Tag Archives: horror

Top Ten Ways to Pick Up Chicks During a Zombie Apocalypse

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It’s the end of the world…but that doesn’t mean it has to be the end of your love life.

Let’s face it.  Anyone could be eaten by a brain biting bastard any second.  So, I mean, even though you’re a total CHUD and weren’t able to pick up pussy with a handle in real life, you might be able to score with a chick during the end of days.  After all the fear of death around any corner is a total turn-on.

So, from BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Ways to Pick Up Chicks During a Zombie Apocalypse:

#10 – Tell her you are sorry her husband was eaten by a zombie.

Maybe you are actually sorry her husband was chomped.  Maybe you liked the guy.  Maybe you thought he was a dick and cheered the zombie on.  Maybe you were jealous that such a big doofus had such a hot wife, so you pushed the prick right in the way of those undead choppers.  Doesn’t matter.  She’s sad her man is dead, so be a gentleman, give he some condolences and wait at least until sundown before you make a move.  Any earlier than that is disrespectful to the dead, unless her husband became a zombie after he gotten bitten.  In that case, fuck that guy, because he’s a damn zombie now and he deserves no human pussy.

#9 – Lie About Your Heroic Feats

Your mother told you not to lie?  Oh, that’s adorable.  :::slaps you::: Bitch, get real!  The newspapers are out of business and no one’s keeping score, so feel free to embellish your resume.

NO – “I have been hiding in my closet with a baseball bat for three years, leaving occasionally to pee.”

YES – “I single handedly saved 100 orphans by fending off 1,000 zombies with nothing but a bottle opener and a toothpick.  I then taught the orphans kung fu and trained them into  a vicious zombie army and together, we kicked the heads off of 10,000 zombies.  I then found a town that was being abused by a cruel dictator.  So, I told him to leave or I kick his face off with a roundhouse kick.  He refused to leave, so I indeed removed his face with a kick.  All the women of the village were so turned on that they allowed me to impregnate them. In short, I kill at least 500 zombies a day before breakfast and I have saved the lives of 500,000 people.”

#8 – Share your rations.

Bitches love rations.

#7 – Pay women to spread rumors of your sexual prowess.

Women will often ignore a guy until they hear another woman wants him.  It’s called having stank on your hang-low.   So, just give some extra rations to some ladies and tell them there’s more where that came from if they tell every woman they meet about the hot time you had together.

#6 – Punch the biggest guy in the survivor camp in the face.

Chicks dig manliness.

#5 – Be fashionable.

Free shopping in all clothing stores.  There is no excuse for your tired ass look now.

#4 – Grow some shit.

It’s the zombie apocalypse, bitch.  Po-po has more to worry about than your herb garden.  Get yourself a green thumb and become a weed farmer.  Bitches love weed, especially during a zompoc.  Helps them get their minds off of potentially being eaten by zombies.

#3 – Get some ringer zombies.

Like, don’t take on some strong ass zombies who were weightlifters in their previous lives.  Get a couple of slow, fat zombies, turn them lose and karate chop their heads off.  All the babe will see is that you saved her ass and won’t realize that these were ringer zombies.  Never be too proud to fix a human vs. zombie fight.

#2 – Lie about your past.

Remember #9?  Guess what?  There are no fact checkers in the zombie apocalypse, so feel free to lie about your past too.

NO:  Baby, I was a jizz mopper at a gentlemen’s club.

YES:  Baby, I was a NAVY seal.  I killed 10,000 men with my pinky finger.

RULE OF THUMB:  Smarter the babe, the more realistic the lie.  If you’re a flabby fat fuck, a smart babe will not believe you were a NAVY seal.  But that’s OK.  You can just tell her you had your own Silicon Valley startup company and made a fortune.  Hell, promise her if the government and economy are ever restored, you’ll share some of your dough with her.  (Don’t worry.  People are lazy as fuck.  It’ll take like thousands of years for the government to be restored, so you’re in the clear.)

#1 – Don’t tell her if the government and economy are restored.

You’ve whisked her away to a secluded shack.  One day, she goes out in search of berries. Suddenly, there’s a power surge.  The TV and lights turn on.  A news anchor says all the zombies are dead and the world has been restored.

