Bookshelf Battles. They’re raging out of control. BQB apparently isn’t the only one with a shelf full of tiny folk run amuck.
@bookshelfbattle follower Liam Kozma (@LKozma) submitted this photo of a Civil War battle for control of his bookshelf:
Is there anything interesting happening on your bookshelf? Tweet the photographic evidence to @bookshelfbattle and you never know, it might end up here on this revered website for the viewing pleasure of 3.5 readers.
SPOILERS!
It was an episode of firsts:
By the way, anyone notice that Jon Snow killed a white walker without a piece of dragon glass?
Maybe because he carries the blood of the dragon?
WHAT?! MIND=BLOWN!
What say you, 3.5 readers?
FROM THE DESK OF BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER
World Renowned Poindexter, Reviewer of Books, Movies, and Cultural Happenings, Champion Yeti Fighter and Blogger-in-Chief of the Bookshelf Battle Blog
Dear 3.5 Readers,
Let’s face it.
I’m not a very important person.
Does that come as a shock? I’m sorry, but it’s true. (Oh, it didn’t come as a shock? Thanks, but play along anyway, OK?).
Out in the wide world, tragedy and terror loom large on the horizon, peaking their ugly faces out from every corner.
BQB’s soap box
Every day, people are being killed by hurricanes, blown away bytornados, zapped by lightning, swallowed whole by monsoons, kidnapped by pirates (the billowy shirt kind, not the Somali kind), burnt up in wildfires, or carried away by hideous hungry trolls.
And that’s just in the world outside. At home? Why, you could be moseying along, minding your own business and WAMMO! You spill your ice cold glass of Diet Shasta Orange, slip on the puddle, crack your knogan on the way down and it’s good night daisy.
Did you know the home is the number one place where an accident can happen? Why, you could drown in a bucket, get a paper cut while opening bills and develop a raging staff infection, or do a jumping jack in an effort to get healthy only to lose your squash to the overhead ceiling fan.
I’m not even going to get into the invisible bacteria growing on your feet, the latest hybrid monkey/bird/alligator/giraffe flu virus outbreak to hit the headlines, how your golf game is going to be interrupted when a celebrity crashes a vintage World War II fighter jet right in the middle of your back swing, or god damn it, the literally millions upon millions of spiders that are crawling up your nose each and every night, laying eggs, and throwing a massive disco dance party in the epicenter of your brain.
I’m not not going to worry about any of that anymore and neither should you.
Why?
See the beginning of this tirade where I did or did not shock you when I informed you I am not an important person.
As such, I have no ability to do anything about the vast multitude of problems that plague the world like a bad haircut on yearbook photo day.
Could I run for and win an elected office and use my wit and wisdom to cure all of society’s ills?
No.
Why?
First, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not all that handsome. I know ladies, I know. I’m sorry to devastate you with this news.
What? You figured it out? All men who spend a lot of time blogging look like a cross between Gollum and a chupacabra? Well, hey, let’s not go that far…um…yeah yeah, all right, that’s fair.
Second, I’m not a gifted public speaker – partly because my tongue ends up tied in more knots than a bag of Rold’s Gold and partly because I speak the truth people need to listen to, not the BS that John Q. Public wants to hear.
Third, I can’t be bought by the man – unless the man represents a prominent book publisher. In that case, then yes sir, my character can die, be reborn, wear a pink tutu, and/or kiss a goat. Whatever you want, sir. You just tell me how hairy you want that goat to be.
The average politician has to be good looking and photogenic, with a million dollar toothy grin. He needs to speak eloquently, with the ability to charm the pants off the room and a soul dark enough to allow him to spoon feed a heaping helping of horse manure with a side of fries to the masses – extra chunky, just how the masses like it.
Yes, if you wish to become a politician, you’ll be forced to compromise your principles in the name of campaign contributions. Those boku bucks come with a zip string that gets attached to your back, allowing the donor to yank on it and force you to regurgitate his agenda, turning you into one great big walking, talking Chatty Kathy doll.
The common man who cares about the average joe has no place in today’s political system. I’m not taking a side here. Democrats, Republicans, Libertarians, that weird party that insists on passing a law that would require everyone to wear shoes on their hands and walk upside down…they’re all just a bunch of heads attached to one great big bloated smelly hydra.
