Tag Archives: mysteries

Nov 05 2015
Leave a comment
Pop Culture Mysteries

Pop Culture Mysteries – Case File #TBA – Kill ‘Em Again – Part 5

OK Battler.  You want answers?  I’ve got ’em.shutterstock_246824188-2

A man gets chased by a psychopath.  Suddenly the man gets the upper hand on the ne’er-do-well.  Knocks him out cold.  Lays him out on his ass.  Assumes he’s dead but we all know what happens to you and me when you assume don’t we?

A cynic might just say it’s for dramatic effect.  Lull the audience into a false sense of security.  Make them think that the worst is behind them then whammo, the killer works up his second win.  Like life, the bad guy strikes when you least expect it.

Personally, if that Michael Myers fell you’re all so keen on come Halloween came near me, I’d whip out Betsy and put one between his eyes, followed by five in his heart with perfect grouping.

But therein lies the rub.  Most of these characters in slasher films are just kids.  Young people.  Camp counselors and students and the like.  They haven’t experienced much in the way of adversity, have never fought anyone and when it comes right down to it, don’t have the demeanor of a 1950’s hardboiled private eye.

Bottomline: good people don’t know how to kill people, at least not in a way that keeps ’em dead.

So while double tapping Jason might be the wisest decision, it’s also a sign you’ve lost your humanity.

That’s this private dick’s two cents anyway.  Take it or leave it but either way you owe me five bucks, nerd.

Oh, and a notebook full of my recollections of Operation Fuhrerpunschen is on its way to our mutual blonde acquaintance.  Hope it helps though if you get blown up I won’t lose any sleep either.

shutterstock_278169329

Tagged , , , , , , ,
Nov 04 2015
Leave a comment
Pop Culture Mysteries

Pop Culture Mysteries – Case File #TBA – Kill ‘Em Again – (Part 3)

October 25, 2015 – Midnightshutterstock_239019751

The air was stale – cheap food, booze and leftovers.  I wasn’t helping the situation with my cigar.  My head was reeling from the evening’s festivities.

Upstairs, there was a couch in my office with my name on it.

But I needed to find out what the hell Battler wanted.

I slit open the manilla envelope, procured the piece of paper inside and read:

Hatcher,

A group of teenagers in peril.  A vicious psychopath wants them dead.  One by one he picks them off until the last one or two, depending on how gracious the film’s screenwriter was feeling at the time.

Somehow, our hero manages to get the upper hand.  He shoots, stabs, maims, or even runs the killer over with a car.  Alas, thinking the madman to be dead, the protagonist celebrates too early.  To the audience’s dismay, the killer gets up and starts chasing our hero around again.

Jason.  Freddy.  Leatherface.  Happens all the time.

Why, Hatcher?  Why, oh why do heroes in slasher flicks refuse to double-tap?

I’d heard that phone books had become a thing of the past and that it was possible to get a person’s number by dialing 411.  I tried it.

“Hello, thank you for dialing 411, how may I direct your call?”

“Uhh, yeah, hiya Toots,”  I said.  “Do you know Agnes?”

“Who?”  the operator asked.

“Agnes the Librarian.”

“You want the number for the public library, sir?”  the operator asked.

“Jeepers H. Crowe, dollface,”  I said.  “What kind of a question is that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Well I doubt the library is open at this ungodly hour, don’t you?”  I asked.

“I have no idea what you want me to do, sir.”

“Agnes,”  I replied.  “Get that old broad on the line and make it snappy.  I’m a busy man, see?”

“Do you have her last name?”  the operator asked.

I slapped my forehead.

“Oh for the love of Edward G. Robinson’s sneer,”  I said.  “What was it again?  Aloysius?  Anchorage?  Alabaster?  No…ABERNATHY!  Yes.  That’s the ticket.  One Agnes Abernathy please.”

“I have one listing for Herbert and Agnes Abernathy,” the operator said.

“That’s it.  Put me through sweetheart.”

All of a sudden there was a robot talking to me.