I mean, yeah, you could tell her that shit’s fine now so she can go back to her old boyfriend or…dude, please, you know I’ll lose all respect for you if you don’t rip that fuckin’ TV cord out of the wall, find the fuse box and turn all that shit off and tell her she better get her ass back here where it’s safe and don’t even think about looking for no berries again.  But be cool, just let her know it’s safe in that cabin, and only in that cabin, and you’ll protect her.

DISCLAIMER:  This was all just a joke.  You should be nice to women and considerate of their feelings and do not trick them and so forth. Don’t call them bitches and so on.  They are more than just their vaginas.  You should also be nice to women during a zombie apocalypse.  Share rations because you worry they are hungry, not because you think it might get you laid.  Be honest about your past (though she won’t, let’s be real) and if the zompoc ends…tell her…

…seriously, if the zombie apocalypse ends, tell her…within 5-7 days.  OK, fine, immediately.

 

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The Return of Count Krakovich, Incompetent Vampire

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Bleh!  I vant to suck your blood, 3.5 readers…bleh, but I don’t want to do a lot of work so bleh, bleh please just lay your necks down and make some holes in them with your necks so I can just slurp out the blood and then…

Bleh! Where are you going?  It sure is hard being a lazy, incompetent, asshat vampire.  In fact, you might have noticed that this year my name has been changed from Asshat Vampire to Incompetent Vampire.

Anyway 3.5 readers, I do like to check in with you all once a Halloween.  How have you all been?  I hope you have all been murdering many vampires because I hate those guys ever since they kicked me out of the League of Vampires.

I wish I had more to say but I have been a very depressed vampire as of late.  In fact I think I might just quit being a vampire.  Is that even possible?  Someone contact a vampire lawyer and let me know.

That’s it.  I am even incompetent at writing columns.  Happy Halloween 3.5 losers.  Bleh!

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Top Ten Warning Signs Your Boyfriend Might Be a C.H.U.D.

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C.H.U.D.s

They stink.  See, the Millenials aren’t aware of this.  If you tell them a C.H.U.D. stinks, they’ll just be all like, whatever, you should just be nicer to the C.H.U.D. or hug him more or try to understand where the C.H.U.D. is coming from.

But if you’re a Gen Xer like me then you know C.H.U.D.s are no joke, and you certainly don’t want to be dating one.  Ergo, from BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Warning Signs You Might Be Dating a C.H.U.D.

#10 – Lives in the sewer.

Dead giveaway.  There is no reason for anyone to live in a sewer.  Sounds like your boyfrined might an “underground dweller” who puts the “UD” in CHUD.  Yeah, I’m lazy.  I will no longer put the period after each letter.

#9 – He is cannibalistic.

You saw him frying up a nice hand sandwich?  No, that wasn’t a typo.  I didn’t mean ham sandwich.  I meant hand sandwich.  Look, the dude’s eating a damn hand and you’re trying to make excuses for him.  “Aww, the poor guy, he just had a bad childhood.  If I love him more, he’ll stop eating people.”

No, bitch!  You in love with a damn CHUD!  Run bitch, run!

Also, he puts the C in CHUD.

#8 – He is a humanoid.

Always date an actual human.  A human is a human.  A humanoid is a creature that has a head and arms and legs and many of the same features as a human but is not a human.  Just because it moves like a human doesn’t mean it is a human.  Get some self-confidence.  Don’t settle for humanoid.  You deserve a full blown human.

He puts the H in CHUD.  That’s right.  He is a Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dweller.

#7 – He is super ugly.

Well, let’s be practical.  A lot of people are ugly.  Sure, we all wish we could date supermodels but after the sex, would we have anything in common to talk about?  Probably not.  So ladies, perhaps you might want to give a guy a break if he’s bald or pudgy or not so handsome but….yeesh…holy shit girl, that dude not just ugly, he a damn CHUD!

Only you can tell the difference between ugliness and CHUDness.

#6 – Smells bad.

Most men do.  We take pride in our farts.  But is the stench natural or CHUD-like?  You be the judge.  If you have to ask, you know the answer.  Run bitch, run.

#5 – Has bright yellow eyes.

Eyes aren’t supposed to glow.  Get out of there before you’re a snack.

#4 – Has pointy teeth.

