Yeesh.
What a load of crap.
Who wants Halloween on a Monday when you’re just getting the work week started?
As the Count would say, “Bleh.”
It has been a fun month here on the Bookshelf Battle Blog with Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire and Schecky Blargfeld, Zombie Comedian.
Hope you had a good time, 3.5 readers.
You’ll never get hypnotized by a vampire again with Count Krakovich’s anti-glamour tactics.
By: Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire
Bleh! Look into my eyes, 3.5 readers!
You are getting sleepy. Very sleepy. You want to do my bidding. You want to be my obedient slave.
You want to give me your Netflix password.
Seriously, give me your Netflix password. Vampires like House of Cards too.
Bleh! Why are you laughing? No wonder the Vampire League ousted me. I can’t even glamour the 3.5 devotees of a substandard book blog.
But rest assured, other vampires are better at the ancient art of vampire hypnosis, better known as “glamouring” and if you’re not careful, you will become a vampire’s puppet.
Here are some tips to avoid being glamoured.
#1 – BE UGLY
Look, let’s face it. If you’re a vampire with glamouring powers, you’re going to go after the hotties. I know. It’s politically incorrect. The bloodsucking damned should go after the less attractive as well…
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Bleh!
3.5 readers, don’t forget that last year, Count Krakovich talked about, you know, actual ways to defeat a vampire, and not just 31 lame ideas that he pulled out of his ass.
In this post from last year, he educated us on how to defeat a vampire with religion.
By: Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire
Bleh! Greetings 3.5 children of the night!
I’m back again to extract my revenge on the League of Vampires for forcing me out of their organization just because I made like thirty disastrous mistakes.
Vampires? Bunch of Douche-pires if you ask me.
So to get back at those losers I’m educating you, the 3.5 readers, on how to defeat vampires.
Today’s lesson? Religion.
Now, you’re all aware that a crucifix can stop a vampire in its tracks. A cross held to our skin long enough will burn us, but we usually just hiss loudly and run in the opposite direction whenever we see one, not giving the cross holder the chance to harm us in the first place.
That’s because we vampires are considered abominations in the eyes of God. Bodies are meant for the living and for the dead to be using one really pisses…
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In case you missed it, and you should be ashamed of yourself if you did, here are the Top Ten Witch Pickup Lines that BQB does not take responsibility for if you use them on a witch at your Halloween party tonight.
Witches.
Oh those sexy practitioners of the dark arts.
Halloween is just around the corner, so if you’re looking to score a hot date with a fine ass witch, you best school yourself on these witch pickup lines, player:
#10 – “Bubble bubble, toil and trouble, damn girl, you make my heart burn and my pants bubble.”
PRO: It’s classy and Shakespearean.
CON: She might think you’re saying that she gives you heart burn as in acid reflux and not as in her setting your heart ablaze with passion.
#9 – “Hey baby, wanna ride my broomstick?”
PRO: Direct and to the point.
CON: This is a rather uncouth line and thus will only work on the most promiscuous witches with low morals. Sure, they’ll rock your world but beware witch STDs. There’s no spell to get rid of that.
Not that I’d know.
No, I haven’t been scratching myself for…
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December 1829
The Palacio Nacional was an astounding piece of architecture. Though by the 1800s it featured balconies, columns, porticos and other European style features, there were parts of the structure that dated back to the Aztec King Montezuma II.
But at this particular moment of history, there was no time to appreciate a fine building. Rival factions had gathered outside and violence was underway.
“Guerrero is the rightful ruler of Mexico!” cried one of the president’s supporters. “Down with the traitors!”
“Fool!” shouted a supporter of the vice-president. “Bustamante will lead us into prosperity!”
Torches were brandished. Rocks and bricks were thrown. Heads were busted. Fists flew.
A shot was fired.
“Insolent rabble!” shouted Colonel Urrea as he stepped down from his horse. “Cease this disruption of the peace and make way for the general so that he may sort out this matter at once!”
The opposing sides were ready to tear each others’ throats out over their disagreements, but they were united in their respect for Santa Anna. As the general marched up the steps in his dress uniform, the crowd gazed upon him in sheer reverence.
