Hey 3.5 readers.
VGRF here. I didn’t think to look into it, but it since I’ve been awarded custody of the Bookshelf Battle Blog, I should totally be awarded custody of all of BQB’s book attempts. It’s only fair, right?
Anyway, to that end, I’ll keep posting the Zom Fu chapters that BQB hasn’t gotten around to posting yet.
Zombies! Murder! Mayhem! Sitcom stupidity.
Video Game Rack Fighter here with a review of Netflix’s Santa Clarita Diet. Meanwhile, enjoy your BQB free diet because that nerd will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever write on this blog ever again, ever.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xjRnbOgoAUQ
So, Netflix has taken the iZombie idea of a zombie who can still basically function as a human who speaks normally and Dexter, where the protagonist murders bad people, except here she does it for food.
Drew Barrymore and Timothy Olyphant star as suburban California realtors Joel and Sheila Hammond, just another boring couple living a quiet life with daughter Abby (Liv Hewson) on an idyllic cul-de-sac where all the houses look the same.
In the first episode, Sheila inexplicably dies and yet, does not die. SPOILER ALERT: there’s a lot of vomit involved.
Sheila’s heart beat stops, she can be injured without being hurt, she loses control of her base desires and just wants to have sex with her previously sex deprived husband all the time. Clearly, there’s been a big change.
Rather than, you know, consult a doctor, the family brings in a nerd, creepy next-door neighbor kid Eric (Skyler Gisondo). He diagnoses Sheila as a zombie because, you know, he reads comic books and shit so apparently he’s an expert. It’s all presented tongue in cheek and the audience is winked at to just go with it.
There are parts that are funny and parts that are just gross. I feel sad for Timothy Olyphant. I got so used to watching him play the tough cowboy in Justified that it seems depressing to watch him become the stereotypical pussy sitcom dad, completely impotent and unable to get any respect from his wife or kid and left to write sternly worded letters to the company that failed to design his toaster oven properly.
The main rule that all good writers must follow is, “Show, don’t tell.” Viewers prefer to see things happen rather than be told that things happened and yet, at least in the first episode, we are told that things happened rather than shown that things happened.
I almost wondered if that might be a result of the episodes only being a half hour long. With only a half hour, the show comes across as a zany sitcom. With an hour, the characters could be developed more without the characters just blurting out the details of scenes we missed.
The verdict is still out on this show. The first episode had its ups and downs but it was interesting enough to get me to come back for more.
STATUS: Shelf-worthy, and I hope BQB enjoys spooning with Leo McCoy in the Randomtown Motel because he will never be allowed to Netflix and chill with me in BQB HQ ever again.
Also, as a grammar issue, I think the show should be called, “The Santa Clarita Diet.”
Another cover for another book I have yet to finish writing.
“Oh hey, did you hear about BQB? He ended up in the poorhouse, spent all his dough on book covers for books he never finished writing. What an asshole.”
Oh well, what say you 3.5 readers?
Hey 3.5.
I was just going over Zomcation and there are three chapters that really tickled my funny bone. Hope you will check them out.
While you’re at it, don’t forget to vote in my Zomcation book cover contest.
Chapter 11 – In this book, a Republican and a Democrat have teamed up as President and Vice-President. President Stugotz is a Trump clone while Vice-President Pierce is a Hillary wannabe. They fight and bicker constantly. General Merrick tries his best to remain calm as Stugotz goes to one extreme and demands that all the zombies be nuked while Pierce goes to the other extreme and demands that everyone should coddle the zombies and give them free, government subsidized brains. In the end, they agree on one thing – they’ll deny all culpability and pin it all on Merrick.
Chapter 15 – Mister Reynaldo, an eccentric male diva/ex-off, off, off incredibly off Broadway star informs Jess that she can no longer play Princess Paulina because she turned 30. For Jess, it’s now the Willy Wombat mascot costume or bust.
Chapter 23 – Wombat World Security Guard Doug has a classic, cop TV show fight with the Chief of Wombat World security. It ends with the Chief relieving Doug of his wombat shaped badge and security whistle. Doug must now decide whether to give up or go rogue and search for his partner, who really isn’t his partner, but just an old man he stood next to and annoyed regularly.
Shaoshang sniffed the air. “You reek of fear, whelp.”
Junjie’s hands trembled as he raised his fists.