We’re not talking just a lack of quality dental care.  We’re talking pointy, human biting teeth.

#3 – The best soldiers and police officers of the 1980s don’t seem like they’d be able to stop him.

But then again, they never could in any 1980s movie.

#2 – It’s like you’ve heard of him, but don’t really know him per se.

Yeah, I’ve heard ugly people be called CHUDS hundreds of times and have even been on the receiving end.  I understand the reference but to this day I have not bothered to watch the actual movie.  It’s one of those movies where you must be a real weirdo if you’ve bothered to seek it out and watch it.

#1 – He tried to eat you.

You’re better than that.  Don’t beat yourself up about it.  Just run and also know that you’re worthy of love that doesn’t lead to you ending up in a CHUD’s colon.  I know, that’s the most beautiful thing that’s ever been said to you.  What can I say?  I have a way with words.

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Bookshelf Battle Log #1 – 10/28/17 – Zom-bo-ween

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Happy Halloween weekend, 3.5 readers.

Oh what a holiday.  Started by Puritans to ward off evil spirits and now grown ass adults use it as an excuse to have as much cheap, meaningless sex as possible.  How times have changed.

Alas, I won’t be at BQB HQ this ‘Ween to pass out treats but fear not for there will be no tricks.  My trusty security chief, Bookshelf Q. Battle Dog, will be left behind to dispense treats and his own brand of canine philosophy to any little miscreants who happen to stop by.

What could get me out of my compound on my favorite holiday?  Zombies.  Yes!  Zombies.  It seems there has been a zombie invasion in Pittsburgh so the good people of this fair city got together and asked yours truly to save them.  Gotta say that is literally the one and only reason I’d ever actually visit Pittsburgh because, let me tell you, this place is the pits.

While I’m away, why don’t you read some of the fabulous interviews I conducted of zombie authors in October of 2015?  Yes, people with actual successful writing careers were willing to talk to me.  31 zombie authors to be exact, one a day for 31 days. Plus, you’ll find the journal I kept while East Randomtown was being ransacked by hideous brain chompers.

Remember, 3.5 readers, wear your helmets because this zombie hunter can’t be everywhere.  Protect your gray matter because without it, you won’t be able to think and more importantly, you won’t be able to read my blog or my book and, well, come to think of it, critics have called my work pretty brainless so…sure, I guess if you want to give up your brains to a hungry zombie, be my guest.  Who am I to stand in your way?  I just don’t advise it from a medical standpoint.  I mean, I’m no doctor but I just can’t help that physically losing your brains would be good for you.

I don’t do.  Don’t take my word for it.  Don’t take a zombie’s word for it easier because, you know, they’re biased.  Also, the only word they can say is, “BRAINS!”  Just do your research.

Check out those interviews here.

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Toilet Gator Second Draft Production Begins

3.5 readers, I am so excited to tell you that I have begun the long, hard slog toward finishing a second draft of my beloved novel, “Toilet Gator,” which really and truly is the best novel ever written about toilets, gators, or toilet gators.

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My goodness, 3.5 readers.  Isn’t that a wonderful cover?  Anyway, this is the first time I have begun a second novel draft.  It seems like it will be a long, arduous process.  The novel is approximately 140,000 words and so far I have rewritten 7,000 of them.  It is nice to be able to start solving problems I saw as I wrote the first draft but felt it would just slow me down to fix them, so now the time to fix them has come.

I hope when this book comes out, you will all support it and tell your friends, because if Toilet Gator is a success, then I can really bank some cash on the sequel, Son of Toilet Gator:

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You don’t even want to see what the cover of Book 3 will look like.

3.5 readers, I’ll be honest.  I’m no spring chicken and the older I get, the more I just want to stop and smell the daisies, then lie down in the dirt and wawit for the moss to grow over me.

So, if this blog makes you happy, and you think that being able to read wonderful books like Toilet Gator and Son of Toilet Gator would bring joy to your life, then please, do what you can to support my little enterprise here.

Read this fine blog.  Tell your friends.  Help get me some traffic.  If I can make money off this, then I can put more time into entertaining you, my beloved 3.5 readers, who I would never want to see be eaten by a toilet gator.