To quote the late great Douglas Adams of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy fame:
“The major problem – one of the major problems, for there are several – one of the many major problems with governing people is that of whom you get to do it; or rather who manages to get people to let them do it to them. To summarize: it is a well-known fact that those people who must want to rule people are, ipso facto, those least suited to do it. To summarize the summary: anyone who is capable of getting themselves made President should on no account be allowed to do the job.”
Be honest folks, do you think good old Abraham “Born in a Log Cabin and Educated Myself by Candlelight” Lincoln could ever get elected today?
No. Those losers on twitter would have a field day with him:
Tonight on Campaign 2016 News Coverage – Abraham Lincoln, the Great Emancipator. Sure, he freed the slaves and held the union together – but can we really be expected to follow a man with a face that craggy?
My friends, I guarantee you somewhere out there is an Abraham Lincoln-esque individual whose heart is in the right place, whose common sense and can do attitude could lead the world into a new dawn of peace and prosperity but….he’s too fat…too old…has a crooked nose, bad hair, a hella craggy face, or has been plagued by never-ending reports of a third grade scandal during which he picked a booger out of his schnozola and flicked it at an unsuspecting classmate who ended up traumatized for life.
In short, we’ve become a nation of dummies that focus on nothing but insignificant crap and then wonder why our leaders provide us with the same insignificant crap in return.
I don’t know. All I know is that our best possible leader has some problem that he knows the media would use to run roughshod over him and therefore he’s like, “Screw politics! I’m going to sell used Sonatas at the Hyundai dealership in Tulsa!”
“3.5 READERS: BQB – do you have a point?”
Yes! Over a thousand words later, I have a point! I really do.
I DO NOT CARE ABOUT THAT WHICH I AM POWERLESS TO CHANGE.
And if you’re a follower of this blog, then chances are, you don’t either. (Though if you do, you’re still more than welcome).
What do we do when we can’t change the sad state of affairs the world finds itself in?
We tune out and turn on the TV.
We pop in our earbuds and crank up the Top 40.
We purchase an overpriced bag of popcorn and take in the latest over the top, special effects laden blockbuster.
Hell, I heard a rumor that some people even poke their noses into a book once in awhile.
Pop culture. Open up our gobs and shovel it straight down to the deepest, darkest recesses of our bellies, Hollywood. We can’t get enough of it.
As the world gets worse and the average citizen becomes less able to change things thanks to Larry Lobbyist and Carl Corporation, we find our minds becoming more and more immersed in fictional, fantasy worlds – worlds where we can pretend we’re people that we are not, men and women we could never be, people with a voice, people who can make a difference…
…PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY MATTER!
I don’t know about you, but I devour pop culture like a fat guy at an All You Can Eat Big Mac Buffett because the worlds developed by artists are a thousand times better than the world I live in.
As fans of those worlds, do we matter?
Yes…and…no.
Yes, we matter because Hollywood will occasionally listen to us when we bitch about how they screwed the pooch with our favorite franchise, how they dropped the writing ball and steered our most beloved characters into an impermeable corner, or how sometimes they just do something out of left field (Dexter=Lumberjack??? Why???)
No, because like the other people that Holden Caulfield would call a bunch of phonies, Hollywood is also run by big corporations and CEOS who view you as one more schmuck to plunk down your cash and put your butt in a theater seat. Whether or not you are actually entertained is all too often an immaterial issue.
Can we change that?
No.
But we can ask those elusive questions – “WHO, WHAT, WHERE, WHEN AND THE EVER IMPORTANT, WHY?”
What happened to Mr. and Mr. Brady’s first spouses?
How the hell do Doc and Marty know each other?
Why couldn’t Rose have just gotten on that damn lifeboat like she was told?
Why does Miley Cyrus insist on sticking out her tongue and making a face akin to a weasel suffering from an epileptic seizure?
What time is Hammer Time?
Questions. Like you, I have so, so very many questions about pop culture.
I want to take the plot holes of my favorite movies and TV shows and spackle them over with putty, apoxy, glue, and dare I say, the finest caulk in the land.
I want to analyze celebrity meltdowns and learn why fame, fortune, and adoration of the masses wasn’t enough to keep our favorite stars from hitting the silly sauce, popping the goofy pills, or getting on social media and ranting with all the eloquence of a bull roid raging its way through a china shop.
The long and skinny of it?
I want to learn as much as I possibly can about the fantasy worlds in which my mind temporarily resides from time to time because the powers that be have made the real world around me so utterly unbearable.
