in the first place will deny him all the assistance he needs to win in a desperate effort to save their political careers as well as their ability to suckle off of the government teet for the rest of their lives, so don’t give me that shit about me not caring about all the innocent civilians in NoOneCanPronounceThisShittyCountry’sName-istan.  That’s a shitty place.  It’s always been a shitty place.  It will always be a shitty place.  There’s never been a time when people haven’t been dying there and there will never be a time when people won’t be dying there.  Sending Americans to die there will not solve the problem one iota.”

Rusty studied his newspaper.  “Sorry Cole, I’ve already moved on to the funny pages.  Oh Garfield, I’m with you about Mondays.  They sure do suck.  Preach on, my furry orange brother.”

“Yeah,” Cole said as he stuck his head out the window to puff on his cigarette.  “The moral of the story, whether its war or a heated political discussion, is don’t start it if you don’t want to finish it.”

The minutes passed.  Cole smoked.  Rusty read and drank his coffee.

Zoom!  A cherry red Ferrari blasted down the highway at warp speed, veering back and forth over the center line.  Cole squinted just in time to spot a tell-tale white cowboy hat poking up over the driver’s seat.

“Son of a bitch,” Cole said as he flicked his butt out the window and pulled out into traffic.  He turned on his lights and siren and began a pursuit.

“You think its smart to start something with our illustrious mayor, Cole?” Rusty asked.

“Why not?” Cole asked.

Rusty flashed his partner a wry grin.  “Because you and I know both know you won’t finish it.


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Toilet Gator – Part 1 – The Crimes


Throughout Florida, people are dying…on the can.  They drop their pants, do their dirty business and end up splattered all over the walls.

A pop star, an old man and a perpetual college student are the three victims thus far.

Plucky Network News One affiliate reporter Natalie Brock and her bumbling cameraman Walt are the first on the scene when Countess Cucamonga’s life is cut tragically short.  Alas, Natalie’s looks are average and Network News One prefers hot ass blonde chicks with big titties to report the news.  In fact, that’s their motto.

Will Natalie overcome her cameraman’s incompetence and the network’s sexism in order to follow this story to a conclusion?  Or will a Hot Ass Blonde Chick with Big Titties take over?

From the Desk of Bookshelf Q. Battler

Network News One Transcript #1

Chapter 1          Chapter 2          Chapter 3

Chapter 4         Chapter 5          Chapter 6

Network News One Transcript #2

Chapter 7          Chapter 8

Eight Weeks of Toilet Gator Sundays

Destined to become an Academy Award winning picture:


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Movie Review – The Smurfs: The Lost Village

La la la la la la…it’s a big ole stinkfest.

BQB here with a review of The Smurfs:  The Lost Village.

3.5 readers, perhaps you might recall in the past decade that Neil Patrick Harris teamed up with the Smurfs to make two films in which the little blue people crossed over into the human world.  They were silly and fun though the scenes of the beautiful Smurf village left me wondering why the studio didn’t just forgo NPH all together and just make an adventure where the Smurfs strike out on their own sans humans.

I still believe there’s a story out there about the Smurfs in Smurf world that could dazzle an audience on the big screen.  While this film is OK…this isn’t it.

When Gargamel (Rainn Wilson) and a group of Smurfs comprised of Smurfette (Demi Lovato), Brainy (Danny Pudi), Hefty (Joe Manganiello), and Clumsy (Jack McBryer) learn of the existence of a lost Smurf village, it’s a race to see who can locate the never before seen Smurfs first.  The Smurfs want to save their comrades in blue whereas Gargamel, as usual, wants to harvest them to enhance his magic.

I was too harsh up above where I said it is a stinkfest.  It isn’t.  It’s a perfectly lovely film to sit your kids down in front of.  Perhaps selfishly, I noticed that it lacks what a lot of the great cartoons have, namely jokes that reach out to the adults in the room while going over the kids’ heads, just to say, “Hey, we know you had to bring a kid to this, so we’re going to give you a little reward to thank you for coming so you won’t be bored out of your mind.”

Mandy Patinkin voices Gargamel and while he’s a suitable famous old person for the role, as a fan of Homeland, I just expected jazz music to start playing ominously in the background while Smurfette morphs into Carrie and starts mixing wine with pills and crying over Brodie while Papa Smurf Saul starts yelling at her to snap out of it and focus on finding the terrorists for the good of her country.

Meanwhile, there’s a feminist subplot for Smurfette.  All of the boy Smurfs have a name that matches who they are or what they are good at.  Baker Smurf, Vanity Smurf, Farmer Smurf and so on.  Smurfette’s name just means “girl smurf” and she thinks that’s unfair.  She wants to find out what she’s good at and get a name that reflects it because she’s more than just a female smurf.

SPOILER ALERT: the film addresses that eventually, but you know, not to the point where Smurfette gets a name change to reflect that she’s more than just a girl smurf.  You know some Hollywood suit ran into that writer’s room and was all like, “We are NOT changing the name of a character/kids’ toy that’s been marketed as Smurfette for umpteen million years, jerk wads, so deal with it!”

And to me, that’s fine.  I’m glad Smurfette finds here groove, but I’d be sad at this point if they changed her name.