Do watch out for toilet gators, 3.5 readers.  They’re everywhere and in greater numbers than you’d think.  Frankly, I have taken my life into my hands by publishing their secret, so much so that I get scared every time I sit on the throne to poop now, and not just because I’m a burrito fan.

Stay tuned, 3.5 readers.

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Vote for Your Favorite Cover – How the West Was Zombed

Hey 3.5 readers.

How the West Was Zombed was my first finished book draft, the one that started it all.

Finally, I’m getting it a cover.

So, vote for your favorite.

https://99designs.com/contests/poll/e821zg

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Son of Toilet Gator – Chapter 6

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Dirk and Natalya had settled into a cozy, private bedroom in the Imperial Honcho’s estate. Together, they eased back onto the bed and engaged in a rousing game of big league tonsil hockey.

“Oh Mr. Smegma,” Natalya cried as she ran her hands through her new lover’s hair.

“Please. Call me Dirk.”

“Oh Dirk! Your scent it’s so…manly.”

“Nothing but one hundred percent Eau de Dirk, baby,” Dirk said. “I find that the more cologne I put on, the more I mask my naturally macho odor and when I do that, the ladies are left disappointed.”

“I’m sure you do all you can to avoid being a disappointment,” Natalya said.

“In life and in the bedroom, baby,” Dirk said as he went in for another kiss, only to be rebuffed when Natalya pressed her finger up against his lips.

“Hold that thought, darling. I must tinkle.”

“I understand,” Dirk said. “You wouldn’t be the first woman to lose bladder control in my presence and I doubt you’ll be the last. Do hurry back my dear.”

As Natalya retreated to the bathroom, Kendra squawked in Dirk’s ear. “Dirk! What are you doing?!”

“Uh,” Dirk whispered into a tiny microphone implanted in his shirt collar. “What does it sound like I’m doing? I’m about to get my pickle tickled, duh!”

“Have you placed the tracker on the Imperial Honcho’s toilet yet?” Kendra asked.

“Not now, K-Diddy,” Dirk said. “I’ve got a piece of fabulously wealthy Russian cooze to attend to.”

“We’re on a tight schedule here!” Kendra said.

“Oh I know it’s going to be very tight,” Dirk said. “But don’t worry, I’ll squeeze it in.”

“Pervert,” Kendra said. “Do I really have to go over the mission particulars with you?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Dirk said. “But you will anyway…”

“Damn right I will,” Kendra said. “As we speak, Skippy Jr. is waiting in the septic tank. We have twenty minutes before the guards on our payroll bury the tank so they can avoid being caught. You need to get to that toilet, mark it, get the hell out of there and leave Skippy Jr. enough time to chow down on the Honcho, and exit out of the tank just in time to be snatched by the skyhook.”

“Which leaves me roughly five minutes to plant my skyhook in some snatch,” Dirk said. “Plenty of time.”

“Five minutes?” Kendra asked. “I wouldn’t brag about that.”

“Bshh bzzt,” Dirk said. “Oh no, Special-K, you’re breaking up…”

“Don’t you cut me off, Smegma,” Kendra said.

“Bzzt bshhk,” Dirk said. “Oh my God I’m just going to have to enjoy some meaningless, gratuitous sex with a beautiful woman and then go save the day.”

“Dirk,” Kendra said. “Gamble with your own life all you want, but you’re putting Skippy Jr. at risk.”

“Skippy Jr.?” Dirk asked. “Who cares? He’s just a dumb alligator. If we lose him we can just get that crazy professor to make some more.”

A third voice entered Dirk’s earpiece. “Raarga.”

Dirk’s eyes widened. “Oh…hey Skippy Jr., how are you doing buddy?”

“Raarga.”

“Gee whiz,” Dirk said. “I didn’t know this was a party line.”

“Raarga.”

“Don’t mind him, Skippy Jr.,” Kendra said. “He knows not what he does.”

The bathroom door opened. Natalya stepped out. She had changed into a skimpy, silky piece of lingerie. She’d let her hair down and removed her shoes.

“I’m sorry I took so long, Dirk,” Natalya said. “I had to change into something more comfortable.”

Dirk gulped as he checked out Natalya’s body. “Mind? No, I don’t have a mind at all.”