ALIEN JONES: Jumpin’ Jupiter, BQB. You sound like you’re reverting to that 1990’s phase where you wore nothing but flannel and played Smells Like Teen Spirit on a continuous loop.
BQB: Not now, AJ. I’m on a roll.
My friends, my followers, my 3.5 readers, my dear, dear Aunt Gertrude…it is my great honor to announce a new feature on the Bookshelf Battle Blog:
Pop Culture Mysteries.
I have questions about pop culture and I’m sure you do too.
To that end, I have retained the services of a hardboiled 1950’s Sam Spade-esque, film noir style private detective to investigate all the questions we have about our favorite movies, TV shows, music, and yes even books.
Stop by every week as Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Detective takes our questions, sniffs out the clues, snoops around the suspects, chases down the leads, and reports back here with his findings.
It’s going to be one helluva ride, readers. Along the way, we might even learn how a 1950’s sleuth ended up in modern times.
As we speak, Detective Hatcher is hot on the trail of the questions listed above and more are on the way.
For reasons that will soon be made clear, he has committed to investigate no less than one hundred pop culture mysteries for the benefit of my readers before he’ll be able to renegotiate his contract.
Do you have a pop culture mystery that my resident gumshoe needs to unravel?
Tweet it to @bookshelfbattle or leave it #popculturemysteries
Leave it in the comments or on my Google Plus page
You’ll have to use me as an intermediary because, you know, Jake’s from the 1950’s and is still getting up to speed on computers.
Noble readers, as always, thanks a million for stopping by.
I don’t know why, but I have a feeling in my gut that this feature will be the one that makes bookshelfbattle.com blow up.
ALIEN JONES: I have that feeling in my gut too. It’s the after shocks of that rancid seven layer dip you bought at the quick-stop and served during Scandal night.
BQB: Can you…not tell the audience that Scandal night is a regular thing at BQB HQ? Please? OK
AJ: What? The Yeti already knows. And everyone knows that the three forms of mass communication are telephone, telegraph, and tell-a-yeti.
BQB: He is a relentless gossip. It’s true.
Thanks folks. I’ll let Jake take it from here. Stop by bookshelfbattle.com for the the first episode of POP CULTURE MYSTERIES!
BQB’s undercover mystery project begins.
Don’t miss Hatcher’s mysterious adventures on the Bookshelf Battle Blog
Jake Hatcher. Failed boxer. World War II hero. Honest cop later turned hardboiled private investigator. He carries the baggage of three ex-wives and a lifetime of regret.
In 1955, Hatcher fell asleep in his LA office only to wake up in 2014. He’s spent the last year trying to figure out what happened to no avail. Even worse, he’s surrounded by a world he doesn’t recognize and technology he doesn’t understand.
A mysterious blond dame offers him the chance to find his way back home but of course, there’s a catch. He’ll need to dust off his sleuthing skills and get to work.
Is his new acquaintance on the level or is she working him over? Time will tell.
But one thing’s for sure:
Hatcher will need your help.
One critic had this to say:
It’s writing. Words are arranged in an order that can be read.
– Alien Jones, Intergalactic Correspondent
Best review this blogger has ever received.
Meanwhile, BQB and the Meaning of Life is taking a hiatus. It’ll be back in a week or so. Catch up on what you’ve missed here.
One thing’s for sure, on a blog that features a goofy nerd, a conceited alien, a smelly yeti, and a mad scientist, we’ll finally get a character around here who can class up the joint:
Suck in your guts, nerds! There’s a lady present!
Copyright Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015. All rights reserved.
Images courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.
A Dirge of Murder and Betrayal
A Six Part Book Series
AUTHOR: Joel LL Torrow
PUBLISHER: Drunken Elf Publishing Concern
YEARS OF PUBLICATION: 1985-Present
Character butcher. Fantasy master. Hat and vest enthusiast. Santa Clause look alike.
Prolific writer Joel LL Torrow has been called these names and more, though “Fat Pay Cable Check Casher” would be more suitable if it weren’t for the fact that he refuses to allow his fame and fortune to go to his head, opting instead to live just a notch or two above an Amish person.
He still uses DOS. He still utilizes an ancient blogging site. And we’re fairly certain he churns his own butter, though we’venever seen him do it.