“Bah ha ha!” The monster guffawed as he slapped his knee. “Oh, Yaozu! What a gaggle of women your clan has become if this is the best you were able to bring me.”
The master turned to Junjie. “Ignore his insults. Pay no mind to his games.”
“Are you going to cry, little girl?” Shaoshang asked.
Junjie looked at the beast with stone faced defiance.
“Why don’t you just step aside?” Shaoshang asked. “Clearly, you are a failure.”
“I’m…” Junjie stopped and gulped. “I’m not.”
“Your master is dead,” Shaoshang said as he paced to and fro, dragging the chain behind him. “Yet you are so weak he must carry you even in death.”
Junjie gritted his teeth. He squeezed his fists tightly, putting so much pressure on his fingers they looked as though they might pop.
The beast grinned. In doing so, he lit up the room with his shiny, dagger-like teeth. “Does your master wipe your nose and your bottom for you too, little one?”
That did it. “Ahhhh!” Junjie shouted a battle cry as he lunged at the monster, only to be repelled back by a flawless kick. The monster took great pride in making his moves seem effortless.
“Will you cry when Dragonhand rules China?” Shaoshang asked. “Will it pain you to your core to know that so many people died because a worthless nothing was called upon to save them?”
Junjie stood up. Without thinking, he sprang to his feet and fired off a kick at the monster. It did not connect. Rather, Shaoshang caught his opponent’s foot and used it to flip Junjie through the air. The hero landed on his backside.
Shaoshang sighed. “This is what you get for taking in orphans, Yaozu. People don’t feed stray dogs and abandoned children for a reason. No one in their right mind wants what others have thrown away.”
Finally, the hero landed a punch. Junjie assailed the monster’s abdomen with rapid fire punches. Shaoshang took seven or eight hits before he swatted his attacker away.
Swoosh! Woosh! Like two sets of sharp knives, Shaoshang’s claws passed over Junjie’s head again and again, coming closer to shredding Junjie into ribbons each time. The chain attached to the creature’s neck clanked loudly across the floor.
Junjie stepped backward. He and Shaoshang eyeballed one another.
“I can’t imagine what a sad disappointment you were to motivate your parents to look at you and say, ‘Eh, we won’t miss much if we rid ourselves of this little shit.’”
Junjie lost control. He ran at the monster. Shaoshang sidestepped the attack, then picked up a length of his chain, twirled it, and wrapped it tightly around Junjie’s neck.
“Yes,” Shaoshang said as he yanked up on the chain. “You want to give up. You want this agony to end. You want to be free of a lifetime of failure.”
Junjie’s face turned red. He slapped at the beast’s claws to no avail.
“Shh,” Shaoshang said. “Let it happen.”
The master stepped in front of Junjie’s face. “Disciple! Your focus must only be on your opponent’s defeat! Nothing else!”
“Erghhhh.” Junjie’s muscles strained as he tugged on Shaoshang’s claws.
“Every opponent has a weakness,” the master said. “Find his!”
Junjie’s face turned purple. He stomped on Shaoshang’s foot. The monster roared in pain. The hero stomped and stomped until Shaoshang let go.
“Gahh!” Junjie gasped for air. He ran forward and turned around. Shaoshang was angry. His body was in motion and he was on a collision course for Junjie.
Shaoshang ran and ran until…CLANK! He reached the end of his chain.
Junjie marveled at the sight before him. The vile demon strained and struggled but the chain prevented him from moving any closer. He took a few swipes, but Junjie easily dodged them.
The hero chuckled.
“And what are you laughing at, whelp?” Shaoshang asked.
Junjie ran into Shaoshang’s space, pummeled the beast, then returned to safety just before…CLANK! The monster was stymied by the chain once more.
“Your weakness,” Junjie said.
“A lucky shot,” Shaoshang said.
Junjie lept into the air and sent a flying kick toward the beast. Shaoshang took three shots to the face before Junjie landed. The hero backflipped out of the monster’s perimeter just in time to avoid a razor claw swipe.
“You’re cheating,” Shaoshang griped. “Just like the First Master of your joke of a clan!”
Junjie backed up…and up….and up…putting plenty of distance between his body and the monster.
“I knew your bitch would give up, Yaozu,” Shaoshang said.
“Wait for it,” the master replied.
Junjie ran toward the beast. Shaoshang’s claws burst into flames as he hurled a barrage of fire balls at his opponent.