The general, the colonel, and Isadora entered the palace in lockstep with a dozen soldiers trailing them.
“General,” the Colonel said. “These past few months in your service have certainly been an adjustment. Your foray into the, well, for lack of a better word, ‘the occult,’ has certainly taught me many dark secrets about our world.”
“Your loyalty is has always been your greatest virtue, Colonel,” Santa Anna replied.
“Yes,” the Colonel said. “And I must admit, it has taken me some time to get used to your new ‘advisor.’”
“Isadora’s advice has proven invaluable,” Santa Anna said.
“Right,” Colonel Urrea said. “But general, you are about to walk down a path from which you will never be able to come back from.”
The general placed his hand on a doorknob. “My dear friend, why would I ever want to come back from this?”
Santa Anna opened the door and entered the presidential library, a large room with walls lined with bookshelves holding ancient volumes and dusty old tomes.
On one side of an old oak conference table sat Vincente Guerrero, the tall, dark, brooding president. Two guards stood to his left. Two more stood to his right. All four men were loyal to the smug, smarmy looking vice-president Anastasio Bustamante, who was sitting across the table.
“You have signed your own death warrant, Bustamante,” Guerrero said. “I will enjoy seeing you swing from the end of a rope.”
“Oh come now, Vincente,” Bustamante said. “You’re in no position to make threats.”
Santa Anna’s troops spread out throughout the room.
“What is the meaning of this?” the general asked.
“Ahh,” Guerrero said with a grin. “Thank God! Santa Anna, this vile dog has dared to betray the will of the people.”
“Such drama,” Bustamante said.
“I won the election,” Guerrero said as he thumped his chest with his fist. “I chose you as Vice-President to make peace with your supporters and you reward me with a treacherous coup.”
“OK,” Bustamante said. “Yes, I’ll admit you make a good case that this isn’t very democratic but sometimes in a democracy the people must be prodded in the right direction and if they’re incapable of realizing that you’re little more than a common street charlatan…”
“Enough!” Santa Anna shouted.
The general looked to the guards. “You men. You are soldiers of the Mexican Army. I gave no order for an insurrection.”
The soldiers stayed quiet. Bustamante answered for them.
“Obviously I didn’t tell you that I was planning to overthrow this gorilla stuffed in a suit…
Upon hearing that remark, Guerrero attempted to stand up but was immediately shoved back down back the guards.
“…because you might have warned him. But now that the deed is done, Antonio, you’ll have to make a choice. Him or me.”
“Yes, mi amor,” Isadora said. “Who will it be?”
Santa Anna withdrew his pistol and aimed it at Guerrero. After a few seconds of hesitation, the general moved his weapon and pointed it at Bustamante.
“Oh, fuck it,” Santa Anna said as he held out his free hand. “Colonel, your sidearm.”
Urrea was perplexed but good solider that he was, he followed orders and placed his pistol in the general’s hand.
“Stop toying with us!” Guerrero hollered.
“Yes,” Bustamante said as he pounded his fist on the table. “Who will you side with?”
Santa Anna pulled both triggers. Holes opened in the heads of both men. Their bodies slumped forward in spent heaps.
“Neither of you,” Santa Anna said as he handed the pistol he borrowed back to the colonel.
The guards who had been loyal to Bustamante drew their swords. Santa Anna looked to his troops.
“Dispatch them.”
To the great horror of Bustamante’s men, the twelve soldiers that Santa Anna had brought with them flexed their muscles and burst out of their clothing. Fur sprang out of their bodies as they grew to well over seven feet tall. Snouts, long, sharp teeth, black noses, long claws.
The vice-president’s men were instantly ripped to shreds. One of the werewolves looked towards Santa Anna.
“Search the palace,” Santa Anna said. “Round up all who sided with the vice-president. Those unwilling to pledge their allegiance to me shall be executed.”
The werewolf nodded and he and his furry brethren were off.
“I must say, Isadora,” Santa Anna said. “Had your new werewolf recruits been in my service years ago, so many battles could have been won low these many years.”
“Yes,” Isadora said. “But do not forget they are only as loyal as your pockets are deep so never neglect to pay them and you’ll find they’re worth their weight in gold.”
