By: Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire
They may look cute, small, furry and adorable but in reality, all bunny rabbits are ninjas.
Always keep a bunny rabbit in your house and he will protect you from vampires.
Bookshelf Battle
The only site where new bestsellers are forced to do battle for space on a nerd's bookshelf.
Tag Archives: horror
The Walking Dead – Who did Neegan kill?
The Walking Dead returns soon, 3.5 readers.
If you recall, at the end of the last season, Neegan was about to give one of our intrepid heroes a vigorous baseball bat beating.
One can only assume we’ll find out who got struck out in the new season, though you never know, there might be an unexpected plot twist.
My theory:
It is unlikely that a female character will buy the farm in such a gruesome way on TV.
It is unlikely a main featured character will croak.
Thus, you can rule a lot of people out.
Keeping in mind they’ll want to maximize the impact by killing off someone the viewers have bonded with yet the show can continue without and I think that comes down to Eugene or Abraham.
I’m going to guess it is Eugene. He’s the underdog. The cowardly geek who did everyone wrong by lying about a cure yet ironically did them good by tricking them to seek safety.
We like to think we’d be awesome like Rick in the face of a zompoc but in reality, many of us would be a Eugene.
If they do go with a main character? Glenn. He’s shown tremendous growth over the series, going from young adult to man, but the show can go on whereas people would freak out if they los Rick, Michonne, or Daryl.
What say you, 3.5 readers?
What are your theories?
Zomcation – Chapter 25
The Wombat World control room featured row after row of computer units, stacked neatly on steel shelves, all connected to a bank of monitors hanging on a wall in the back of the room.
Craig, a white man with blonde dreadlocks and a grungy beard, toked on a fat spliff as he put his feet up on his workstation and closed his eyes.
“Clock that grip bitch,” Craig sang. “Oh, you gotta clock that grip bitch. You down with Stank Daddy, Ron?”
Ron, Craig’s straight laced colleague, was all business. His head was shaved bald and he wore a pressed white shirt with a red power tie as he watched the monitors intently.
“I wish you’d be down with your job,” Ron replied.
“Please,” Craig said. “This whole operation practically runs itself.”
Ron flashed Craig a look of utter disgust. “Millions of dollars worth of complex machinery and thousands of lives are in our hands. How you can be so blasé about that I’ll never know.”
“You do those people no good when you’re stressed out of your gourd, Ron,” Craig said as he offered his coworker a hit of his ganja.
“No thanks,” Ron said. “Something tells me that Carruthers Brothers Amalgamated Studios wouldn’t take kindly to their ride technicians being baked.”
Craig sat up and started flipping through the camera feeds. “Look. Berserkasphere? Running. Dinosaur Puncher? One hundred percent. Infernacoaster? Fabulous. Shock Rocket? Awesome. Happy Little International Children Experience? Great. I don’t know why the hell anyone rides that shit ride anyway but its firing on all four cylinders. Will you unclench your butt cheeks and hit this shit already?”
Ron rolled his eyes and took the joint. “Oh why the hell not?”
Just as Ron lifted that sweet refer to his lips and was about to take a drag, a fist rapped on the metal security door that led into the room.
Craig put the door’s camera feed up on screen. Though the person at the door appeared to be an average, run of the mill Wombat World Security Guard, it was, in fact, Brother Klaus in Earl’s uniform.
“Shit,” Ron said as he stubbed out Craig’s joint into his trash can.
“Aw come on, man!” Craig protested. “That was my best Bolivian Brain Crush!”
Ron pressed a button on his board, turning on the intercom. “Can I help you?”
“Inspection,” Brother Klaus said in an American accent.
Ron and Craig looked at each other. “Did you know anything about an inspection?” Ron asked.
“Do you think I’d be dumb enough to be sparking up a doob if I knew there was an inspection?” Craig answered.
“I do,” Ron said. “You definitely look that dumb.”
Ron pressed the intercom button once more. “No one told us anything about an inspection.”
Brother Klaus coughed in order to clear his throat. In his mind, he weighed the various phony responses he could give to Ron until he finally settled on, “It wouldn’t be a surprise inspection if anyone had told you about it, now would it?”
“Shit,” Craig said. “He’s got you there.”
“Damn it,” Ron said. “Just be cool and let me do the talking.”