“The number you have requested can be dialed for an additional charge of thirty-five cents by pressing the number one…”

Thirty-five cents.  Highway robbery if you asked me.  “Aw screw it,”  I thought as I hit the number one.  “I’ll just send an invoice to Battler for it.”

“Hello?”  came an old lady’s voice.

“Agnes!”  I shouted.

“Yes?”

“Listen, I’m sorry to bother you at home but I’ve got quite a caper transpiring here…”

“Who is this?”  Agnes asked.

“Jacob R. Hatcher, Pop Culture Detective,”  I answered.

“Oh for the love of…”

There was a long trail of unlady like obscenities I won’t bother to offend the ears of you fine 3.5 readers with.

“Jake, are you nuts?  You can’t bother me at home!  This is very inappropriate for you to be calling my home this late.  How did you get this number?”

“Information,”  I replied.

“Are you some kind of weirdo sex pervert?”  Agnes asked.  “Are you stalking me?”

I laughed.

“No offense old gal, but I wouldn’t touch you with Herb’s business,” I said.  “Say Agnes, now that you’ve got all that out of your system, what’s a fella gotta do to find a monster movie around here?”

“A what?”

“A mons…Jumpin Jehosaphat, Agnes, are you deaf?  MONSTER….MOVIE!”

“Jake, I’m not in the mood for your nonsense,”  Agnes said.  “Herb’s been up all night throwing up in the bathroom and I’m exhausted.”

“Yikes,”  I said.  “Sorry to hear that.  You should tell him to lay off the bottle.  That’s why I do when I start praying to the porcelain god.”

I could hear the disdain in Agnes’ voice.

“HE HAS CANCER YOU JACK ASS!”

“Oh,”  I replied.  “Even worse.  Tell him I’m pulling for him.  So howsabout that monster movie?”

“It’s Halloween time,”  Agnes said.

“What’s that got to do with the price of tea in China?”  I inquired.

“Put on your TV and there will be one on every channel.  Were you dropped on your head as a child?”

“I doubt it,”  I said.  “Ma Hatcher was a world class baby rearer.”

I grabbed the remote control and turned on the TV Ms. Tsang had mounted on one of the side walls of the restaurant floor to entertain the customers.

The old gal was right.  Every channel I flipped through had images that were gorier than the last.

“Thanks Ag,”  I said.  “I’ll let you go.”

Silence.  An exasperate sigh.  Loud heaving sounds in the background.

“What the hell,”  Agnes said.  “I’m going to be up for awhile.  Tell me what channel you’re putting on and I’ll watch it with you.”

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
Nov 03 2015
Leave a comment
Pop Culture Mysteries

POP CULTURE MYSTERIES – CASE FILE #TBA – KILL ‘EM AGAIN (PART 2)

Saturday, Oct. 24, 2015 – 7:30 pm.shutterstock_225997423

Various costumed weirdos meandered into the restaurant as Ms. Tsang’s employees served h’orderves.

“So let me get this straight,” I said. “When I needed Battler’s help, he sent you to make me sign a legally binding contract obligating me to jump through a bunch of hoops like a jackass, but now that he needs something from me I’m supposed to bend over backwards like a world class limbo champion?”

“That’s the general idea,” Ms. Donnelly said. “It’s entirely up to you, Mr. Hatcher.  I can’t force your hand, though I find it necessary to point out that if General Morganstern succeeds in blowing up Mr. Battler into smithereens, the secret of how you can return to 1955 will perish with him.”

“Good,”  I said.  “Good riddance to that lousy nerd.  You could just tell me the skinny then.”

Ms. Donnelly clutched her pearls.

“I wouldn’t dream of it!” she said.  “Go against a client’s wishes?  Mr. Hatcher, I’m an officer of the court and as an attorney I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll fill up a notebook with the scoop on how I punched Adolf Hitler in the face if you think it’ll be useful as a bargaining chip to save Battler’s hide.  But know I’m not doing it for that geek, Ms. Donnelly.  I’m doing it for you.  If that weasel buys the farm you’ll stop visiting me and I’d miss you like a castrated dog misses his phantom testicles.”

“As usual, I don’t know whether or not to be charmed or alarmed, Mr. Hatcher.”