“You’ve lost your mind,” came Kendra’s voice into the earpiece. “You think women just walk around with a sexy outfit to change into? The bitch is probably a spy.”

Dirk ignored Kendra and patted a spot on the bed next to him. The lady sat down, kissed Dirk passionately, then lifted her leg up into the air, landing the foot on Dirk’s right shoulder.

“Tell me, Dirk,” Natalya said. “Are you a leg man?”
“I’m actually an ass man,” Dirk replied. “Though I’ve never been one to sneeze at a pair of getaway sticks as lovely as these.”

“Getaway sticks?” Natalya asked.

“Just a fun term we use for legs in the U.S.,” Dirk said. “Because they’re a couple of sticks a woman can use to get away.”

Natalya used her foot to push on the side of Dirk’s head until he laid back on the bed.

“I love my legs, don’t you?” Natalya asked.

“Oh sweetheart,” Dirk said. “I love everything about you.”

“Gag me,” came Kendra’s voice.

“Tell me, Dirk,” Natalya said. “Do you enjoy the taste of a woman?”

“Meh,” Dirk said. “I prefer to receive than give, baby, but I’m always down with a little cunnilingus if the favor is returned.”

Natalya straddled Dirk’s face, leaving a panty clad vagina to land right on his face.

“Oh,” Dirk said. “Hello there, that’s quite a…mmpphh!”

“Dirk,” came Kendra’s voice. “I’m reviewing Natayla Snatchatova’s file and it’s no good. You need to get out of there right now.”

Natalya pushed herself further down onto Dirk’s face, leaving the agent so he could barely breathe. “Mmpph!”

“Her father is Anatoly Popov’s number one campaign contributor,” Kendra said. “She’s involved in all sorts of black market dealings…”

“How’s that, my love?” Natalya asked.

Dirk’s muffled cries for help grew more serious. “Mmmph!”

“She’s a top hit woman for the FSB,” Kendra said. “Interpol suspects of her murdering fifty men with her vagina alone.”

Dirk grabbed hold of Natalya’s legs and pushed up with all his might. Finally, he gasped for air and was able to speak. “Do…you…expect me to…lick?”

“Muah ha ha!” Natalya said. “No, Mr. Smegma. I expect you to die!”

Natalya clamped her legs down around Dirk’s head, leaving the hero feeling as though his cranium was trapped in a silky smooth vice. He gasped for air as he stood up. He flailed about the room but it was of no use, as Natalya refused to release her snatchtastic grip.
Dirk ran into a wall, hoping the blow would knock his assailant off, but she simply grinder her lady business into the agent’s face harder.

“Dirk?” Kendra asked. “Are you alright? Jesus, you’re literally going to be killed by a pussy, aren’t you? No surprise there.”

Completely blinded by vagina, both on a personal but more importantly, on a physical level, Dirk felt around the room until he found the bathroom door.

“Muah ha ha!” Natalya cried. “Die, Mr. Smega! Die by the lips of my vatrushka!”

Dirk stumbled into the bathroom. He pulled a small black box out of his pocket and flipped a switch, causing a light on the device to blink red. He then tossed the gadget into the toilet.

Crack! Dirk thrashed his attacker into the mirror, smashing it into pieces. Natalya was unfazed, her sole focus on murdering Dirk with her beaver.

“Poor Mr. Smegma,” Natalya said as she tightened the grip of her legs around the back of Dirk’s neck. “I’m so sorry you must leave but you must admit darling, there are worse ways to go.”

The toilet rumbled.

“Dirk,” came Kendra’s voice. “Please tell me you didn’t…”

Dirk grabbed the woman and pushed her away from his face with all his might. Natalya was strong, causing Dirk’s muscle’s to strain as he pushed.

Boom! The toilet exploded, sending porcelain shards everywhere. Dirk managed to hurl the woman off of his face just in time for her to land inside…the jaws of a hungry toilet gator.

“Raarga!”

Skippy Jr. was just a big as his father – fifteen feet long and over a thousand pounds. His sheer bulk pushed Dirk right out of the bathroom, leaving him to land on the floor. As he caught his breath, he could hear Natalya’s blood curdling screams, followed by the sound of bones snapping between a pair of gator jaws.

“That is the absolute last time anyone ever talks me into giving a little mouth to the south!” Dirk declared.

