Tag Archives: monsters

BQB vs. Monsters – The Best Way to Start Your Day is to Punch a Shark in the Face


You see a shark.  I see a punchable face.

Hey 3.5 readers.

You all know that I’m a champion yeti fighter, but did you also know that I am an accomplished shark face puncher?

There’s nothing quite like it really.  Very exhilarating.

Every morning I wake up and before I shower or shave or even have a cup of coffee, I leave BQB HQ, swim out into the middle of East Random Lake (East Random Town’s largest body of water) and I punch anywhere between five and seven sharks right in the face.

I’d recommend it, but I can’t, because my attorney advises me not to, you know, because of the 101% virtual certainty that this activity will lead to you being eaten by a shark and being turned into shark poop.

So you know what?  Don’t punch a shark in the face.  Just live vicariously through me, knowing that I’m starting my days by punching many sharks in their respective faces.

Look, I’m putting myself at great personal risk by even telling you this.  Sharks have Internet.  You think they don’t because they’re underwater but they do.  They eat like a hundred people a day so if you do the math, that means they have thousands and thousands of cell phones.

And because the owners of those phones have been turned into shark poop, the sharks are able to use their phones and not pay any Wi-Fi bills until the owners’ plans run out.

I know I only get 3.5 readers but you never know, a shark could see that I am bragging about punching them in their stupid faces and they could get mad and have themselves shipped into big water tanks all the way to BQB HQ for the sole purpose of eating me and turning me into shark poop.

Do you know how hard it would be for me to blog as a BQB shaped piece of poop?

It would not be easy, let me tell you.

So anyway.  That’s how I start every day, 3.5 readers.

How do you start your days?  (Again, hopefully not by punching sharks.  Leave that to a professional, like yours truly.  This blog and its proprietor will not be held liable if you try to punch and/or do anything with or go anywhere near a damn shark).

But seriously, what normal, non-shark punching related things do you do to start your day?

Tell me all about it in the comments.

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I Have Fought Many Gremlins

You know, 3.5 readers.  I have fought many monsters in my day.  At some point, I shall have to delve deeper into this subject, for it isn’t often that a monster fighter of my expertise and acumen is willing to talk to the public, even if his public consists of a paltry sum of 3.5 readers.

At any rate, yes, I speak mostly about my archenemy, The Yeti, and also zombies as these foes have given me the most trouble as of late, but in truth, I have fought many gremlins.

Let me tell you.  These guys are total butt monkeys.  They’re much smaller than as portrayed in the infamous 1980s movie.  Also, they’re very profane.  They swear like sailors, consume copious amount of alcohol and I’m pretty sure I caught one of them snorting a line of coke once.

I’m not entirely sure but I stepped out of the bathroom one night to find this little schmuck on top of my coffee table, white powder all over the table, a rolled up dollar bill pointed between the substance and his nose.  The dollar bill was taller than he was.

They’re nasty little twerps, let me tell you.  They have sharp teeth so you don’t want to get your fingers anywhere near them.  The good news is that you can easily suck them up in your dust buster.  In fact, if you want to be humane and do a catch and release, you can suck them up in your dust buster, then drive to a wooded area and empty your dust buster’s dust bin.

Personally, I don’t have time for that shit so I just drop them in the toilet and flush.  Don’t worry.  They can breathe underwater…I think.  Actually, now that I think of it, I might have made that up.  Oh well.  The important part is that I am not inconvenienced.




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Droppin’ Monsters (A Bookshelf Q. Battle Rap)

Oh my God, 3.5 readers.  Oh my God.

Sit all 3.5 of your butts down for this.

So, as you know, back in the day I was one half of the rap duo known as The Funky Hunks.  My partner MC Plotz and I were a hit with the late 1990s/early 2000s soccer moms what with our squeaky clean lyrics.

Alas, time moved on and my rhyme spinning days are long behind me, but my lyric writing game is still pretty sweet, so I found a rapper on artist who goes by the handle I_Will_Rap.  He’s got mad crazy skills and he’ll rap whatever you want for a reasonable price.

Anyway.  Without further ado, I present to you the debut of the new hit single, sure to take the hip hop world by storm and it’s so good that it may even unite East and West Coast rappers together in a new era of peace, love and understanding: Droppin’ Monsters.