“A little from Column A and a little from Column B,” I replied.

The music began.  Every yahoo in the joint started jitterbugging.

“Isn’t it a tad early for Halloween festivities?” Delilah asked.

“Ahh, this is some shindig Ms. Tsang and the local merchants put together every year,”  I answered.  “Every business holds a party.  The kids come by to trick or treat.  The adults get tipsy.  It’s fun, you know, for people who aren’t like us…people who have the luxury of being able to have fun.”

“People who don’t suffer the burdens we do?”  Delilah asked.

“Precisely,” I replied.

Some ignoramus in a lion costume walked up to the table.

“Put ’em up, put ’em up,” the jerk said.

Instinctively, I reached into my trench coat, under which I kept Betsy, my old World War II service revolver, strapped to me tight.

“Hi folks,” the lion said.  “Abe Marlowe of Marlowe’s Dry Cleaning!”

A lady wearing a blue jumper over a white shirt came over.  She carried a wicker basket with a stuffed black dog.

“My wife, Sally” the lion said.

“Hello,”  Sally said.  “Wow, cool costumes!  Let me guess…”

Sally pointed a finger to me and said, “…you’re Bogie” and then to Delilah, “…and you’re Bacall.”

“Something like that,” I replied as I took a sip from my scotch glass.  “Who the hell are you two supposed to be, escaped mental patients?”

Abe laughed.

“No,” he said.  “Haven’t you ever seen The Wizard of Oz?”

“Oh right,” I said. “Girl drops a house on a green broad minding her own business but beats the rap on a technicality, thus avoiding the chair.  A heartless robot man, a mongoloid scarecrow and a giant gutless cat march her to a magic man who they think can solve all their problems with one wave of a magic want because it never dawns on them to roll up their sleeves and do any hard work of their own.  Communist propaganda if you ask me, at least that’s what I told my girl Peaches when we saw it in the theater when it first came out.”

The couple looked at me like I was The Creature from the Black Lagoon.

Delilah smoothed things over with her silver tongue, one of her many fine assets.

“Mr. Hatcher’s donned the garb of a hardboiled film noir style private detective,”  the lady lawyer said. “And one might say he’s a bit too wrapped up in the role.”

The couple breathed a sigh of relief.  Grown adults dressed up like characters in a kids’ movie but somehow I’m the oddball. Go figure.

“Nice meeting you,”  Abe said as he shook my hand.  “Stop by anytime and I’ll dry clean that coat for you, buddy.  On the house.”

Abe and Sally took off.

“Dry clean my coat?” I asked Delilah.  “What’s he mean by that?”

“Well, I’m not one to point out the foibles of others, Mr. Hatcher,”  Delilah said as she clacked open her briefcase and pulled out a manilla envelope, “But you haven’t washed that coat in over sixty years so perhaps Mr. Marlowe was taking pity on you, or at least the olfactory glands of those around you.”

Delilah forked over the envelope.

“Get outta here,” I said.  “Battler wants me to write down the details of Operation Fuhrerpunschen AND solve another Pop Culture Mystery?”

“Indeed,” Delilah said. “He expects it to be part of his ‘Thirty One Zombie Authors’ promotion on the Bookshelf Battle Blog, a push to grab the attention of additional readers.”

“How’s that worked out for him so far?” I asked.

“Very well,”  Delilah said.  “Last I checked with Mr. Battler a fellow in Dubuque was giving strong consideration to clicking Mr. Battler’s follow button.”

“I just hope the fame doesn’t go to his head,” I said.

The DJ dimmed the lights and played a slow number.

“Alright alright,” the DJ said. “Boys grab your ghouls and head out on the dance floor…”

“Shall we wiggle our bodies to and fro in a passionate manner, Ms. Donnelly?” I asked.

“Thank you but no, Mr. Hatcher,” Delilah said as she stood up.  “I’m afraid I have other pressing matters to attend to and I simply have no time to dance with you this evening.”