Ron hit another button. The door buzzed as Brother Klaus stepped in.
“Hello,” Ron said.
Brother Klaus looked around the room, ignoring the two technicians.
“Are you new?” Ron asked. “Don’t believe we’ve met before.”
The faux security guard sniffed the air. “Strange odor in the air.”
“What’s that now?” Ron asked.
“An odor,” Brother Klaus said as he sniffed. “A peculiar, pungent smell.”
Ron trembled. “I don’t smell anything. Craig, do you smell anything?”
“I don’t smell anything at all,” Craig replied. “I think your nostrils are lying to you, man.”
Brother Klaus sniffed the air again. “No. I definitely detect the distinct scent of marijuana in this room. I’m sure of it.”
“Shit,” Craig said. “Since when do you guys do detective work? I thought you all just stood around drinking coffee and handing out wombat stickers all day.”
“Aww,” Brother Klaus said. “So you admit it?”
Ron gulped. “Look. It was just one joint. We’ve both been loyal employees for years.”
“I didn’t even smoke it!” Craig said. “It was Ron! It was all Ron!”
“Craig, you weapons grade asshole,” Ron said before turning his attention back to the fake guard. “It was all him. He smoked it. All I did was put it out.”
“You were going to puff it,” Craig said. “You know it.”
“Boys, boys, boys,” Brother Klaus said as he stepped behind a bank of computers. “This is a very serious offense.”
“Son of a bitch,” Ron said. “We’re going to lose our jobs. Thanks Craig. Thanks a lot.”
“Man,” Craig said. “Do you really need to report this?”
“Yeah,” Ron said. “Surely we could reach an agreement? Perhaps a certain amount of cash falls out of our pockets by accident and then very coincidentally, you forget all about this at the same exact time you pick it up?”
Silence.
“One of us will suck your dick,” Craig said.
“What?” Ron asked.
“Ron will totally suck your dick,” Craig said. “He just volunteered.”
“I did not,” Ron said as he looked at the computer bank the fake guard was standing behind. “Hey, honestly, this isn’t that big a deal right? I mean, what could the punishment for smoking a joint on the job be anyway?”
Brother Klaus stepped out with his silenced pistol drawn. He fired two bullets into Craig’s cranium, killing the hipster pothead instantly. He then pointed his weapon at the last technician standing.
“Whoa,” Ron said as he put his hands up. “OK, you made your point. Wombat World Security isn’t screwing around anymore. But come on…”
Thunk. Thunk.
Brother Klaus stepped over Ron’s body, took a seat at the dead man’s workstation, and punched away at the keyboard. The security door locked.
Soon, the Heretic’s hooded face appeared on one of the monitors on the wall.
“Herr Heretic,” Brother Klaus said, now in his default German accent. “We are now in control.”
“Excellent,” the Heretic replied.
#31ZombieAuthors Rewind – Day 19 – Eric A. Shelman – It’s Never Too Late
With Your Host: Schecky Blargfeld, Zombie Comedian
Eric Shelman spent a long time getting his writing career off the ground.
He wrote. He shelved his work. Finally, he saw other writers doing well by utilizing the Internet and boom, he was in business.
Last year, BQB talked to Eric about zombies and the world of self-publishing.
And don’t forget to check out Eric’s Dead Hunger series on Amazon.
#31WaystoDefeatAVampire – Way 19 – Your Vacation Photos
By: Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire
Bleh! No, 3.5 readers!
No one cares that you went to Bora Bora or Cancun or your Cousin Fred’s farm. Your vacation was awful and boring. Just admit it.
Vampires do not want to see that shit. That’s why we don’t follow you on Vampbook anymore.
Zomcation – Chapter 24
The Happy Little International Children Experience began as a slow, leisurely boat ride through a long, dark tunnel adorned with bright, twinkling, multi-colored lights. The boats weren’t so much floating as they were being pulled via an elaborate underwater conveyor system, but the effect was just the same.
Abby sat and sipped on her convenience store soda, her mind conjuring up images from her youth, a happier time when her parents and her brother rode the ride with her, but not because they particularly enjoyed it.
Hell, no one but Abby ever has or ever likely will enjoy the Happy Little International Children Experience. It has been routinely voted most annoying ride for thirty straight years by the readers of Theme Park Enthusiast Digest.