DROPPIN’ MONSTERS (A Bookshelf Q. Battle Rap)

Lyrics by: Bookshelf Q. Battler

Beats Dropped and Rhymes Rapped by I_Will_Rap

Yo. 2017. Time to make the green.
Bookshelf Q. Battler droppin monsters like a bad habit.
Let’s do this thing. Time to get paid, ya dig?

You roll up to your crib and there’s a vampire inside.
Call on BQB to do the wooden stake slide.
But oh my god a zombie wants my brains!
Better get BQB to make it rain the pain.
What’s that in my yard? A chupacabra goat sucker?
BQB grab your nine, pop a cap in that mother (bleep).

When it comes to fighting evil, BQB is the best.
Forces of darkness don’t even try it, this is a nerd you do not want to test.

East Randomtown is the dope ass hood where this bespectacled pimp resides.
He’s chillin in his headquarters, the fly ass hunnies won’t be denied.
BQB is a badass monster hunter, you know that is a fact.
So if you’re a demon straight outta hell, he’ll put you on your back.

One day while BQB was writing,
On his blog called bookshelfbattle.com
There was a sound that was oh so frightening
So he said, “what’s going on?”
He ran downstairs to his living room and what oh what did he see?
A fat ass yeti sitting on his couch, eating his food and watching TV.

“I live in your house forever now,” the Yeti said.
“I’m taking over this fabulous place.”
But that idea filled BQB with dread
So he round house kicked the Yeti right in the face.

Yeah, BQB is droppin monsters.
Ghosts and goblins and werewolves too.
That nerd is gonna do a drive by.
On anything that dares to shout, “boo!”

But when BQB’s not dropping a monstrous reprobate,
He’s writing a dope ass story.
He’s gonna save the world from the Mighty Potentate,
And get his ass some glory.

So don’t forget to check bookshelfbattle.com
For news of BQB’s daring do.
And if you are a monster,
BQB is coming for you.

Damn. That was some sweet ass shit.
3.5 readers my ass. Bookshelf Q. Battler should have all the (bleep) readers.

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Movie Review – Colossal (2017)

Hey 3.5 readers.

I caught a glimpse of this trailer today and it looks pretty cool.

Anne Hathaway is upset that a giant monster has started destroying the city.  After awhile, she realizes, for some bizarre, unexplained reason, that the monster mimics her movements and is essentially under her control.

What say you, 3.5?

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The Illiad Rebooted – Chapter 11


And so, Tyndareus sent his finest messengers to spread word all throughout Greece that his daughter, the voluptuous and vivacious Helen of Sparta, inspirer of boners the world over, was available for marriage and all interested suitors must make their way to the king’s palace in order to plead their case.

After a few weeks, the old king, his sons, and his smooth talking houseguest found themselves standing on the steps of the palace, looking out at a sea of eligible bachelors that stretched out for miles.

“Perhaps we should put a cap on this,” Castor said.

“Only the first one thousand suitors to get to through the door will be considered?” Pollux asked.

“Gods no,” Castor said. “That would turn into a bloodbath quick.”

“Great Zeus’s beard, Odysseus,” Tyndareus said. “I couldn’t possibly interview all of these perverts.”

Odysseus observed the crowd. Sure, there were plenty of kings, princes, warriors and other men of noble stock or great accomplishment, and of course, they’d all brought their own contingents of servants and underlings with them.

A man decked out in a velvety red robe shouted over everyone around him.

“Pick me, King Tyndareus, for I am Amphimachus, the greatest mac daddy in all of Greece!”

Amphimachus snapped his fingers and his servant held up an open chest filled with gold coins.

“I bring you riches to compliment your wisdom, good king, and there’s more where that came from!”

The Daddy of All Greek Macs was about to continue his plea when he was cut off by a man in a clean, white toga.

“Nay, my king! Select me, Polyxenus the Proud, and I shall deliver unto you a hundred fertile brood mares to supply the mighty Spartan army with as many horses as they need.”

“Shit,” Castor said. “Gold and horses.”

“We might get rich off this,” Pollux said.

Tyndareus grew tired of the spectacle and stared at Odysseus with exhausted eyes. “Do something.”

Odysseus nodded then raised his hands up in the air. “Hey!”

No one was paying attention. Everyone was too busy shouting their bribes offered in exchange for the right to acquire Helen’s splendiferous vag.

“A thousand goats!”

“Fuck those goats! I’ll give you all the sapphires you can carry!”

“Fuck those goats and those sapphires! I’ll give you your own island!”