The hero gained momentum. He picked up speed. Soon his body became an unstoppable force, one that rammed right into the creature, knocking him off his feet.
Shaoshang attempted to stand, but was pulled back to the ground by his chain. He looked up. Junjie was holding it.
“No,” Shaoshang said.
Junjie nodded his head up and down as if to say, “Yes.”
Out of sheer desperation, Shaoshang reached for his collar and tried to remove it, even though he had not been able to do so in thousands of years. He braced his feet against the ground but was not able to slow Junjie from pulling his catch in.
“Damn it, Yaozu!” Shaoshang cried. “This is not fair!”
The master shrugged his shoulders. “A win is a win.”
Junjie wrapped the chain around Shaoshang’s neck and yanked on it.
“I’m sorry,” Junjie said as he turned his right hand into a tiger claw. “Please forgive me.”
“No!” Shaoshang cried. “No, no, no, no, no!”
Bash! Junjie’s tiger claw tore through the beast’s skull.
“Ugh,” Junjie said as he felt the slimy demon brain in his hand. “Do I really have to, master?”
“I’m afraid so,” the master replied.
Junjie winced as he pulled the brain out. A lengthy section of spinal chord came with it.
“Disgusting,” Junjie said as he turned his nose up at the prize. “It smells awful.”
“Most brains do,” the master said. “Demon brains, more so.”
Junjie held the brain with both hands and stared at it. “I don’t want to go the way of Bohai.”
The master smiled. “You couldn’t if you tried. Eat.”
Ever so gingerly, Junjie pressed his tongue against the brain. He pulled back quickly and dry heaved. “Bleh.”
“You must gain the knowledge, my son,” the master said.
“Well,” Junjie said. “Here goes nothing.”
The hero closed his eyes and brought his teeth down on the demon brain. He bit into it and fought back the urge to vomit. He teared a good sized piece off and let it roll around in his mouth. His eyes watered and his stomach churned as he chewed. Inside his mouth, he could feel every vein, every bit of meat, every drop of blood.
Gulp. It went down.
“I don’t have to eat the whole thing do I?” Junjie asked.
“No,” the master answered. “And that you don’t want to speaks volumes of your character. Do you feel any different?”
Junjie looked at his hands and was taken aback as they burst into flames. He stared at them for awhile, then turned them off with his mind.
“I’m going to say yes,” Junjie replied.
“Good,” the master said. “Light your way back to the tank. From there, I will show you a secret passage to the forest.”
Junjie lit up his hands again. “You’re not coming?”
“I’ve served as Shaoshang’s jailer for a thousand years,” the master said. “There are certain duties I must tend to. Go along. I’ll follow shortly.”
Junjie nodded and headed up the winding staircase.
The master waited alone in silence for awhile until…poof! A giant red ghost popped up beside him.
“You do realize that there were at least four or five times when I could have snapped that boy in half had I wanted to?” Shaoshang asked.
“Excuses, excuses,” the master replied.
“I doubt this Dragonhand fellow will be as accommodating,” Shaoshang said.
“That is none of your concern,” the master said.
“And what of our deal?” Shaoshang asked.
“That is also not a reason for concern,” the master said.
“I didn’t throw a fight just to be cheated, old man,” Shaoshang said. “I’ll sneak your soul into Diyu so that you can begin your penance, but don’t think for a second I’ll let you out of your end of the bargain.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Yaozu said.
“You’ll serve twenty thousand years as my slave and not a day less,” Yaozu said. “You’ll make up for every day I was imprisoned by your pitiful clan.”
The master nodded. “I am a man of my word.”
“Even with the knowledge of my brain, the boy will fail,” Shaoshang said. “Fear drips from his every pore. The smallest slight causes him to doubt himself. Dragonhand will make short work of him.”
“My concern,” the master said. “Not yours.”
“Part of me hopes your whelp fails,” Shaoshang said. “It’ll be fun when the world is crushed under the foot of a dark warrior. Then again, I do so want that warrior to be me. When I’ve paid my debt to the Yama Kings and return to their good graces, I will move on the Dragon Throne. You can thank yourself for setting that in motion.”
“I must take my leave,” the master said.
“You’re not worried?” Shaoshang asked.
“I can only concentrate on one maniac bent on taking the Dragon Throne at a time,” the master said.
“I can’t believe your disciple apologized to me before taking my brain,” Shaoshang said.
“He’s polite,” the master said. “And pure of heart.”