But Abby’s mother, father and brother rode it because they knew she loved it and it was that love that she was missing so much as she looked around the illuminated tunnel.
An old woman in a gray sweater sat to Abby’s left, clutching a set of rosary beads in her hand. Abby hadn’t noticed it before but as she looked back, the whole boat she was in was filled with kids ranging between ten and sixteen years old. The unkempt urchins wore tattered clothes and chatted amongst themselves.
“Ma’am,” Abby said.
“Yes, dear?” the old woman replied in an Irish brogue.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” Abby said. “But are you a nun?”
“That I am, child,” the old woman said. “Sister Eugenia of the Order of Our Lady of the Immaculate Cast Iron Undergarments.”
Abby appeared in doubt. “Seriously?”
“Oh,” Sister Eugenia said with a chuckle. “Its been years since they’ve made us wear anything like that.”
Abby pointed her thumb toward the back of the boat. “Are they all with you?”
“Yes,” Sister Eugenia said. “For the past decade I’ve been assigned to the order’s home for wayward orphans right here in Florida.”
Abby watched the kids. “You mean none of these kids have parents?”
“Sadly no,” Sister Eugenia said. “All of their parents have died under the most horrific circumstances, lost to the drink or the drugs, car accidents, heroin overdoses, so many folks out there just love to chase that dragon, don’t you know?”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Abby said.
“And then there are the mothers who sell their bodies on the street corner only catch an exotic venereal disease or to end up sliced and diced by depraved maniacs,” Sister Eugenia said. “Or the fathers who join street gangs and end up riddled with so many bullet holes that they end up looking like Swiss cheese.”
“I see,” Abby said.
“Don’t even get me started on the parents who sniff magic markers,” Sister Eugenia said.
“I won’t,” Abby said.
“So many lovely children end up orphaned because their parents were uncontrollable magic marker fume addicts, completely incapable of stopping themselves from shoving magic markers up their nostrils in order to sniff the devil’s aroma.”
“That’s terrible,” Abby said.
“Then I suppose once in awhile there’s a father with a strange sexual addiction…”
“I get the picture,” Abby said.
“They can’t get their rocks off unless they’re being strangled,” Sister Eugenia said. “Or if they’re wearing a leather gimp mask. Or if they’re having dangerously bizarre foreign objects shoved up their rectums and its all fun and games until somehow it all goes tragically wrong and…”
“Sister,” Abby said. “I get it. These kids have been through bad times.”
“They surely have, dear,” Sister Eugenia said.
“They seem well-behaved,” Abby said.
“Oh that’s just because this is our yearly excursion outside the orphanage’s walls and I’ve warned them that if I hear a peep out of any of them we’ll all go straight home,” Sister Eugenia said. “Harsh, I know, but you must never show weakness around children, dear.”
“I’m starting to realize that,” Abby said. “I have two of my own.”
“Where are they?” Sister Eugenia asked.
“Doing their own thing,” Abby said. “They want nothing to do with me these days.”
“Ahh,” Sister Eugenia said. “Don’t feel bad. It happens to every parent sooner or later.”
“All they do is complain, complain, complain,” Abby said. “It’s always, ‘me, me, me’ with those two.”
“Well, what do you expect, dear?” Sister Eugenia asked. “Weren’t you like that when you were their age?”
Abby sighed. “I suppose.”
“Every child deserves a parent’s unconditional love,” the sister said. “Once they’re old enough to realize that the world doesn’t revolve around them they’ll return it to you in spades, don’t you worry.”
“I’d just settle for being appreciated,” Abby said.
“Wouldn’t we all, dear?” Sister Eugenia asked. “Wouldn’t we all?”
Sister Eugenia balled up her fist and expelled a burp into it.
“Pardon me, dear.”
“It happens,” Abby said.
“The order was kind enough to give me a budget large enough to take the children to lunch at the wombat food court and I’m afraid Funky Cola does not sit well with me at all.”
Zomcation – Chapter 23
The Chief was shaped like a walrus, with the mustache to boot. He turned down the volume on his daytime television, then swiveled around in his chair in order to give Doug a vigorous dressing down.
“You’ve been a real thorn in my side ever since you joined the force, Crocker.”
Doug, who was seated on the opposite side of his boss’s desk, flipped up his clip-on shades. “You call this ‘the force?’”