Skippy Jr. waddled out of the bathroom. “Raarga.”

Dirk patted the gator on the head. “That’ll do, gator. That’ll do.”

“Dirk,” Kendra said. “Please don’t tell me you just wasted the one and only tracker you had on a toilet not being used by the Imperial Honcho.”

“OK,” Dirk said. “I will not tell you that.”

A fist pounded on the bedroom door. “This is the Imperial Honcho’s Select Guard! What’s going on?”

“Oh,” Dirk said. “Hey there, fellas. Everything’s fine.”

“We heard strange noises,” the guard said.

“Oh yeah,” Dirk said. “You know me. I can get kind of wild in the sack.”

“We’re coming in,” the guard said.

“What are you going to do now, doofus?” Kendra asked.

“Now?” Dirk asked as he climbed onto Skippy Jr.’s back. “I’m going to improvise.”

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Movie Review – The Belko Experiment (2017)

Blood!  Guts!  Gore!  Mass murder!

BQB here with a review of the totally twisted psychological thriller/horror flick, “The Belko Experiment.”

In Bogota, Columbia, 80 Americans work in a high rise tower owned by the international corporation, “Belko Industries.”  High security cuts the building off from the outside as the employees conduct their business in South America.

One day, completely at random, a scary voice comes over the loudspeakers.  The employees are told they are expected to kill a certain number of their fellow co-workers by a certain time.  Should they fail, even more employees will be killed.  Even worse, actions are taken to assure the employees that this demand is real and not a joke.

As you might expect, chaos reigns supreme as a group of once mild mannered office workers go batshit crazy.  Factions are raised.  Sides are taken.  Lines are drawn and crossed.

Employee Mike Milch (John Gallagher Jr.) takes the noble position that murder is not acceptable under any circumstances, that everyone should just remain calm, refuse to kill anyone, and it will all pass.  He and his followers focus on survival and escape.

Meanwhile, company boss Barry Norris (Tony Goldwyn) takes the utilitarian approach, i.e., it would be better to kill the number of people demanded rather than allow even more people to get killed.  To that end, he creates his own murder squad with his sidekick, the uber creepy Wendell Dukes (John McGinley in his douchiest role yet and that’s saying a lot for a man who has made a career of playing douches.)

Overall, the movie is more than a bit sick and twisted.  There’s gore aplenty and the body counts really rack up, with mass executions being put on full display in which employees are rounded up, herded like cattle and summarily murdered.  It’s definitely one of the scarier, more gruesome horror flicks I’ve seen in a long time.

There’s definitely a disturbing theme throughout.  I mean, how well do you think you know your co-workers?  Sure, that guy who plugs along at work all day and gives you a warm smile when you pass him in the hallway seems nice enough, but do you really have any way of knowing that he wouldn’t hack you to pieces if it ever came down to you or him?

What is a life worth?  Are older people worth less than the young?  Are parents worth more than those without children?  All these questions are asked and more as Norris attempts to come up with the most efficient formula for committing utilitarian murder.

Who is right?  Is Milch right that there is never a circumstance where murder is justified?  Is Norris right that it’s better to kill some in order to save many?

Just how much chaos needs to be introduced into a normally sane environment before everyone goes nuts, picks up whatever implements of destruction they can find and start chasing each other down?

Overall, the film is tight.  It moves fast.  There are many parts that are downright gross and disturbing to say the least.  While we hope that a “Belko Experiment” is never conducted, I have a hunch that this film has, more or less, accurately predicted how a building full of office workers would react if somehow their usually comfortable work environment were to descend into a “Lord of the Flies on Acid” situation.

STATUS:  Shelf-worthy.  Rent it now on demand.

 

 

 

 

 

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Zom Fu – Chapter 64

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The members of the Clan of the Mediocre Yet Effective Club Bonk struggled on the palace steps to hold back the zombie invaders. Several of them had fallen victim to the Clan of the Terrifyingly Unnatural Brain Bite.

Junjie observed the carnage, then looked to the Staff of Ages. The ruby glowed red once more.

“The Staff of Ages has been freed of Dragonhand’s influence,” the Infallible Master said. “It belongs to its true master once again. Wield it freely and it will know exactly what you wish it to do.”