The she-vamp caressed the cheek of a very frightened looking Colonel Urrea. “It’s the loyalty of this one that I worry about.”
“Is she right?” Santa Anna asked.
“No,” the Colonel said. “I serve Mexico and whoever happens to be in charge of it at the moment, in good times and in bad.”
Urrea looked around the room and grimaced at the multitude of dead bodies. “I just wish there was more good.”
Santa Anna rested his hand on the Colonel’s shoulder. “That’s good enough for me, General.”
“I’ve been promoted?” Urrea asked.
“We both have,” Santa Anna said.
The trio of Santa Anna, Isadora, and Urrea left the library and exited the palace. Outside, the rabble was just as rambunctious as ever, but they quieted down for Santa Anna.
“Good people of Mexico,” Santa Anna said. “After a thorough investigation, I determined that the president and the vice-president were a duo of filthy corrupt criminals whose misdeeds are far too voluminous too mention at this time. Therefore, I was left with no choice but to pass summary judgement upon them and execute them both on the spot so that they may never trespass against this great nation again.”
Hushed whispers could be heard throughout the crowd.
“As the nation’s chief military officer, I must, though it brings me no joy and is a terrible burden, assume the position of president,” Santa Anna said. “Further, in order to bring about order in the wake of this chaotic ordeal, I am left with no choice but to dissolve the Constitution of 1824 as well as all rights and privileges listed therein until such time as I determine that order has been restored.”
Urrea leaned into Isadora’s ear and whispered. “They’ll never go for it.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” Isadora whispered back.
“I realize this will result in a great deal of power being given to one and one man alone,” Santa Anna said. “But do not fear, my friends, for I have always served with honesty and dignity and will do so as your new president. From hereon, Santa Anna is Mexico and Mexico is Santa Anna!”
The rabble was silent and then…they cheered. Claps. Hoots. Hollers. Cheers. Chants of, “Santa Anna! Santa Anna! Santa Anna!”
“Dios mio,” Urrea said.
“Tell a confused mass that you’ll solve all their problems and punish the idiots who caused them and they’ll applaud you all day,” Isadora replied.
So I’ve thought….and I’ve thought…and I’ve thought.
How can I…
a) Create an ongoing plot that ties several books together
b) but neither book loses its distinct style and feel
c) and how can this all be made scalable so that I can put out one book in the series, then move onto something completely different, put that book out, then come back and put out another book in the series because I have a short attention span.
So here’s where I am.
I’m going to write a book about zombies attacking the Alamo. Yes, you heard that correctly.
Turns out that Davy Crockett, Jim Bowie, William Travis and Sam Houston were all bad ass warlocks who defended the Alamo from Vampire Santa Anna because there was a hell gate that Satan could pass through.
Our heroes save the day, but the Legion continues to cause chaos. The Legion will look for others to lead zombie armies, to descend the world into madness, to distract everyone whilst the hellgate is opened again.
Book 2 will be Undead Man’s Hand where Wild Bill, Calamity Jane and Charlie Utter give us the information on who all the board members of the Legion Corporation are.
To my great surprise, How the West Was Zombed will become Book 3. I struggled with this. It really seemed like a great Book 1, what with the West being zombed and all.
But even in that book there are some mentions of the Alamo and of Wild Bill, so instead of making these stories flashbacks, why not give them their own books.
If popular enough, I forsee future books where Wyatt Earp, Bat Masterson, Billy the Kid, Jesse James, and Butch and Sundance all take a turn fighting zombies.
If no one is sick of it yet after all that, Miles will get his own book as he helps Hoo Doo Brown sniff out what happened to Santa Anna’s leg.
If no one is exhausted by all this, then there will be a grand finale in the early 1900s in which Teddy Roosevelt becomes President.
Meanwhile, Slade’s brother Tobias becomes president of the newly formed Western States of America and after a life time of being downtrodden, Tobias succumbs to “the dark side” and leads the Western States down a dark path which will lead to the Alamo hell gate being opened once more.
Ultimately, a battle royale in which all the heroes in previous books still alive work together in the West while Teddy Roosevelt leads a charge in from the East.