Joel LL Torrow, Author of the Dirge of Murder and Betrayal Series
Where other writers have crumpled up their pages, declared their work to be too farfetched and thrown it into the trash can, Torrow was the man who boldly declared, “I’m going to pen an elaborately complicated series of fantasy books geared toward adults even though children are typically the fantasy genre’s target audience, AND it’s going to involve over 928 main characters AND I’m going to kill them all off constantly in weird unexpected ways.”
Yup. He said all that. I heard him.
Modest to a fault yet always good to his fans, Torrow recently held a Q and A session with his biggest fan, Bookshelf Q. Battler.
Queen Anara “Annie” Mistwake and her horse before it was transformed into a damn pegasus.
The following is the reading order of the series, along with a brief synopsis of each book:
Book 1 – A Match of Wits – All is well in the Kingdom of Wentzlendale. The citizens prosper, the crops grow thick, and the various ruling clans get along famously. Alas, peace is torn asunder when the dimwitted King Winkytiddles trips and falls down five hundred flights of stairs yet miraculously, manages to survive until he rolls out into a nearby pig farm and is eaten by ravenous swine, who leap on the chance for revenge against a Kingdom who has seen them as nothing but a source of bacon.
Weber and Sasha Prissypants, who respectively, hold the illustrious titles of Duke and Duchess of Shabadoo, believe their time has come. Days before his passing, Winkytiddles drew up his last will and testament, which clearly states that the crown shall transfer to the Duke, since Winkytiddles had no heirs, as he had never married because all women found him hideous and weird and all the gold pieces in the royal treasury were not enough to compensate.
But the Cleric of Chutzington has something up his sleeve. Tiddlywinks was, in secret, madly in love to a pillow he drew a face on, so much so that he pretended the pillow was his wife and even referred to three smaller throw pillows as their children. The oldest, or rather, the pillow Windkytiddles had sewn first had a boy’s face drawn on it and thus, threw a series of backroom deals, the Cleric convinces the Holy Keepers of the Kingdom to declare pillows to be people, thus mandating by law that the crown passes to Prince Stuffy the First, the deceased King’s eldest pillow son.
BOOK 2 – In the Pillow King’s Name – Clan Prissypants declares this turn of events to be outrageous. In a stirring speech, the Duke of Shabadoo declares, “It’s a f&*king pillow for f^%’s sake!” Clans Sprankledank and Gibblegobble agree, and the three march toward Wentzenfort, the capital of Wentzlendale, prepared to sack the city and take control of the Kingdom. They unite under a banner emblazoned with the motto that becomes the title of Book 3.
BOOK 3 – It’s a F&*KING PILLOW FOR F%*K’S SAKE! – Clans Dooradox, Schpratzenpatz and Donkenstein are all exceptionally religious, swearing undying loyalty to any proclamations made by the Holy Keepers, no matter how ridiculous, especially if they lead to a f%&king pillow being crowned King. Their armies gather around Wentzenfort, prepared to protect the city at all costs.
BOOK 4 – A RAY OF SUN IN THE DARKNESS OF CLOUDS – Anara “Annie” Mistwake, abandoned in a gloomy forest as a child and raised by a band of drunken elves learns that she is the last member of Clan Zoovarin, the family who manufactured the pillow known as King Stuffy the First. An interpretation of holy law suggests that the King Stuffy is therefore a descendant of the Zoovarin line and as the pillow’s elder sister, the crown is, by right, Annie’s. The drunken elves are magical and use their powers to turn Annie’s horse into a damn pegasus. Annie assembles a massive army of her drunken adopted elf relatives and prepares to march on Wentzenfort.
BOOK 5 – THE TOURNAMENT OF THE STAR QUARTER – The Pro and Anti King Stuffy sides agree to a momentary peace in the hopes that the question of who the crown belongs to can be solved in a tournament. The Pro Stuffy side choose Burt Frederickson, a soldier revered for his bravery in battle.
The Anti Stuffy side selects Antagonizer Stabsmore, Legendary Stabsmith of the Stabsmore Isles, where the inhabitants are trained to be especially stabby from an early age. Literally, all those people do is eat, drink and stab all day long.
In the tourney, Frederickson pummels Stabsmore within an inch of his life when the Duchess of Shabadoo breaks wind, thus distracting the would be champion and allowing Stabsmore to get the upper hand, which he uses to grind Frederickon’s face into a fine paste.
The Pro Stuffy side cry foul. The Anti Stuffy side declare fair is fair. All bets are off and the war carries on.