“Who said anything about dancing?” I asked.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
Nov 03 2015
Leave a comment
Pop Culture Mysteries

Pop Culture Mysteries – Case File #TBA – Kill ‘Em Again (Part 1)

By: Jake Hatcher, Official Bookshelf Battle Blog Private Eye

Our resident gumshoe

Our resident gumshoe

Saturday, Oct. 24, 2015, 7:00 p.m.

For a lawman, there’s nothing more disturbing than a knock on the door.  Sure, it’s probably just an old friend stopping by to wish you well or a neighbor in need of a cup of sugar, but when you’ve seen as much action as I have, you can’t help but wonder whether or not it’s some stickup artist coming to separate you from your wares at gunpoint.

Tentatively, I opened the front door to Tsang’s Hong Kong Palace, the restaurant above which I occupied a small office.

Sure enough, I found a tiny trio of masked hoodlums with their hands out.

“TRICK OR TREAT!” they shouted.

One of them wore a black mask and a cape.  I think he was supposed to be that Darth Vader cat from that flick I watched with Agnes the Librarian this summer.  The kid in the middle was some kind of space alien and there was also a girl dressed up as a fairy princess.

“Now see here, bums,” I said. “I don’t know what gave you the impression that this is some kind of charity operation but I’ll have you know this is a capitalist establishment, see?  Head down the street three blocks and take a right if you want the nearest soup kitchen.  You’ll find no New Deal Democrats here.”

“Oh Jake, knock it off!”

Ms. Tsang, my landlady, dressed up as a hideous green witch, walked over with a bowl of candy and doled out free goodies to the little freeloaders.

“Thank you,” said the Darth Vader kid.

“Lose this address, degenerates,” I said as I slammed the door in the kids’ faces.

Ms. Tsang walloped me in the shoulder.

“Get in the Halloween spirit!”  she said.  “You used to take me trick or treating and you never complained this much.”

“Yeah,” I replied. “But that was back when kids made their own costumes and didn’t buy a plastic get-up from the pharmacy and you could trust that your neighbor wasn’t some kind of a nut job pervert sticking razor blades in the candy apples.  Hell, you could even eat an unwrapped candy apple.  Like everything else in this time period, Halloween has gone downhill fast.”

Ms. Tsang handed me the candy bowl.

“Man the door,” she commanded. “Pass out the treats.  Keep the lectures to yourself.”

“Free food to any jerk that knocks on the door,”  I said.  “I swear the…”

“The Commies didn’t win!” Ms. Tsang interrupted as she headed for the kitchen.

My niece knew me all too well.

I spied one of the minuscule candy bars.

“Fun size,” I read on the wrapper.  “What’s so fun about it?”

Another knock.

“Can’t you loafers read the sign?!” I asked as I opened the door. “NO SOLICITORS!”

Delilah K. Donnelly, Legal Counsel for a Website with 3.5 Readers

Delilah K. Donnelly, Legal Counsel for a Website with 3.5 Readers

Oops.  It wasn’t a Trick or Treater this time.  It was delicious dish Delilah K. Donnelly, Attorney for our mutual client, Bookshelf Q. Battler.

Hair as if she’d just stepped out of the finest salon and a dress to match, she was a stunning vision as always.

Now there was one treat I’d like to trick.

“Have I come at a bad time, Mr. Hatcher?”

“Ms. Donnelly!” I said.  “No, not at all!”

I showed her in.

“I apologize for that obnoxious outburst,”  I said as I took the lady’s faux fur stole.  “I thought you were someone else.  You can feel free to solicit me anytime.  Early and often, preferably.”

“I haven’t time to feign a lack of disgust in the face of your perverse inclinations, Mr. Hatcher,” Delilah said. “I’ve come on most important business.”

“Of course,” I said.  “Please, tell me all about it.  Can I offer you something sweet, delicious and fun sized?”

“Thank you but no,” Delilah said as she walked toward the booth in the back left hand corner of the restaurant.  “I refrain from candy.”

“Who said anything about candy?”  I asked.