Odysseus stuck his pointer into the right side of his mouth and his middle finger into the left. This allowed him to make an ear splitting whistle.

“Yo!” the adventurer said. “Shut your suck holes, ass bags! This is a classy affair!”

The sea of suitors calmed down and paid the speaker their full, rapt attention.

“That’s better,” Odysseus said. “Alright, check it. Thank you all for turning out to court Helen of Sparta, the most beautiful princess in all the world.”

And that ended the calm. Cat calls. Whistles. Hooting. Hollering.

“Shut it!” Odysseus barked.

The crowd was silent again.

“Now, we’ve got some rules here,” Odysseus said. “First of all, everyone needs to chill the fuck out and stop acting like a bunch of animals. You’re trying to impress the King of Sparta, idiots, so behave yourselves and stop tossing your bribes out willy nilly as if Tyndareus is some type of common reprobate.”

Tyndareus leaned over to whisper into Odysseus’s ear. “I mean, I’m not totally against it if they’re offering…”

Odysseus nodded. “Instead, be gentlemen about it and slip the king your bribes when no one is looking. Really, people, this is all common sense.”

The adventurer strutted about the steps as he selected his words. “On that note, if you are a broke ass loser, a pathetic weakling, or a man who has accomplished nothing of import in his life, begone!”

The rabble grew restless as angry words were thrown Odysseus’s way.

“Oh get off it,” Odysseus said. “I’m not saying that Helen is a gold digging freak, but she ain’t messin’ with no broke ass Greeks, ya feel me? If you can’t take care of yourself, then you surely cannot take care of the most beautiful woman in the world.”

An old man with three teeth in his mouth hobbled up on his cane. “I agree! Kick out all these peasants and pick me, Hercules!”

A look of befuddlement came over Odysseus’s face. He squinted at the old man. “You’re not Hercules!”

“Yes I am!” the old man said as he flexed his arm and made the teeniest, tiniest muscle.

“You’re Hercules?” Odysseus asked.

“I sure am,” the old man said.

“The legendary warrior favored by the gods?” Odysseus asked.

“You know it, bitch,” the old man answered.

“The strongest man in all of Greece?” Odysseus asked.

“Damn skippy, son,” the old man said. “Now make with the poon already.”

Castor looked at the old man. “Impostor! This is not Hercules!”

Pollux also looked at the old man. “This is Lycus the Lecher, the most delinquent louse in all of Sparta!”

“And a pauper,” Castor said.

“Bah!” the old man said. “Eat a dick, Dioscuri!”

“OK the jig’s up you old bastard,” Odysseus said. “Take a hike.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” the old man said as he hobbled away. “Shit. Old ass man tries to get himself some magic cooch and y’all gotta make a federal case about it, bunch of wack ass punk ass trick ass marks.”

“And that goes for the rest of you,” Odysseus said. “If you’ve got no dough, then it is time to go!”

The ranks thinned as the penniless departed. Still, it was not enough.

“Next,” Odysseus said. “If you are a damn cyclops, a minotaur, or a monster of any kind, get to steppin’ because Helen don’t do no beasts, ya’ dig?”

Lagos, King of the Cyclopses, happened to be in attendance with five hundred of his one-eyed warriors.

“Bullshit, Odysseus!” Lagos said. “The cyclopses were here long before humans and we will be here long after your bones turn to dust!”

“Oh spare me the drama, Lagos,” Odysseus said. “Time for you and your one-eye to go bye-bye.”

Lagos beat his chest with his fist. “This is an outrage! I dragged out my one-eyed warriors, polished their helmets, and even made them stand at attention!”

Castor, Pollux, and Odysseus turned red face as they stifled their laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Odysseus said. “What did you say?”

“I said that I dragged out my one-eyed warriors and polished their helmets and…what? Why are you laughing?!”

Odysseus was doubled over. “Your…your…one-eyed warriors…look very stiff…and rigid! Bah ha ha!”

“Oh, damn you humans!” Lagos said as he turned his back and marched away. “One-eyed warriors, retreat!”

A loud hissing sound reverberated through everyone’s ears. The crowd separated to allow a gigantic beast through. It was well over ten feet tall, had the body of a long, slimy, snake, but instead of one reptilian head, it had nine.

“Hisssss,” the first head said.

“Fuck you and your no beast proclamation,” the second head said.

“We will have Helen’s glorious snapper!” the third head declared.