Junjie closed his eyes and raised the staff high into the air. Thunder claps sounded overhead. Multiple bolts of lightning tore through the sky and zapped their way into the staff, until the ancient device began to glow bright white.

Once more, the handsome hero pointed the staff toward the sky and a colossal lighting bolt of unfathomable size lit up the night sky. It pulsated in the heavens, dancing and flickering about until it separated into hundreds of smaller lighting bolts. Each bolt found a different zombie brain to pierce. Soon, every last brain biter in the Forbidden City was destroyed, while the remaining humans survived unscathed.

The clubbers cheered. Junjie cheered. “Master, I can’t believe that….Master?”

The Infallible Master was nowhere to be found, except in Junjie’s mind. “There is no more that I can teach you now, my son. It is time for you to become the master, and time for me to wile away many a year in Diyu.”

“Diyu?” Junjie asked out loud. Those in the handsome hero’s general vicinity might have thought the young man had gone mad had they not seen so many other frightening wonders that day. “I thought you said you would never be able to pass on to the other side.”

“A Master has his ways,” came the Infallible Master inside Junjie’s brain. “The older we get, the more realize what we once thought is impossible is, in fact, quite possible.”

“There’s something you aren’t telling me,” Junjie said.

“Perhaps,” the Infallible Master said. “But the task of rebuilding the devastated kung fu clans is ahead of you now. The last thing you need to do is to worry about me.”

“Wait,” Junjie said. “Will I ever see you again?”

The master’s voice laughed. “Yes. It will seem like an eternity but remember, time is but a trick of the mind. We shall have our reunion one day, if not in the gloomy abyss of Diyu, then surely in the warm embrace of Heaven.”

“Can I talk to you?” Junjie asked.
The master’s voice laughed again. “Oh my son. I spent so much time with my master that I hear him even when he does not speak to me. You will see me and hear me in everything you do, regardless of whether or not we actually speak again.”

“That’s very cryptic,” Junjie said.

“Meh,” the Infallible Master said. “I am a kung fu master. It is what I do.”

“Goodbye, Master,” Junjie said.

“No,” the Infallible Master said. “Not goodbye. Never goodbye. I will see you later.”

A tear streamed down Junjie’s cheek. “I will see you later, Master.”

And with that, the voice inside Junjie’s head was gone.

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Zom Fu – Chapter 63

tabletdemo

Junjie looked to the Infallible Master. “There is no more Bohai, is there?”

“There is not,” the Infallible Master replied. “There is only Rage Dog. Do not make the same mistake I did.”

Rage Dog held up the squirmy bag. “To eat the last brain of an imperial dynasty, to obtain the knowledge that comes with countless generations of leadership…all of China will be mine.”

Junjie picked up one of the golden swords and pointed it at Bohai. “Release the Emperor, monster. Do so now and I will clap you in chains and lock you away where you can’t hurt anyone anymore. I will then spend the rest of my days searching for a cure, for some method of restoring Bohai’s soul to his former body.”

Rage Dog’s eyes traveled to his missing hand, then to the various holes and marks that permeated his body. “What makes you think Bohai would even want it now?”

“You are repeating my mistake, my son,” the Infallible Master warned. “No more negotiations. Finish him.”

Junjie studied Rage Dog’s face. “I know my brother is in there, somewhere…I just can’t…”

Thunk! The tip of General Tsang’s sword pierced its way through Rage Dog’s eyeball. The creature uttered a few last gaps then dropped the bag, only for it to be caught just in time by the general’s hand.

Rage Dog collapsed to the floor. He was no more. Once he was out of the way, the full figure of the general was revealed. The veteran warrior was soaked in the blood and brains of the many zombies he defeated out in the rain.

“You kung fu fighters are a sentimental lot, aren’t you?” General Tsang asked as he looked down at Rage Dog’s corpse. “Good think I didn’t know him that well.”

Ever so gently, the general placed the bag on the floor and opened it up. A very scared little boy popped out and attached himself to his protector like a barnacle on the hull of a ship.

“Tsang!”

“Yes, your majesty,” General Tsang said as he ran his hands through the boy’s hair. “Tsang is here now.”

“Come,” the Infallible Master said to Junjie. “There is more work outside.”

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