Book 6 – An End for Crying Out Loud Already – (coming soon this Fall) – Annie Mistwake flies over Wentzenfort, shouts, “Hey everybody! Look over there!” and then watches as her drunken elves slaughter both sides, leaving her the throne, to the delight of her legions of loyal fans who buy Torrow’s books just to take in her adventures.
Surprisingly, Annie’s rule lasts less than five minutes. Hungry from battle, she devours some expired cottage cheese and dies instantly.
King Stuffy the First is overthrown. No seriously. He is literally thrown into a trash can. The peasants of the land abandon the monarchy form of government, install a democratic system and only proceed to elect rulers that make them yearn for King Winkytiddles.
Thanks to the magic bookshelf, a tiny version of Anara Mistwake has been known to fly around the BQB compound. BQB has known her for years, yet she still insists on introducing herself and stating her multiple titles every time she sees him.
BQB’s attorney reminds readers this is a parody.
Mark your calendars, 3.5 readers.
Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Private Eye
Project X gets a name and begins Monday, June 1. Hardboiled 1950’s era detective Jake Hatcher will become a guest contributor for the Bookshelf Battle Blog, which should be interesting seeing as how computers aren’t exactly his strong suit.
He is 95 years old, after all. Looks good for his age, doesn’t he?
Past meets present and our illustrious gumshoe will need your assistance.
BQB will explain what this new feature is all about on June 1 and then Jake will take it away June 2.
BQB and the Meaning of Life will be on hiatus for awhile, but will return later in June after Jake’s first adventure.
In the meantime, you can catch up on your BQB and the Meaning of Life reading or check out some of the Project X promos.
Detective image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.
“Plato says that the unexamined life is not worth living. But what if the examined life turns out to be a clunker as well?”
― Kurt Vonnegut, Wampeters, Foma and Granfalloons
Wowie zowie 3.5 readers!
Bookshelf Q. Battler sure is finally going to leave the Bookshelf Battle Compound! What a historic occasion.
“I have to wait over a week for the next part of Bookshelf Q. Battler and the Meaning of Life?!”
And yep…we’re going to make you wait a week or so before you read it.
That’s because here at the Bookshelf Battle Blog, Official Internet Stomping Grounds of Our Hero, the Illustrious Bookshelf Q. Battler, we know you’ll want to take a moment to catch up and read the story thus far:
PARTS 1-5 – Our hero dies after eating a lightning infused pop tart, is told by Shakespeare to seek the meaning of life, and is revived.
Read parts 6-13 below (in which our hero recovers from his butt injury, Holmes and Watson offer their assistance, and as it turns out, the meaning of life allegedly rests in the brain of the Great Guru, who lives on the top of a mountain on a war torn island)
PART 6 – The Return of Bookshelf Q. Battler
PART 7 – The Butt Pillow
PART 8 – Troublesome Characters
PART 9 – The Game is Afoot!
PART 10 – Sell-Out
PART 11 – A Most Annoying Manner
PART 12 – War in Pango Tango
PART 13 – Young Duffer
Fear not, 3.5 readers! You’ll be thoroughly entertained with a brand new story series that Bookshelf Q. Battler himself will introduce tomorrow!
Surprised woman at her computer photo courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.
THE INCORRIGIBLE MONROE
AUTHOR: Alexander T. Buttercross
PUBLISHER: Bullfinch House
YEAR OF PUBLICATION: 1927
There’s a reason why Alexander T. Buttercross’ classic novel, The Incorrigible Monroe, has been a staple for high school English classes for over eight decades.
There just isn’t a piece of writing that captures the decade known as “The Roaring Twenties” any better.
Cheers to You, Young Duffer
In his day, Buttercross penned multiple tales surrounding the lives of the ennui laden rich, folks whose fortunes skyrocketed during a boom period for the U.S. economy, leaving them with little to do other than wile away the hours, drink heavily, philosophize needlessly, spend extravagantly, and nazel gaze to no end, scrutinizing every inch of their personal life choices and decisions.
In retrospect, historians are left to ponder whether upper crust society would have rested on their laurels for so long had they been aware that the Great Stock Market Crash would close out the decade in 1929, thus ushering in the Great Depression of the 1930’s.
Truly the best read that Buttercross ever produced was the life story of Sid Monroe, the larger than life go-getter who spends lavishly on extravagant parties at his Chicago mansion in the hope that by doing so, he’ll impress and win the heart of Jenny, the woman he so desperately loves.