Tagged , , , , , ,
Nov 02 2015
Leave a comment
Pop Culture Mysteries

#31ZombieAuthors – Pop Culture Mysteries Tie-In

Hello 3.5 readers,

BQB here.  While I was indisposed in the East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse, my attorney, Delilah K. Donnelly was dispatched to ask Jake for assistance, namely to write down all he could remember about Operation Fuhrerpunschen, or in layman’s terms, the mission he went on in 1945 to save the world and change the course of humanity by punching Adolf Hitler in the face.

The result was supposed to be a Halloween episode of Pop Culture Mysteries and while Halloween is over now, what the hell, I’m going to help Jake get it formatted and up on this fine blog anyway.

Hope you enjoy.

Tagged , ,
Oct 20 2015
Leave a comment
BQB's Zombie Apocalypse Survivor's Journal

BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Journal – Day 20

10:00 a.m.

Delilah K. Donnelly, BQB's Attorney

Delilah K. Donnelly, BQB’s Attorney

For the first time in twenty days, I felt comfortable enough to sleep in.  VGRF was snuggled in close to me, her mouth wide open as she snored and blew a strand of her red hair up and down with each exhale and inhale.

There was someone I needed to check in with.  I was way overdue.

I punched a number into the space phone and a few moments later, I found myself staring at a video feed of a blonde woman. She was all class and elegance.  Her hair was such that it looked like she visited a salon daily.  Her dress was one of the finest that the Beverly Hills boutiques had to offer.

She spoke with style and grace with an undertone of Old Hollywood glamour.

“Mr. Battler?”

“Hello Ms. Donnelly.”

It was my attorney, Delilah K. Donnelly, Official Lead Counsel for the Bookshelf Battle Blog and my chief advisor on all legal matters.

“Are you quite alright?”  Delilah asked.  “I must say I haven’t heard from you in quite some time and after viewing the news reports regarding the tragedy in your hometown, I’ve grown dreadfully concerned.”

“I’m good for now,”  I said.  “But listen, I need your help.”

“Of course.”

“I’m being targeted by a crooked general, one Thomas Morganstern,”  I explained.  “He’s none too pleased that Jake spilled the beans about Operation Fuhrerpunschen and intends to use the zombie apocalypse as a cover to blow me up, thus shutting the Bookshelf Battle Blog down for good.”

“Good heavens,”  Delilah said.  “The 3.5 readers would be lost without you, sir.  What ever shall we do?”

“Tell Jake he needs to write down a rough draft of everything he can remember about the mission he went on to punch Adolf Hitler in the face,”  I said.  “Then get it to a secure location.  Let Morganstern know that if anything ever happens to me, no, to any of us, that the manuscript will be self-published.”

“Shall we price it at ninety-nine cents on Amazon?”  Delilah asked.

“Jesus Christ, Delilah,”  I said.  “What am I, a teenage girl hocking her love poems?  We’re talking about the scoop on a top secret government operation to punch history’s greatest monster in the face.  Surely we can get at least 2.99 for it.”

“Of course.  I shall recruit Detective Hatcher’s assistance immediately,”  Delilah said.  “I must say it won’t be easy, Mr. Battler.  He remains invariably displeased that you continue to withhold the secret of his sixty year nap from him.”

“You sound like you have something to say,”  I said.

Delilah lit up one of her long filtered cigarettes and took a puff.  I could tell she was stalling.

“Do you think its fair?”  she asked.

“That I string Jake along like a circus monkey, making him dance for the info he wants to know?”  I asked. “No, not at all.”

“He views you as some type of absurd villain,”  Delilah said.  “Toying with him just to drive your site’s readership higher than 3.5.”

“Then let him think that,”  I said.  “I don’t know what else to do.”

Delilah flicked some ash into a ceramic tray on her desk.

“Tell him the truth?”

“What?”  I asked.  “That a maniacal alien despot is threatening to conquer Earth unless my writing career takes off and that running a website featuring regular posts from a hard boiled noir style detective full of stories of his exploits might just be the one thing that puts me over the top?”

“I suppose it does sound foolish when you put it that way.”

“You’ve got a bigger heart than you’re given credit for Delilah,”  I said.  “But you know for the Pop Culture Mysteries posts to work, we need to insulate Jake from aliens, the Yeti, Dr. Hugo, really all the ridiculous nonsense that happens in the Bookshelf Battle world.”