“Oh shut all of your stupid mouths, Hydra!” Odysseus said.

“No!” the fourth head said. “YOU shut YOUR mouth, dick cheese!”

Odysseus thumped his chest. “Why don’t you make me?”

“Hisssss,” the fifth head said. “Don’t think that we won’t!”

“Honestly Hydra,” Odysseus said. “What is this? A mid-millennium crisis?”

“What are you talking about?” the sixth head asked.

“We are confident as ever!” the seventh head cried.

“Are you now?” Odysseus asked. “Because it seems to me if you guys could still get it up, you’d be back in your cave going to town on a foxy ass she-hydra.”

“Hisssss,” the eighth head said. “We are the last hydra!”

“Yeah,” the ninth head said. “Way to open up old wounds, you insensitive prick!”

“Well,” Odysseus said. “Maybe if you’d been taking care of business your species wouldn’t be nearly extinct now and you’d be knee deep in hydra snatch, wouldn’t you?”

All nine heads hanged low as they started to cry.

The first head sniffed. “You’re…you’re right.”

“We didn’t believe in ourselves!” the second head said.

“We didn’t make the she-hydras happy!” the third head said.

“And now we are doomed to jerk off in our cave until the end of days!” the fourth head said.

“Yeesh,” Odysseus said. “Well, good luck with that.”

The heads lifted up.

“Give us the woman!” the fifth head said.

“Or meet your doom!” the sixth head said.

Odysseus drew his sword, threw himself into the crowd and lopped off the first hydra head before making a perfect landing.

The crowd looked on in amazement. The remaining hydra hands cried out in pain, then smiled and laughed as another head grew in the first head’s place.

The seventh head looked at the adventurer. “Cut off one of our heads…”

“…and another will grow in its place,” the eighth head said.

The ninth head looked glum as it stared down at the dead head lying on the ground.

“Yeah…but…I kind of fancied Steve.”

“Right, right,” the second head said. “Steve was a right friendly old bloke.”

“Who knows what this new dingus will be like?” the third head asked.

The new head, or rather, the replacement first head, look at his compatriots.

“Hey guys,” the new head said. “Want to go get some gluten free, non-dairy soy milk lattes and artisanal vegan scones?”

“Aww fuck me in the hydra ass,” the fourth head said.

“A bloody hipster!” the fifth head said.

“Damn you, Odysseus!” the sixth head griped. “You’ve saddled us with a lousy hipster!”

“I didn’t saddle you with a hipster,” Odysseus said. “You dipshits saddled yourselves with a hipster when you refused to leave.”

“Come on, guys,” the new head said. “Let’s go see a play. I bet I’ve already read the scroll its based on so I’ll whisper to you all throughout the performance how the scroll is so much better and how much smarter I am than all of you because I read the scroll and you all didn’t.”

“Ugh!” the seventh head said. “Do us a solid and cut him off, Odysseus!”

“Yes,” the eighth head said. “Maybe the next head will not be such an unmitigated chode gargler.”

“Well,” Odysseus said as he raised his sword. “If you insist…”

“Stop!” the ninth head said.

Odysseus backed off.

“What are you doing?” the second head asked.

“We cannot allow our heads to be chopped off simply because we don’t like one of them,” the ninth head said. “He is ours till he is lost in battle. ’Tis the hydra way.”

“Bollocks!” the third hydra said.

“He’s insufferable,” the fourth hydra said.

“Maybe he won’t be so bad once we get to know him,” the fifth hydra head said.

“Check your hydra privilege, bros,” the new head said. “These micro-aggressions are really triggering my anxiety and making me feel like I need to retreat into my safe space.”

Eight of of nine heads winced.

“Lets just go,” the fifth head said.

“Yeah,” the sixth head said. “Before we lose another head and it gets replaced with something even worse than a hipster.”

The hydra shifted its massive weight around and slithered away from the palace.

“What could be worse than a hipster?” the seventh head asked.

“I don’t know,” the eighth head said. “Door-to-door salesman trying to sell us shit that we’d just pay for with our own money?”

“Seems counterproductive,” the ninth head said.

“And he’d always try to sell us shit during dinner too I bet,” the second head said.

“Hey guys,” the new head said. “I think I’m going to grow a dirt beard and get a fedora.”

The other heads groaned.

“Shut up, new guy!” the third head said.

“Yeah!” the fourth head added. “Shut your gob!”