This reviewer dares to claim that if one were to pile up every romance novel ever written, they’d all surely pale in comparison the sheer gut wrenching emotion of Monroe’s inner turmoil.
On the outside, Monroe is everything to everyone. He speaks with an air of sophistication and oozes a mixture of Ivy League breeding with a man of the people charm. He’s a notorious glad hander, always quick with a handshake, a humorous anecdote, a hilarious joke, and almost as out of an effort to manufacture a witty personality out of whole cloth, insists on referring to everyone he meets as, “Young Duffer.”
It’s sort of his trademark.
Monroe can have his pick of any woman he wants in the Chicago nightlight circles but alas, his heart beats only for Jenny. Meanwhile, Jenny is slavishly devoted to the boorish, ill-tempered Gustavo, who beats her viciously with a wet noodle, curses like a sailor, and drains his wife’s inheritance on his obsession with pointy German helmets.
In fact, SPOILER ALERT – the novel climaxes when Monroe and Gustavo quarrel over the obscene number of pointy German helmets Gustavo has purchased (an entire warehouse full). Fisticuffs are exchanged, a struggle ensues and Monroe is tragically impaled on one.
His sad last words?
“Kind of wish I’d realized there were other fish in the sea before right now…ack!”
Kind of wish I’d realized there were other fish in the sea before right now ack, indeed.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy
A tiny version of the Incorrigible Monroe has been known to throw extravagant parties right on BQB’s magic bookshelf. Outwardly, BQB and Monroe couldn’t be more different (BQB being a nerd while Monroe is a smooth talker. However, they both suffer from the affliction of “Caring Too Much About Women Who Don’t Like Us Syndrome” and have wasted away many an evening conversing over martinis.
BQB’s Attorney says, “This is a parody.”
Man with martini image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.
Arrowblast
A Six Part Series
AUTHOR: Rebecca Martley
PUBLISHER: Schmeckford, Schmeckford and Dondlinger
DATES OF PUBLICATION: 2012-2015
When it comes to Young Adult fiction, Rebecca Martley’s Arrowblast sets the gold standard. Others may try, but few will be able to match Martley’s skills in world building or character development.
The setup?
Tessa sets at least fifty fires a day in the BQB compound. Luckily, BQB always keeps a fire extinguisher handy.
In the future, and also in an alternate dimension, a second version of Earth is conquered by the cruel and unjust Overlord Kwazlo, who is by far just the nastiest jerk-face you could ever possibly imagine. Where the world was once a happy place, it has now descended into decay and despair, as Kwazlo has outlawed all fun and merriment under penalty of death.
On a farm in the middle of nowhere, Tessa Fireswarm lives with her kindly Uncle Larry, her parents having been kidnapped by the Kwazlo Regime and forced to slave away in a mine. Larry is a pleasant fellow who’s refused to let the sorry state of the world get him down.
One night, Larry sings a happy tune, and unlucky for him, a contingent of Kwazlo’s men hear it. Instantly, they insert Larry into a high-velocity cannon and blast him into the stratosphere, where scientific principles dictate he’d either pop like a ripe watermelon, burn up to a crisp in the atmosphere, or suffer a heart attack from the trauma of being shot out of a cannon.
Tessa, once a peaceful girl, vows revenge and plots an attack on Castle Kwazlo. She recruits her dueling love interests, the handsome and dashing Esteban and the dorky yet dependable Melvin.
The rest, as they say, is history. Here’s the reading order along with a short synopsis of each book:
Arrowblast 1 – The Song Sentence – With no prior battlefield experience or training, three teenagers who’ve never held a weapon before manage to fight their way past Kwazlo’s forward defenses, using little more than their luck, wit and a bow and arrow Uncle Larry used to shoot squirrels with. Seriously, Tessa was the only armed one. Esteban and Melvin just threw rocks and doled out wedgies.
Arrowblast 2 – Big Box Office Returns – Following the monumental success of the summer blockbuster Arrowblast movie, Martley rolled up her sleeves and delighted her fans with a sequel. Kwazlo, infuriated that three plucky teenagers with no prior battlefield experience and only one bow and arrow were able to defeat an entire division of his army, invents an evil Tessa look alike robot. Robo Tessa tricks the dimwitted Esteban to wander off to what surely will be a gruesome fate. Melvin is immune to Robo Tessa’s charms as he’s too in love with the real Tessa to be hoodwinked by an imposter. Real Tessa is moved by Melvin’s loyalty, but chooses Esteban anyway because, well, it’s never expressly said because he’s better looking than Melvin but…yeah.