“Very well, Mr. Battler,”  Delilah said.  “I must say I fear that Detective Hatcher may be in for quite a letdown when he discovers how he ended up here.”

VGRF stirred, stretched and yawned.

“Did you feel letdown when I told you how you ended up here?”  I asked.

Delilah’s large eyes looked down.

“At first, yes.  And for quite some time thereafter.”

“And now?”  I asked.

She looked up.

“I feel eternally grateful for the gift you’ve given me.”

“Jake will eventually share that feeling.”

Delilah scoffed.

“I doubt that indubitably.  Detective Hatcher is hardly as open minded as I am.”

“Hi Delilah,”  VGRF said.

“Good morning, Ms. Fighter,”  my attorney said.  “Did you sleep well?”

“I did.”

“I’m ever so glad to hear it,”  Delilah said.  “Will there be anything else, Mr. Battler?”

“Yes,”  I replied.  “Halloween is coming.  Can you see if Jake will find out why the hero in a horror movie just clubs the bad guy one time and assumes victory, only to find that the baddie has just discovered his second wind and is ready to fight again?  I’ll send you the details.  Tell Jake there’s a cool fiver in it for him.”

“Ever the big spender,”  Delilah said.  “I’ll deliver your requests to Detective Hatcher right away.  Good day Mr. Battler.  Ms. Fighter.”

“Good day,”  I replied.

I hanged up the phone.

“You’re lucky to have her,”  VGRF said.

“The top lawyer in Hollywood representing a guy with a blog that caters to a mere 3.5 readers?”  I asked. “Uh…yeah, I think so.”

“She’s very loyal,”  VGRF said.

“True,”  I said.  “And if there’s one quality you can’t get enough of in the zombie apocalypse, it’s loyalty.”

I dialed another number on the space phone.

“That reminds me.  Time to call another zombie author.”

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
Oct 13 2015
Leave a comment
BQB's Zombie Apocalypse Survivor's Journal

BQB’s Zombie Apocalypse Survivor’s Journal – Day 13

At exactly six am, we all woke up to what sounded and felt like an earthquake.

I bet Jerry Bruckheimer doesn't have shit like this on his blog.

I bet Jerry Bruckheimer doesn’t have shit like this on his blog.

VGRF and I looked out the window just in time to see a squad of F-15 fighter jets flying over head. In their wake, a sonic boom followed.

Blandie popped out of the bedroom.

“What was that?!”

Bernie jumped up.

“I didn’t touch anything!  I swear!”

“Relax, humans,”  Alien Jones said.  “The East Randomtown Mall is no more.”

The space phone rang.  I answered it.

“Hello?”

“Battler, you son of a bitch.  You’re still alive.”

I recognized the voice from yesterday’s broadcast.

General Morganstern? What a Douchenstern.

General Morganstern? What a Douchenstern.

“General Morganstern.”

“I was hoping you’d still be in the mall.  I do hate to waste good missiles.  Pity.”

I put the space phone on speaker.

“Wait.  So you’re TRYING to kill me?”

“Of course.”

I could feel a sense of panic spread over the group.

“Why?”

“Two words, dipshit.  Operation Fuhrerpunschen.”

I tried to bluff.

“I don’t…I don’t know anything about…come again?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, nerd!”  Morganstern shouted.  “You’ve got that 1950’s style private detective spilling his guts about how he took out Hitler all over your pathetic excuse for a blog!”

“So?”  I asked.  “I only have 3.5 readers!”

“That’s 3.5 too many!”  Morganstern replied.  “National security is at stake, son.  You and your friend out in California have no idea what forces you’re messing with.  We’ve got plans for Jake and as for you?  We’ll find you.  We’ll blow your ass up and the public will never know that you were anything more than a zombie apocalypse casualty.”

I sat down on the couch.

“Is there anything I can do to talk you out of this?”

“Maybe,”  Morganstern said.  “Turn over the alien so we can slice him up.  Do that and shut down the Bookshelf Battle Blog down for good and never utter the words, “Operation Fuhrerpunschen” to anyone ever again, and I’ll let you live.”