“The Wombat World Security Team is the finest organization of officers in the entire amusement park industry,” the Chief said. “We make those suck bags keeping an eye on Kippy’s Kangatropolis look like a bunch of pukes and I will not have you sullying our good name.”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” Doug said.
Wam! The Chief banged his fist down on his desk, causing bundles of papers and empty coffee cups to scatter everywhere. “Goddamn it, Crocker! You’re a loose cannon!”
Doug stood up and leaned over the desk. “What would you know about it?! I’m out there every day, day in, day out, putting my ass on the line while you’re in here, polishing your brass and waxing your chair with your ass, pretending like all the busy work you do means something just to justify your miserable bureaucratic existence!”
The Chief leaned over and glared angrily at his subordinate. The two men leered and snarled at one another. There was less than an inch between their faces.
“Your one and only job here is to observe and report, shit for brains!” the Chief shouted. “You think you got a real big swinging dick whenever you do all this cowboy shit Crocker but I swear to God one of these days you’re going to get someone killed and then its going to be all our asses on the line!”
“Aww,” Doug said as he flipped his clip-on shades down. “If you can’t stand the heat then get out of the kitchen baby because this chef is cooking with gas.”
The Chief opened up a heavy, paper stuffed folder with Doug’s name printed on the side. “Hassling old ladies…hassling children…hassling park guests of every kind…”
“Rule breakers, Chief,” Doug said. “The whole lot of ‘em. Get your head out of your ass and get my back, man. Don’t you realize we’re the last line of defense between order and chaos in this park?”
“Did you stop a little girl this morning?” the Chief asked.
“Her pie hole was filled with a giant wad of Bubblelicious,” Doug said. “She sticks it on one of the antique Willy Wombat statues or leaves it on somebody’s seat and bam, pow! The whole park gets flushed down the shitter.”
“Her mother ripped my head off over that,” the Chief said as he flipped through the pages in the folder. “You have truly been a giant, festering, puss filled boil on my ass for as long as I’ve known you, Crocker, but I’ve finally got you know. You’ve finally written a check so large that your ass can’t cash it.”
“Bullshit!” Doug said. “I’m a duly designated officer of cartoon based theme park law!”
The Chief foamed at the mouth. “Did you get a gift shop trashed?”
Doug looked away from his boss. “I don’t know anything about it.”
The Chief pounded his fist down on his desk, then pointed at Doug. “Damn it! Don’t you lie to me! I am the Almighty God of Hellfire and I can rain down more furious vengeance upon you than you could possibly imagine! Did you get a gift shop trashed?”
Doug shook his head. “Step off my jock, Jack. Its longer than you can handle and you’re going to trip over if if you aren’t careful.”
The Chief’s nostril’s flared. “Did you get a gift shop trashed?”
Doug folded his arms. “You won’t get nothing out of me.”
The Chief inhaled a deep breath, exhaled, then roared, “Did you get a gift shop trashed?”
Doug caved. “You’re goddamn right I got a gift shop trashed!”
“I knew it,” the Chief said. “Thousands of dollars worth of damage. Hundreds of toys missing. Countless employees traumatized. ”
“You have the audacity to charge me with keeping this park safe and then question the way I do it?” Doug said. “Oh look at you, you hypocritical son of a bitch. You sit in here all high and mighty in your fancy office with your female talk shows and your exotic coffees and you like to think you’re better than I am, but deep down we both know that you want a man like me out there in the shit, you need a man like me out there in the shit, this park could not operate for a single second without me out there in the shit.”
“You’re on thin ice, Crocker,” the Chief said. “And you’re talking like a man wearing a pair of razor sharp ice skates. You know its wrong to get company property destroyed, just admit it.”
“I admit nothing,” Doug said. “ Jessica Flynn was stuffed into a Willy Wombat costume without a single second of training and thrown to those tiny wolves. She was one more kick from a toddler’s shoe away from being done. Over. Finished. Kaput. She’d of been a goner if I hadn’t done something but instead of thanking me and putting a nice letter in my file you want to mount my ass on your wall just to make your corporate overlords happy.”
“I’ve had enough of that insubordinate lip, Crocker,” the Chief said as he held out his hand. “Turn over your whistle.”
Doug’s face turned white. “What?”
“You’re suspended,” the Chief said. “Two weeks without pay.”