“That’ll get him killed,” Shaoshang said.
“Perhaps,” the master said. “But to be impure of heart is no way to live.”
Zomcation is the best book ever written about an ex-soldier guilted by his depressed, divorced sister, social media addicted niece and hipster nephew into taking a vacation to an amusement park dedicated to a cartoon wombat only to end up fighting hordes of zombies when a Doomsday cult infects the park’s soda supply with a zombifying virus.
I can smell the literary awards now. Mmm. Smells like chicken.
Please vote for your cover here.
And please, really vote. I’m having a hard time making up my mind.
“An iron chain crafted by the First Infallible Master and fortified by the magic of the Staff of Ages,” the master said. “It has kept this beast in line for countless millennia.”
“Even worse,” Shaoshang said as he drummed his claws against the loops that dangled down from his neck. “It clashes with everything. I can’t do a thing with it.”
The monster paced back and forth, dragging the chain along the floor as it moved. The length continued to a plate in the wall, secured with two heavy screws.
“You’re looking well,” the master said.
Shaoshang flashed a toothy grin. “Looks have always been my strong suit, old man. Patience, on the other hand, not so much. Why do you waste my time?”
“Does it matter that much to you?” the master asked. “You have so much of it, after all.”
“Yes,” Shaoshang said. “But when you came in, you wrested me out of a splendid slumber. Oh, I was having the most magnificent dream.”
“It brought you joy, I presume?” the master asked.
“Oh yes,” Shaoshang said as he paced about. “You were there, burning alive, although I guess that’s out of the question. My word, Yaozu, if this Dragonhand fellow really got the best of you then I would very much like to shake his hand.”
“The two of you would get along well,” the master said.
“Anyway,” Shaoshang said. “Before I was so rudely interrupted, in my dream I was free and sitting upon the Dragon Throne. It was soaked in the blood of my enemies, many of which were either charred to cinders or separated from their heads. Oh how I enjoy putting heads on pikes.”
The beast reached out his hand and lightly traced a claw down the side of Junjie’s cheek. The hero winced.
“Speaking of heads,” Shaoshang said. “What a lovely ripe squash you have there.”
“Know your place, creature,” the master said.
“Come now, jailer,” Shaoshang said. “Surely there’s no harm in a little fun.”
“There is in your version of fun,” the master said.
A hot puff of steam popped out of Shaoshang’s nose. The monster’s nostrils flared and his eyes grew brighter as he shouted, “Then why have you disturbed me?!”
Junjie’s heart pounded.
“We need your brain,” the master said.
Shaoshang stepped back. “My…brain?”
“You’re not using it for anything productive,” the master said. “Give it to my disciple.”
“Yaozu you crazy old fool,” Shaoshang said. “Surely you jest.”
“No,” the master said.
“You really thought you and this pup would walk right into my prison and walk out with my brain?” Shaoshang asked.
“Why not?” the master asked. “It will bring you nothing but torment and misery for as long as you are trapped down here. You will dwell on your past. You will think about what you have missed out on, would could have been or should have been. You will yearn to be free but as long as that chain remains around your neck, you never will be. Many years from now, the bones of everyone alive today will be dust, as will be the bones of their children and children’s children. All will have moved on. You will still be here…alone.”
“Hmm,” Shaoshang said. “When you put it like that…”
“My disciple will soon challenge a gruesome foe,” the master said. “Dragonhand has consumed the brain of every kung fu master, including mine.”
“All fat and gristle I’d wager,” Shaoshang said.
“You have lived a long time,” the master said.
“Too long,” Shaoshang lamented.
“In your long life, you also mastered every devastating move in kung fu,” the master said.
“I had to do something with my time and masturbation grew old after the first thousand years,” Shaoshang said.
“Give my disciple your brain,” the master said. “He will grow strong with your knowledge. Meanwhile, you will die and return to Diyu.”
“Not exactly a selling point, old man,” Shaoshang said. “I don’t miss that heat. Or the torture. Another demon can take a turn pushing boulders and getting poked in the ass with a sharp stick, thank you very much.”
“You escaped before,” the master said. “You could do it again.”
Shaoshang stroked his chin. “Odd. You’d risk giving me another chance to take the Dragon Throne?”
“I know you can be defeated,” the master said. “It’s Dragonhand that I am not sure about.”
“Pbbbht,” Shaoshang said as he blew a raspberry. “As if this ‘Dragonhand’ could ever compare to me.”