Arrowblast 3 – Three Time’s a Blast – Kwazlo hires 3,000 assassins to hunt down Tessa. Tessa shoots all but one of them in the face with her bow and arrow aka “The Arrowblaster.” The worst assassin, Demonus Repulsivo, takes a shot at Tessa. Esteban yells “Feets don’t fail me now!” and runs the hell out of there. Melvin, without thinking, jumps in front of Tessa and takes the hit, becoming mortally wounded. Tessa still chooses Esteban because…yeah.
Arrowblast 4 – This is Getting Ridiculous – Melvin recovers on Uncle Larry’s farm while Tessa and Esteban infiltrate Castle Kwazlo. They’re surprised at how easily they are able to penetrate the vile dictator’s defenses when suddenly, they find themselves hanging by their feet over a pit of lava filled with man eating sharks that have been genetically modified to be resistant to lava burns. It was a trap all along. Melvin, after receiving word of Tessa’s fate, makes an impassioned and moving speech that convinces all of the farmers in the land to take up arms and march to Castle Kwazlo. Melvin leads the charge, defeats all the sharks, and frees Tessa and Esteban. In the end, Tessa chooses Esteban because…you know, Esteban has a six-pack and plays football while Melvin has glasses and is all nerdy and shit.
Arrowblast 5 – Cashgrabber Supreme – Following the success of the Arrowblast 1, 2, 3, 3.5, 4, 4.3, 4.5 and 4.9 movies, Martley bring us a fifth installment of her unstoppable franchise that makes the youth of the world swoon and writers from here to Cucamonga green with envy. Melvin is finally over Tessa. He gets laser eye surgery and finds a love interest in Janessica Paramour. Suddenly, Tessa wants to be all over Melvin but he lets her know she can talk to the hand. Kwazlo attacks the base of the revolutionary farmers but our band of heroes fend off the attack. Following the battle, Melvin lets Tessa know that his love for her continues to burn brightly and he’s hers if she’ll have him. Tessa replies, “Well, now that you want me again it’s not that interesting! See ya’!” Janessica hears the entire exchange and kickboxes Melvin in the face.
Arrowblast 6 – The Final Blastening: Parts 1-3 – Exhausted from having to constantly fend off attacks from an army of teenagers with little to no battlefield experience, Kwazlo develops a gigantic laser cannon designed to burn up anyone under 21. Melvin leads the attack on the laser cannon itself. Tessa oversees the ground forces as they overrun Castle Kwazlo once and for all. Esteban is charged with leading a second wave on the laser but gets lost in a canyon and refuses to ask for directions. In a final battle royale, Tessa delivers a death blow to her arch enemy. She unmasks him to discover that Kwazlo was in fact, Uncle Larry the entire time. Except it’s not the Larry Tessa knew. It’s Larry from the other version of Earth, thus totally blowing fans minds and causing them to lose their shit all over Twitter. Melvin and Tessa marry and become just rulers. Esteban remains lost in the canyon for ten years. Finally, he finds his way out and Tessa divorces Melvin to marry Esteban, because he’s friggin’ Esteban. Enraged, Melvin dons the mask of Kwazlo, thus beginning the upcoming twenty part series: The New Kwazlo: Rebecca Needs a House in Malibu.
A tiny version of Tessa frequents the Bookshelf Battle Compound, thanks to the magic bookshelf. BQB is constantly putting out fires caused by Tessa’s arrow blasts, which she fires indiscriminately and with reckless abandon with no regard for BQB’s property.
Find out more in BQB and The Meaning of Life – Part 1 – A Toaster Pastry Too Far
Copyright Bookshelf Q. Battler (2015) All Rights Reserved
Image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license
BQB’s Attorney says: “This is a parody.”
PREVIOUSLY ON BOOKSHELF Q. BATTLER AND THE MEANING OF LIFE…
Our hero, BQB dies on the toilet, much like Elvis except with more lightning. He returns to life after being advised by William Shakespeare to seek the meaning of life. Thus far, all he has managed to do is eat cornflakes while resting his butt on a prescription donut pillow whilst being lectured by the greatest detective of all time.