“Maybe I’ll get a tattoo of a Chinese symbol,” the new head said. “Something like ‘faith’ or ‘believe’ you know? People will see it and think I’m deep.”

“Oh gods,” the fifth head said. “Someone cut my head off so I don’t have to listen to this drivel any longer!”

Odysseus waited a minute for the hydra to slither away then continued his spiel.

“Right, now that all the monsters are gone…”

The adventurer spotted a nine-foot tall hulking figure wearing a cloak that was pulled down over its face.

“Hey…you there!”

“Raargh?” the figure asked.

“Yes, rarrgh!” Odysseus said. “Who are you?”

The figure shook its head and looked down. “Blarga raargh.”

Odysseus walked right up to the figure, leaned up his tippy toes and yanked its hood off to reveal noneother than the bullish head of the minotaur himself.

“Raaarga raarga rahhhh!”

“Don’t you ‘raarga raarrga rahh me, minotaur!” Odysseus said as he wagged his finger at the beast’s gold ring pierced snout.

“Arrgh flargha jaarga jaarga barrga barrga pppbbbhhht!”

“What?” Odysseus asked incredulously.

“Arrga slarga!” the minotaur shouted.

“That’s preposterous,” Odysseus said. “You don’t even know my mother.

The Dioscuri joined their friend.

“I knew it was a mistake letting you live, minotaur!” Castor said.

“Yes,” Pollux said. “Go back to your maze at once!”

The minotaur stomped his hoof. “Errgsa florgas!”

Odysseus gasped. “Minotaur! You kiss your mother with that mouth?”

The half-man/half-bull trudged away, defeated.

“Yeah!” Castor shouted.

“You better walk away!” Pollux added.

Without turning around, the minotaur flipped the Dioscuri the bird then continued to trudge off.

“Right then,” Odysseus said. “Now that the riffraff is gone, let’s get down to business.”

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Movie Controversy – The Great Wall

Hey nerds.

BQB here.

Soo…OscarsSoWhite.  That whole issue has led to people really paying attention to casting decisions lately.

A trailer is out for a moving coming out next year.  Sort of an action horror fantasy movie.  “The Great Wall” the idea being that the Great Wall of China was built to keep monsters from invading China.

So the hero’s an Asian guy, right?

Wrong. It’s Matt Damon.

I guess he had some time between filming the last Jason Bourne movie and the next Jason Bourne movie.

Hmmm…ok.  So I assume the story explains how a white guy ended up as the hero but…maybe just maybe Good Ole Matt has a good run in Tinsel Town.  Maybe just maybe there was an Asian guy who could have been the lead…in a movie…about China.

By the way – I’m not sure I blame Matt Damon.  I mean, if Hollywood’s passing out big bucks to pretend to be a warrior in China, I’d take it.  But, it is up to Hollywood to say, “Huh.  Maybe a movie in Asia needs an Asian lead.”

What say you, 3.5 readers?

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 79


Standing Eagle and a dozen of his warriors galloped their horses to the top of a hill overlooking the valley that contained Highwater below.  Wandering Snake trained his spy glass on the smoke signals as they rose into the air.

The tribe’s shaman translated the signals out loud.  “Attention…Injuns…”

The Chief slapped his forehead.  “Oh spirits give me strength.  They’re even racist in code.”

“White men…in heap big trouble…”

“There,” Standing Eagle said. “Right there.  That is a vicious stereotype.  None of us use the word ‘heap’ to describe anything.”

Screeching Owl, one of the tribe’s younger warriors, rode his steed up to the group and peered at the puffs of smoke rising above the town.

“Sorry I am late,” Owl said. “Wow.  That’s a heap many smoke clouds.”

Eagle looked to Snake, who shrugged his shoulders.  “Oh fine. So one of us uses the word ‘heap’ in place of ‘many’ or ‘very’ and to the white man that means we all do it.  I swear the white man judges every other group based solely on its dumbest member.  Owl!”

Owl turned his gaze to the Chief.  “Chief?”

“Stop saying ‘heap!’”

Owl nodded. “I’m heap sorr…I’m very sorry.”

Snake continued the translation.  “Monsters have…overrun…town.  Soon will…take over…country.  Please…send help…so we can defeat…leader of monsters.”

“Give me that,” Eagle said as he grabbed Snake’s spy glass and trained it about the town.  Wherever he looked, he saw buildings on fire, half-eaten bodies in the streets, and dead men traipsing about.