“Maybe he can,” the master said. “Maybe he can’t. You’ll never know when you’re rotting away down here while he sits on the Dragon Throne, will you?”
Shaoshang snorted. “Damn you, Yaozu.”
“The same throne you have coveted for so long,” the master said.
“Damn you, Yaozu!” the beast repeated, louder this time.
“Think quickly,” the master said. “You have a chance to die and escape this imprisonment. Refuse and another offer will never be made again.”
“Bah,” Shaoshang grumbled.
“You will remain in captivity until the world crumbles and begins again anew,” the master said.
Shaoshang nodded. “You’ve talked me into it.”
“Good,” the master said. “Now hold still while my disciple claws out your brain.”
“Not so fast,” Shaoshang said. “Did you really think I’d give up my thinker without a fight?”
“I hoped so,” the master said. “If you win, you’ll remain in this hole forever.”
“Ahh,” Shaoshang said. “But if I win, I will have defeated an Infallible Master. That juicy victory will nourish me until the end of time.”
“Very well,” the master said. “My disciple will fight you.”
“Wait,” Junjie said. “What?”
“You will fight this vile demon and devour his brain,” the master said.
“Ahem,” Junjie said as he coughed into his hand. “Master, a word?”
“Excuse us,” the master said as he and Junjie walked into the darkness.
“Oh don’t worry about me,” Shaoshang said. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Master,” Junjie said once he was away from the monster. “You didn’t think I was able to defeat Dragonhand, but now you think I stand a chance against that…thing?”
“He is chained,” the master said. “He is at a great disadvantage.”
Junjie paused for a moment before continuing. “And you’d have me eat his brain? Won’t that turn me into a brain fiend?”
“It is possible,” the master said. “But I do believe you are one of a handful of people in the world who are able to eat a brain and not succumb to temptation. The Staff of Ages would not have chosen you otherwise.”
Shaoshang’s voice traveled into the darkness. “What’s it going to be?”
“You’ll need his strength if you are to get Mei-Ling back,” the master said.
Junjie exhaled. “Fine.”
The Infallible Master reunited with Junjie and led his disciple into the deepest, darkest reaches of the forest, a place where the trees grew so tall and lush that they barely allowed any sunlight to peak through their leaves.
“There,” the master said as he pointed to a stone.
“We’ve come for a rock?” Junjie asked.
“For what is under the rock,” the master replied.
Junjie picked up the rock and cast it aside. “What now?”
A hole in the earth opened up and Junjie immediately plummeted down into a vast cavern of nothingness. “Gahhhh!”
The master floated steadily downward next to Junjie, but remained calm. As for Junjie? Not so much.
“Ahhhhhhh!” Junjie cried. “Ahhhhhhh! Ahhhhhhh!”
“Take a deep breath, my son,” the master said.
Junjie did so, then exhaled. He looked down. There was no end in sight. He looked back at the master. “Ahhhh!”
“You’ll want to take another deep breath now,” the master said. “And hold it…”
Sploosh! The cavern ended in a tank of water and Junjie had no choice but to barrel right into it. The hero swam downward, squinting just enough to catch a feint glimpse of the master.
The old man pointed to the bottom of the tank, where the tiger claw clan’s insignia was etched. Junjie pressed the design, causing three holes to open up. The water rushed out. As soon as the tank was drained, Junjie fell back onto the floor and caught his breath.
“A warning might have been in order,” Junjie said.
“Would you have come if I had given you one?” the master asked.
“Probably not,” Junjie answered.
A loud, deafening voice echoed up from underneath the tank.
“Who is the lowly, insignificant pig who dares wake me from my slumber by pouring water on me?”
Junjie blinked in a dumbfounded manner.
“Something else I would not have come for had I been warned about it?” Junjie asked.
“Yes,” the master replied.
The master stepped into the hole and fell a few feet before landing on a concrete slab. Though it was pitch black, Junjie trusted the master and followed.
“Or, to put it more precisely…”
“Rargh!” the voice shouted. “Yaozu, is that you?”
“…someone.”
The master led Junjie down a winding staircase.
“It is I,” the master said.
“Brought your whelp with you, have you?” the voice asked.
“My disciple,” the master said. “And the Twentieth Infallible Master of the Clan of the Sacred Yet Inscrutable Tiger Claw.”