“Aw come on,” Doug said.
“You want to try for three?”
Doug took the whistle that was hanging around his neck off and slapped it down in the Chief’s hand.
“And your badge,” the Chief said.
A tear trickled out of Doug’s eye as he looked down at the shiny silver wombat shaped badge pinned to his chest. “Come on, Chief.”
“You’re a disgrace to this poorly paid private security organization,” the Chief said. “I won’t have you wearing our revered symbol a on your worthless chest a second longer.”
The Chief reached over the desk and ripped the badge right off of Doug’s shirt, leaving a hole in the fabric behind.
Doug’s face shriveled up. It was as if a piece of his soul was ripped away with that wombat shaped badge.
“Go straight to your car,” the Chief said. “Go home and think long and hard about what you have done.”
“Chief,” Doug said. “My partner’s out there.”
“He’s not your partner,” the Chief said.
“Earl is the best and also only officer I’ve ever worked with that didn’t request a transfer to get away from me,” Doug said. “And he’s not answering his radio.”
“I’m sure he’s fine, Crocker,” the Chief said. “Besides, its not your problem anymore. Get the hell outta here or I’ll call the actual cops and have them throw you out.”
Doug got up and walked away while muttering, “We’ll see about that.”
#31WaysToDefeatAVampire – Way #18 – Ukulele Music
By: Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire
Honestly, 3.5 readers.
What is a ukulele?
Bleh! Is it a real instrument? Is it more than just a tiny, shrunken guitar? How do you play one of those things?
Vampires are not into ukuleles at all. We will never attend your luau.
#31ZombieAuthors Rewind – Day 18 – Deirdre Gould – Maine Prepping and Self-Publishing
With Your Guest Host: Schecky Blargfeld, Zombie Comedian
Hello again, 3.5 readers.
Fancy meeting you here on a blog that is read by only 3.5 people.
Suppose you were turned into a zombie and then….you were cured!
Happy day!
But wait. Now you have to come to terms with all those brains you ate.
What happens after a zombie apocalypse?
BQB asked Deirdre Gould about that last year.
Check out that interview here.
And don’t forget to check out The 40th Day, the latest book in the After the Cure series on Amazon.
Top Ten Halloween Costume Ideas
You can’t trick or treat without a dope costume, 3.5 readers, so without further ado, from the home office in East Randomtown, it’s BQB’s Top Ten Halloween Costume Ideas:
#10 – Are you fat and balding? Cool. Grow a mustache, throw on a red sweater and boom, you’re Ken Bone.
#9 – Slap a goatee on your chin. Boom. Evil You. Already have a goatee? Shave it off. Good You. (FYI what most people think of as a goatee is actually a Van Dyke.)
#8 – Dress like Count Krakovich and go as an Asshat Vampire.
#7 – Put on a flannel shirt and you’re either a lumberjack or a 1990s alt rocker.
#6 – Get an adult “Sexy” costume from your local seasonal Halloween costume store. Sexy vampire. Sexy werewolf. Sexy Frankenstein. Sexy ghost. Sexy corn. Sexy unicorn. Sexy dog. Sexy cat. Sexy giraffe. Really, its just the costume and then they make it so it shows a lot of cleavage and booty. I’ve heard they even have a Sexy Ken Bone.
#5 – Go as a politician. Just show up at the party, demand a donation, give a half-hearted apology speech for all your epic failures and misdeeds, then leave with all the candy apples and blame your opponent for taking them.
#4 – Be that guy who has to spend a half hour explaining what his costume is to everyone. Either be an esoteric, unquantifiable idea or concept or dress like a little known celebrity from the past. “Umm, yes I’m Jeremiah Hockenbocker, the obscure inventor who developed the butt rag in the year 1450 A.D. Yes, without my butt rag you’d never have toilet paper today. Give me candy.”
#3- Put shoes on your hands and walk everywhere on your hands instead of your feet. Claim that you’re you from an alternate universe. You’ll be horribly sore and dizzy afterwards but people will admire your commitment to staying in character.
#2 – Go as yourself. Tell everyone you’re a hobo. Consult with a stylist on November 1 to learn how you can not look like a hobo anymore.
#1 – Just wear your own clothes and buy your own candy. You’re an adult, jackass.
Bookshelf Battle 