You see, Bowie’s original Bowie knife was in fact, a magic knife used to kill Satan, who according to the bible, is able to come out of a portal in serpent form every once in awhile unless someone stops him, which sounds like an awesome, yet scary, plot line.
Bowie passes that knife to an unwitting young Gunther who carries it around with him until he’s old. He passes it off to Slade. Slade carries it till he is old. I believe an incantation also gets written on a piece of paper tucked into Bowie’s hat, which Gunther passes on to Miles, ergo Miles and Slade must reunite by the end.
I haven’t decided if Slade, Calamity Jane, Wyatt Earp et all will become warlocks like Crocket et all, the original people who stopped the hellgate.
So bottomline – it is a series that begins with four heroes who, amidst zombie created chaos, stop Satan from exiting a hellgate and then an ongoing saga where various Legion villains try to recreate that chaos and various heroes stop it.
The new heroes may or may not become warlocks as the series progresses. I suppose they have to if Crockett and friends were warlocks, but somehow Slade becoming a warlock seems like a jump the shark idea.
I’ll probably be like 75 by the time this is all written so, you know, at that point, who gives a shit if I make a million dollars if I’m too old and hideous to attract hot buxom blondes.
Anyway, that’s where I’m at, 3.5 readers. I’m going to finish Zomcation just because I think it will be an easy path to get a book out and then do a zombie western, do another book, do another zombie western, another book and so on until I either croak or become famous and wealthy.
So in other words, until I croak.
But at least you 3.5 readers will be very entertained.
By: Schecky Blargfeld, Zombie Comedian
WTF?
WTF indeed.
BQB, WTF can’t you get your writing career off the ground when W.J. Lundy finds the time to write AND fight for freedom?
Seriously, BQB. Get off your ass.
Check out BQB’s interview with W.J. Lundy here.
And don’t forget to check out W.J. Lundy’s Amazon author page.
Dear 3.5 readers,
We’ve had some good times, haven’t we?
There was that first year where I didn’t post that much because I was still learning what all the damn buttons do.
Not gonna lie. I’m still learning. It doesn’t help that WordPress changes shit around everyday. Hell, sometimes I’ll step away from the computer to drop a deuce and come back and shit has been changed.
No two visits are ever the same.
Then there was that second year where I concentrated on the blog, tossing up tons of material, doing my one post a day for a year challenge.
And finally, year three is the year where I finally finished the first rough draft of a novel. Now I just have the long journey to getting it published and out there.
Let’s take a moment to talk about you, my 3.5 readers.
Oh how I adore you, 3.5 readers. I really do.
Many authors have humongous egos where they desire millions of readers.
Meanwhile, I have decided that I will always keep blogging as long as at least 3.5 people keep showing up to look at this drivel.
1.5 readers? I give up. 2.5? No thanks. 3.5? OK. Cool. I’ll keep posting.
But can we talk about how you, my 3.5 readers, can help me, BQB?
You guys are cool. You’re great. But what I need you do to is to become MORE than 3.5 readers.
You need to multiply, 3.5 readers. You really do.
Have you tried to multiply yourselves yet, 3.5 readers?
Here are some ways that you can be more than 3.5 readers:
RANDOM PERSON: You know I’m really concerned about global warming, genocide, war, and the extinction of the East Pango Tangonian Tree Bird.
YOU: Cool. You know what I do when I’m worried? I read the Bookshelf Battle Blog.
OK. So out of those, I suppose the most reasonable requests are to ask you to follow me on Twitter on Facebook.
So go do that. And then, if you can find the time, the dinosaur thing.
Thank you, 3.5 readers.
By: Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire
Bleh!
Perhaps the best way to defeat a vampire is to build a time travel device, then travel back to before the time when a person was turned into a vampire, then stop that person from becoming a vampire.
But if you don’t have a time travel device handy, then you are screwed.
You really should stop being so lazy and get to work on building a time travel device.
Forget Philadelphia.
Step aside, Forrest Gump.
Go away, Castaway.
The David S. Pumpkins sketch (aka Haunted Elevator sketch) on Saturday Night Live is the best thing that Tom Hanks has ever done in his career.
I wonder if David S. Pumpkins is the long lost brother of Larry David’s Kevin “Can a bitch get a donut?” Roberts.
Bookshelf Battle 