“Ooo!” the voice said in a mocking tone. “How impressive. Has there really been twenty of you buffoons already?”
“Time flies,” the master said.
“Bah,” the voice said. “Time drags.”
Junjie descended slowly, feeling out each step in the darkness, fearful that he might fall at any moment.
“Might we trouble you for a light?” the master asked.
A brief pause. “Sure. Why don’t I just cook you a feast and throw you a party while I’m at it?”
The master chuckled. “Just the light will do.”
A fireball rose out of the dark depths and found the two travelers. It followed them and lit the way as they descended the staircase.
“Who is this man?” Junjie asked.
“He is no man,” the master replied. “He is a demon.”
“Don’t be rude, Yaozu,” the voice said. “Introduce me, already. You may call me Shaoshang, boy. And you are?”
Startled, Junjie stammered out his reply. “Jah-jah-Junjie.”
“Jah-jah-Junjie?” Shaoshang asked. “Stupidest name I’ve ever heard.”
“It’s just Junjie,” Junjie said.
“Ignore his tricks,” the master said. “He will play with your mind.”
“Oh,” Shaoshang said. “‘Just Junjie’ is it? You’ll forgive me if I grow just a might impatient with your intrusion, seeing as I how I’ve been locked up down here as a falsely accused political prisoner since…since…how long has it been? I lost count after the twenty thousandth year.”
Junjie and the master continued down the winding staircase. The fireball hovered overhead.
“Many, many years ago,” the master said. “When the world was new, Shaoshang escaped from Diyu and sought to reign supreme over Earth. The First Infallible Master, the greatest warrior our clan has ever known, defeated him.”
“A lousy cheater if you ask me,” Shaoshang said.
“No one asked you,” the master said before returning his attention to his student. “Our clan’s founder was fierce but kind. He pitied his opponent so instead of killing him, he chained him up in this pit.”
“Bah,” Shaoshang said. “Wish he had killed me, even just for the change of scenery.”
“It has been the duty of every Infallible Master ever since to act as Shaoshang’s jailer,” the master said. “I would have told you about this task sooner, had Dragonhand not intervened.”
“I swear, Yaozu,” Shaoshang said. “You are like an old woman. Stop mothering the boy and bring him to me already.”
“My son?” the master asked.
“Yes?” Junjie answered.
The duo reached the last step. They walked out onto a brick floor. They pressed onward for a while until they spotted a pair of glowing eyes.
“Remember that warning you’ve been asking for?” the master asked.
The fireball zoomed through the air and landed in Shaoshang’s clutches. It grew larger and brighter until it illuminated the beast.
“Consider yourself warned,” the master said.
Junjie’s stepped back and looked up to find himself staring at a ten foot tall devil. Shaoshang’s face was blood red with streaks of blue and black throughout. A pair of ram’s horns twisted and curled their way out of his head. His red body was lean and muscular. His claws and teeth were razor sharp.
“Well now,” Shaoshang said as he stepped forward, only to be snapped back by a chain attached to an iron collar around his neck. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Niu walked…and walked…and walked. Twenty miles later, the big man grew weary. He sat underneath a tree, closed his eyes and started to doze off. Soon, there was a rustling sound coming from the forest.
The fatalist perked up and looked around. He observed tree leaves rustling and bushes shaking on both sides of the road.
“Who’s there?” Niu asked as he stood up and walked to the center of the road. “Show yourself!”
“Attack!” cried the Whirlwind as he brandished his club and charged at Niu. Two of the Whirlwind’s associates rushed into the road from the left side. Two more came from the right side.
Niu was surrounded. Each attacker wielded a heavy wooden club. The big man ducked and dodged with perfect timing, and returned poorly executed club swings with kicks and punches that actually connected.
Two assailants on opposite sides of the street ran toward their target. Niu stepped out of the way and the attackers slammed into each other with great comedic effect.
“Who are you people?” Niu asked.
“What?” the Whirlwind asked. “Surely, you jest.”
“I am not known for my sense of humor,” Niu said as he took out a third attacker with a well placed, heavy handed slap.
“We are the Clan of the Mediocre Yet Effective Club Bonk!” the Whirlwind said. “And I am the Whirlwind! You will bow down before my special brand of kung fu!”
Niu raised an eyebrow. He kicked the fourth attacker in the face, delivering an instant knockout. He then looked at the Whirlwind.
“You call what you are doing here ‘kung fu?’” Niu asked.