AND NOW BQB AND THE MEANING OF LIFE CONTINUES…
“Look,” I said. “I’m not an idiot. I realize Blandie is never coming back. But she was an important part of my life for years. So what if I keep a picture of her around?”
“Prominently displayed on the wall behind your kitchen table,” Holmes said.
“And so what if I changed my life for her?” I asked. “Maybe she was the reason in the beginning, but after awhile, I stayed in the business world because I believed there was a better chance of success for me as a businessman than as a writer. Everyone who can push a pencil thinks he can write. I thought at least in business there would not be as much competition. I had no idea the economy would tank and a lousy assistant’s assistant job would be all I could find.
“And every day you wonder what would have been had you taken the time you spent rising to a go-nowhere job at Beige Corp. and applied it to your love of the English language,” Holmes said.
Average Beige Corp employee.
I banged my forehead against the table with a thud.
“Yes,” I said. “You’re right. Every day of my life I wonder exactly that.”
“I’ve done it again, Watson!”
“You’ve solved the case, Holmes?”
“Elementary, my dear Watson,” Holmes said. “Elementary! Mr. Bookshelf’s testicles now reside in a mason jar prominently displayed on his ex-girlfriend’s night stand!”
“Highly unlikely, Holmes.”
“I’m speaking metaphorically, man!”
“You know, Old Sports,” Gatsby chimed in. “Some of us are trying to read the funny papers.”
“Guys,” I said. “I appreciate you trying to help. But that isn’t even what’s been bothering me lately.”
“Then please, Mr. Bookshelf,” Watson said. “Unload your burden on our ears, sir. It is the least we can do for the room and board you provide us.”
“You wouldn’t believe me,” I said.
“We’ve seen many unbelievable things,” Holmes said.
I sighed.
“After the toilet incident, I briefly died,” I said. “I found myself in God’s waiting room, where William Shakespeare, the greatest writer of our common language, informed me that he had been appointed as my spiritual guide. He then told me that the best experience man can hope for is a brief, fleeting moment of contentment, and that can only be provided by discovering the meaning of life, the path toward which I will find in a most annoying manner.”
Holmes, Watson, and Gatsby all shot blank stares in my general direction.
“Sounds like somebody needs to lay off the goofy juice, Old Sport.”
“You guys don’t believe me?” I asked.
“Mr. Bookshelf,” Holmes said. “My archenemy is a traitorous university professor. Watson and I once encountered a case that involved allegations of a murderous ghost dog. Your claim of meeting the Bard after dying in your latrine does not provide me with any doubt whatsoever. Watson and I shall gladly help you solve this mystery.”
“Indeed we shall,” Watson said.
“It will be even greater than the case we just solved moments ago,” Holmes said. “The Case of the Meaning of Life!”
“I always thought it was to eat a balanced diet, perform your calisthenics without fail, and when in doubt, swallow a heaping table spoon of cod liver oil,” Watson said.
“You’re thinking of how to live a clean life,” Holmes said. “We’re talking about the meaning of life.”
“Party all day and convince others you’re better than they think you are, Young Duffer,” Monroe said.
“That actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” I replied.
“Bark! Bark! Bark!”
Unnoticed by me, Bookshelf Q. Battle Dog had left the kitchen and made his way to the living room.
“Now then, Watson,” Holmes said. “We must return to the bookshelf and consult Mr. Bookshelf’s volumes pertaining to science, religion, philosophy, and spirituality.”
“BARK! BARK! BARK!”
Bookshelf Q. Battle Dog’s barks grew louder and louder.
“A wise course of action, Holmes,” Watson said. “Surely some scholar has expounded upon the meaning of life.”
“BARK! BARK! BARK!”
“Battle Dog!” I yelled. “Keep it down in there!”
“Devise a list of noted philosophers, Watson,” Holmes said. “We will start with the modern thinkers and work our way backwards until…”
“BARK! BARK! BARK!”
“I say,” Holmes said. “Is it possible to shut that hound’s mouth…his incessant yammering is really most…”
Holmes and I looked at each other, smiled, then said it together.
“ANNOYING!
Surely you are brimming with anticipation over the next part of BQB and the Meaning of Life! Stop begging. You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow.
Copyright (C) Bookshelf Q. Battler 2015. All Rights Reserved.
Oh Sir Arthur Conan Doyle please forgive me.
Bookshelf Battle 