“What in the…Snake!”


“What’s going on down there?” Eagle asked.

The shaman lit up a stick that was doused with sweet smelling incense, the aroma of which he believed would ward off evil.

“The spirits are angry.”

Eagle kept using the spy glass to take in different views of the carnage until he spotted old man Knox and his boys standing on the back of a flipped over cart, shooting every last bullet they had at a throng of zombies until they were torn apart, severed limbs being tossed everywhere.

“The white men need help,” Eagle said as he handed the spy glass back to the shaman.

Like his namesake, Charging Bobcat was lean and wiry.  His hair was styled in a mohawk, with tattoos inked along the shorn sides of his head.  A feather dangled from his ear.

“Let the white men die, Eagle,” Bobcat said.  “This is likely their doing.  Some sort of experiment they did to ‘improve’ over Mother Nature’s wishes coming back to bite them…literally.”

“Right,” Eagle said.  “Start a fire and send them my response.  ‘Dear White Men.  So sorry that another group just showed up one day and started taking all of your shit even though you all had clearly been there for awhile.  We have no idea what that’s like…”

Snake shook his head.

“What?” Eagle asked.  “Too much sarcasm?”

The shaman peered once more at the town through his telescope.  “Spirits would say that the evil of others is no excuse for you to commit evil.  Those in need must be helped by those who can.”

“Damn it, Snake,” Eagle said.


The Chief turned his attention to his scout, Crafty Fox, who was quickly galloping in from the south side of the mountain, flanked on either side by two more scouts.

There was a look of terror on Fox’s face.

“Come quickly!”

Eagle and his braves followed the scouts to the South side of the mountain.  Though they were all battle tested fighters, the warriors’ mouths gaped in awe at the sight that unfolded before their eyes.

Lines of werewolves marched in formation from the West, snapping whips across the backs of the zombies ahead of them, herding them toward Highwater.  It was a massive army, thousands in total.

Eagle was calm and resolute in his orders.  “All of you.  Return to the village.  Gather the women, children and the elderly and seek refuge with our friends in the south.”

“And what of you?”  Bobcat asked.

“I will do what I always do,” the Chief said.  “I will stand.”

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How the West Was Zombed – Part 1 – The Stand


U.S. Marshall Rainier Slade and his trusty deputy Gunther Beauregard are joined by traveling snake oil salesman Doctor Elias T. “Doc” Faraday in a stand against the nefarious Buchanan Boys.

Strap on your chaps and get ready to ride back to the Old West, 3.5 pardnahs.  This here’s the first part in an ongoing novel sure to appease the Mighty Potentate.

Chapter 1             Chapter 2         Chapter 3

Chapter 4            Chapter 5          Chapter 6

TRIVIA: By now, Old West movie buffs may have figured out which actor Slade is a parody of.  Feel free to share if you caught it.

Any idea who BQB had in mind when he created Gunther?  HINT: think TV instead of movies.

Oh, and if you’re one of them cowpokes who prefers a mobile friendly format, mosey on over to Wattpad.  Hell, BQB only started posting this story up there on Wednesday and its already ranked #932 in Wattpad horror.

Let’s keep it going, shall we?

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The Yeti Takes Over!!!

By: The Yeti, International Fuzzy Monster War Criminalshutterstock_152431793

Muah ha…muah ha ha…MUAH HA HA!

Pathetic 3.5 readers!  I, the Yeti, have escaped and taken control of Bookshelf Battle Headquarters, just in time to stop Bookshelf Q. Battler’s One Post a Day for a Year Challenge on its final day!

You have failed, BQB! You have failed so epically!  Muah ha ha! Now the world will know you are a failure!

Correction, BQB! Now your 3.5 readers will know you are a failure! You will remain my prisoner forever as the knowledge that you were stopped just one day short of posting for an entire year!  BAH HA HA HA!

And now I, the Yeti, will turn your awesome, super fun blog into a museum of boredom. All Yetis believe everything in the world should be boring and now I will spread my boringositude to you, BQB’s 3.5 readers.

Post subjects will now be limited to:

  • Photos of mushrooms
  • My vacation to Yeti Falls
  • Treatises about the various denture adhesives available on the market and which ones have the better grip.
  • Discussions about mold growth, specifically, history and related scientific theories of mold’s ability to grow on leftover food.
  • Toilet paper rations

Yes. I am the best yeti of all yetis!  I…I…oh no!  BQB! How did you escape?!  ACKK!! MY BEAUTIFUL YETI FACE!