“We call it ‘club fu,’” the Whirlwind said.
Niu and the Whirlwind stared each other down as they paced back and forth.
“You can’t just hit someone over the head with a big wooden stick and call it kung fu,” Niu said.
“Why not?” the Whirlwind asked. “Who are you to say what is and is not kung fu?”
Niu sneered at the Whirlwind. “As a matter of fact, I’m…”
“Enough talk!” the Whirlwind shouted as he ran towards Niu.
Niu yawned, then stretched out the palm of his large hand. The Whirlwind ran into the palm face first. The big man’s arm created a distance so vast that the Whirlwind was not able to get anywhere near his target, but that did not stop him from flailing about wildly.
“Prepare to reap me!” the Whirlwind yelled.
“Prepare to…what?” Niu asked. “Did you just tell me to ‘rape you?’”
“What?” the Whirlwind asked as he tried to extricate his head from Niu’s grip to no avail. “No! Reap! You’re going to reap me!”
“Why would I do that?” Niu asked.
“Because I am the Whirlwind!” the Whirlwind said. “Your trespass into my territory will cause you to reap me!”
Niu sighed. “If you have to explain it, it’s not very catchy.”
The Whirlwind flailed…and flailed…and flailed. Eventually, he caught a glimpse of the tiger claw symbol on Niu’s robe. Upon seeing it, he stopped moving altogether.
Sensing his opponent was backing down, Niu released the Whirlwind.
“You are a member of the Clan of the Sacred Yet Inscrutable Tiger Claw?” the Whirlwind asked.
“Yes,” Niu replied.
The Whirlwind threw himself to the ground and kowtowed in Niu’s direction.
“I humbly beg your forgiveness and pledge my club to you,” the Whirlwind said.
Niu rolled his eyes and looked to the sky. “Master, please tell me this is not the kung fu clan you wished me to seek out.”
Poof! The Master materialized out of thin air. “It is.”
The Whirlwind looked at the ghost before him and rubbed his eyes. “Am I really seeing this?”
“These men are useless,” Niu said.
“They are all we have,” the master replied. “And you must train them to retake the Forbidden City after it falls to Dragonhand.”
“An impossible task,” Niu said.
“Impossible for anyone but a scholar with your tremendous sense of patience, my son,” the master said.
Poof! The master disappeared.
“Seriously,” the Whirlwind said. “Was that real?”
“It was,” Niu said.
“Good,” the Whirlwind said. “Between you and I, I’ve been known to partake of the forest’s special mushrooms and I thought I might have overdone it.”
Cling, clang! Cling, clang!
“Bring out your taxes!”
Tax collector Peng rang a bell as he drove a horse drawn wagon into the center of a remote village. From the looks of the dilapidated homes, the downtrodden villagers didn’t have much to give.
Three armor clad guards sat in the back of the wagon, keeping a watch on a bountiful haul. The tax man had been making collections throughout the countryside all day, and though few individuals had much to give, their contributions had added up significantly.
Barrels filled with gold, silver and sparkly gems. Bags of wheat, rice and grain. Candlesticks, trinkets, priceless family heirlooms.
Peng rang the bell again. “Time to pay your taxes!”
An old woman hobbled out of her house and waved her cane at the collector. “Robber! Thief! Villain! You already collected twice last week!”
“The Emperor may collect as early and often as he wishes,” Peng replied. “Shut your mouth and know your place, crone!”
The old gal tossed her last gold coin at the collector. He caught it.
“I hope you choke on it,” the old lady said as she walked back into her house.
The villagers poured out of their homes and formed an orderly line, waiting patiently for Peng to accept their goods.
“Ahh, very nice,” Peng said as a middle aged farmer turned over a bag of wheat.
The collector moved down the line, accepting all manner of riches until he stopped in front of three villagers who were covered head to toe in hooded robes.
“You dare hide your faces in front of your better?” Peng asked.
The hoods dropped. The men opened the robes to reveal they were holding giant wooden clubs.
Bonk…bonk…bonk…bonk! The attackers worked fast, clubbing the daylights out of Peng and his guards, knocking them out and sending them to the ground.
One of the attackers was a young man with long hair pulled back behind his head in a bun and a pencil thin mustache. “You’ve just reaped the Whirlwind,” he said to an unconscious Peng.
The Whirlwind looked to his men. “Return the goods. Don’t forget to take our fee.”
Bookshelf Battle 