DOUBLE SPOILER ALERT:  As you know if you’re a fan, Smurfette was made when Gargamel molded a lump of clay into the form of a Smurf.  She was supposed to be his spy, but she became good and loved her smurfy friends.  At the end, and again, look away if you don’t want to know the end, Smurfette gets turned back into that lump of clay.  The incredibly sad smurfs haul this clay lump that looks like a big blue turd back to Smurf Village and cry and bawl all over it until it becomes Smurfette again.  I just wish someone in the studio had the guts to raise their hand and say, “We need to rewrite this.  This lump of clay looks like a big blue poop.”

STATUS:  Shelf-worthy.  A good kids’ film.  However, I do believe that the Smurfs franchise has the power to create a movie that becomes an instant classic that stands the test of time, beloved by generations to come.  This film isn’t it and while adorable, funny, and even action packed at times, it’s quickly forgettable.  Kids will love it and I suppose that is the point in the end.

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Top Ten Warning Signs Your Butt Might Have Been Probed By Aliens


Someone’s going to be walking funny tomorrow.

Ahh, aliens.  Those intergalactic science perverts really do a number on the human heiney don’t they?

What exactly are little green men hoping to discover by shoving their high tech, state of the art devices up human butts?  Your guess is as good as mine.  At any rate, it’s not like these space weirdoes will leave you a calling card, so if you want to know whether or not your cheeks have been parted in the name of space science, you better consult this fine list.

From BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Warning Signs You Might Have Been Probed By Aliens

#10 – Your Butt Hurts

In theory, this could be due to a number of reasons, including by not limited to:

  • You’re wiping too hard and giving yourself hemorrhoids.
  • You ate an extra large batch of nacho chili cheese fries with extra hot sauce.  That’ll make the old tooter play a symphony for weeks, so get used to the discomfort.
  • You sat on a sharp object.
  • Brazilian wax.
  • Anal bleaching.
  • Someone kicked it.
  • A hobo had his way with you while you were sleeping.  That’ll teach you to fall asleep near a set of train tracks without a chastity belt.

However, if you’ve engaged in none of these activities then yes, it is highly possible that an alien shoved a carefully calibrated human nervous system mapping projectile up your poop chute.  I loathe being the one to have to break this unsettling news to you.

#2 – You’re a Drunken Redneck

According to the Fake Institute for Bogus Statistics, Southerners have a 97% higher chance of being butt probed by aliens than the rest of the population.  Add too much alcohol into the equation and you’re destined for an intergalactic butt inspection.

Why?  Call it discrimination.  Call it bias.  Call it what you will but whenever Jimmy Bob Bo Jim Jack gets on TV with his best trucker hat and “Honk if You Like Big Titties” shirt with the arms cut off and starts railing about the aliens that abducted him so they could have their way with his butt, people just start laughing and assume it’s the booze talking. Aliens know this and they take full advantage of it to avoid being caught.

Sure, the aliens could abduct and butt probe a boozy Manhattanite, but they’re all so uptight that their instruments usually just snap between their firmly clenched cheeks.

#3 –  You Remember Feeling as Thought Multiple People Were Touching You While You Were Asleep but Were Too Tired to Wake Up and Do Anything About It

Maybe you were abducted and butt probed by aliens.  Maybe you’re just the average, run of the mill college student.  The world may never know.

#4 – Your Butt is Pregnant

You didn’t even have sex.  Even more shocking…you’re a man!  Congratulations!  In nine months, you’ll be the proud father of the spawn that alien scientists inserted up your butt.

#5 – They Left the Probe in Your Butt

Look, not every alien scientist is the intergalactic equivalent of Steven Hawking.  Some are lazy.  Incompetent.  Inept.  Some have questionable credentials.  Some got their science diplomas through space mail.  Some have even been known to leave a probe sticking up the butt of a test subject, much like a meat thermometer stuck in the anal cavity of a Thanksgiving turkey.

At least the turkey gets warm, moist, herb seasoned stuffing shoved up there.  By the way, if you find any stuffing up your butt, then maybe you weren’t probed.  Maybe someone tried to eat you but changed his mind after deciding you don’t taste good.

#6 – Your Butt Hurts Twice in One Year

Maybe you didn’t learn your lesson about the nacho chili cheese fries with extra hot sauce earlier.  Maybe the aliens came back to get a second reading.  Again, the world may never know.

#7 – Your Farts Sound Like Electronic Codes

A sure sign that aliens probed you and left behind a microchip that allows your butt to communicate with the mother ship.

#8 – The Aliens Left Behind a Pamphlet

Some of the more considerate aliens have been known to leave behind a pamphlet on the nightstand of their test subjects.  It usually reads something like, “So You’ve Been Probed Up the Butt in the Name of Space Science.”  Topics include, “It Wasn’t Your Fault” and “Be Proud of the Many Scientific Breakthroughs that Will Occur Thanks to Your Butt Probe.”

#9 – Video Of the Inside of Your Butt Has Appeared on Cable

Not gonna lie.  Some aliens sell their probing videos to the highest bidder.  Somewhere amongst the thousands of cable channels out there, in depth footage of your Hershey Highway might being aired right now.  Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?

#10 – Your Butt Glows in the Dark

Some probes include a homing beacon that will flash, thus allowing the mother ship to spot your butt from space.  And you thought your butt was only visible from space because you got off your diet, didn’t you?


Equip your butt with a loud, obnoxious alarm.  Hire armed guards to protect your butt as you sleep.  Never lie down without putting on a pair of iron underpants secured with a sturdy padlock.  Break the key in four pieces and leave each piece in one of the world’s four hemispheres.  Really, people.  This is just common sense.  Protect your butt!

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