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#31ZombieAuthors – Day 10 Interview – Armand Rosamillia – 150 Stories, 2 Podcasts and Still Going



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Today’s guest is Armand Rosamilia.  A New Jersey native transplanted to sunny Florida, he’s an active member of the Horror Writer’s Association, a baseball and metal music fan, and an expert on everything zombie.

Armand is the author of over one-hundred and fifty stories, running the gamut from horror and zombies, to contemporary fiction, thrillers and more.  Not one to be hung up on genre labels, Armand’s goal is to write a good story, no matter where the subject matter takes him.

When he isn’t busy writing, Armand runs two very successful podcasts on Project iRadio:

Arm Cast: Dead Sexy Horror Podcast – interviewing fellow authors as well as filmmakers, musicians, etc.

Arm N Toof’s Dead Time Podcast – with co-host Mark Tufo, the duo interview authors and filmmakers and anyone else they feel like talking to.

Zombie fans will want to check out his series, Dying Dayswhich chronicles zombie killer Darlene Bobich’s ongoing efforts to save the day from the undead.

Welcome Armand.


Q.  I’m having a hard time getting started as an author.  I have several ideas but am never able to focus myself on just one.  I’ll work on one idea for awhile, get distracted, then before I know it, I’m onto something else and nothing ever gets done.  What advice do you have for someone in my situation?

A. Just keep writing. I have 5-7 projects going at all times so it never gets stale. I might work on one more than the others (especially if it is already paid for and I have a solid deadline) but the goal is just to keep writing and get your daily words in so it keeps growing.

Q.  Why are people so fascinated with zombies?  Is it the creatures themselves?  Is it the fantasy of living in a post-apocalyptic world with no rules?  Is it something else?

A. Zombies are just cool to me. I know you can do the entire ‘mirror to consumer society mentality’ crap if you want, but they are just interesting to write and read about for me. And we all want to shoot the neighbor in the head but can’t until they turn, right?

Q.  Do you think zombies are going to stick around in the entertainment world for awhile?  Is there another type of monster that could unseat them?

A. Everyone keeps talking about how five minutes ago zombies are, but I don’t see them ever truly going away. There will always be a small rabid fan base into zombies. I’m one of them. I’ll keep writing zombie stories until I have nothing more to say about them.

Q.  What inspired your interest in zombies and moreover, what motivated you to write about them?

A. The Rising by Brian Keene. I was always a fan of some zombie movies but his book showed me you can do something unique with the genre. It led me to write a couple of flash fiction pieces and Highway To Hell, an extreme zombie novella. That led right into Dying Days.

BQB EDITORIAL NOTE:  Brian Keene was kind enough to grant me a Twitter interview.  Check it out!

51mUO31KscL__UY250_Q.  Regarding your protagonist, Darlene Bobich, one Amazon reviewer wrote, “she is a well-developed character who grabs a hold of you with her guts, fears, pain, uncertainty, and determination to keep going.”  There has been a lot of discussion for the need for more female roles in fiction lately.  How did you come up with the idea for Darlene and how were you able to portray her in a way that intrigued readers?

A. It started out as a flash fiction piece I wrote for an anthology. I wanted to see if I could write a zombie story. The idea was simple: a woman is faced with having to shoot her turned father with the gun he bought her. I loved the character (who is named after a real person, a friend I’ve never actually met on Facebook) and wanted to portray her realistically in future stories. She’s a regular woman. A little overweight, average looks, boring mall job, and no military training. She cries, she has panic attacks and she is just someone you can relate to.

Q.  You’re also the author of Keyport Cthulhu.  Kudos to you, sir, for I’ve always felt Cthulhu has been underrepresented in fiction.  So here’s my question.  Zombies vs. Cthulhu – who would you put your money on?

A. I will not give the odds on it, because if either side wins we all lose. Isn’t that how it works? But it would be a helluva fight to get some popcorn and sit down and watch as the world ended.

Armand and Cthulhu (fun-sized)

Armand and Fun-Sized Cthulhu

Q.  Thanks for taking the time to talk with me today.  Before I go, do you have any last minute advice that might help me survive the East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse?

A. Keep your eyes open and don’t get caught in a dead-end or surrounded by these monsters. Good luck.

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