Alien Jones and I had become looked up at me and was about to speak when I cut him off.

“No, Alien Jones,”  I said.  “Don’t even think about it.  I’ll never give you up to save myself.”

“I wasn’t thinking that at all,”  Alien Jones said.  “I was just going to ask if you think your Aunt has any booze up in this shack.”

“You’ll get my alien over my dead body,”  I said into the space phone.  “Listen, my 3.5 readers just assume everything on my blog is fiction.  I’m not worth your time.”

“The very powerful man I answer to would disagree.”

“The President?”  I asked.  “I doubt he’d condone what you’re doing.”

“The man I’m working for makes the President look as powerful as an old washer woman.  That’s all I’ll say about that.”

“General,”  I said.  “Fine.  Kill me if you have to, but please, let my friends go.”

“Do they know about Operation Fuhrerpunschen?”  Morganstern asked.

Bernie and Blandie were clueless.  Alien Jones and VGRF were both Bookshelf Battle Blog contributors so of course they knew.

“No not at all,”  I lied.

“Sir?”  Blandie interrupted.

I directed my gaze toward Blandie and mouthed the words, “SHUT UP!”

“Sir,”  Blandie repeated.  “My name is Blandie Settler.  I’m a proud American in good standing and I just want to assure you Iknow NOTHING about Operation Furry-whatever, so there’s no reason to…”

Boo! Blandie is the worst!

Boo! Blandie is the worst!

“Jesus Christ, Battler!”  Morganstern barked.  “Have you had me on speaker the entire time?  Now I really DO have to kill every last asshole you’ve got in that room with you!”

“Thanks Blandie,”  I said.  “Thanks a lot.”

“You’re just lucky your phone can’t be tracked,”  Morganstern said.  “I’d of wiped you off the map by now.”

“How did you get this number anyway?”  I asked.

“We’ve been tracking your porn viewing for quite sometime, Battler.  Every time you hit on one of the sites we’re monitoring, it gives us all your info.”

VGRF wacked me.

“What?”

“Even now?” she whispered.  “You’re looking at porn during the zombie apocalypse?  Have you no shame?”

“I’ve got to say our tech guy had to work around the clock to figure out how to dial a number that included four pictures of a frog licking a cupcake.”

Alien Jones shrugged his shoulders.

“There are parts of the universe where a frog licking a cupcake is considered good luck,”  Alien Jones explained.

“You know what the sad part is General?”

“What’s that?”

BQB and Jake working on an Operation Fuhrerpunschen novel together?!

BQB and Jake working on an Operation Fuhrerpunschen novel together?!

“Had you just come to me and asked me to keep Operation Fuhrerpunschen off of my blog, I’d of done it.  But now that you’re trying to kill my friends and I, I can guarantee you that not only will I find a way to escape, but I’ll contract with Jake to put a full length novel about said operation on Amazon as soon I get home!”

The General went silent for a bit, then uttered, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me, bitch.”

“You’ll never get out of this alive, Battler,”  Morganstern said.  “I’ve got surveillance drones combing East Randomtown as we speak.  As soon as you pop your ass out into the light of day, I’ll shove a missile up it.”

I hanged up the phone.

“Listen everyone,”  I said.  “I’m the one who allowed Jake to talk about a top secret mission on my blog.  I’m the one who brought the heat down.  Morganstern wants me.  He’s just threatening the rest of you to get at me.  Let’s split up.  You all get to safety.  I’ll turn myself in.  Once I’m dead, he won’t care about you.”

“Untrue,”  Alien Jones said.  “I read Morganstern’s mind.  He truly intends to hunt down you and anyone who has ever heard the words, ‘Operation Fuhrerpunschen.’”

“Shit!”  Bernie said as he stuck his fingers in his ears.  “Stop saying it then!”

“Our only hope of survival is to stick together.  It will be risky, but we’ll only move under the cover of darkness so as to avoid the military’s surveillance.  If we are detected, we run the risk of becoming the victims of another air strike.”

“Then it’s settled,”  VGRF said.  “Let’s all get some rest and we’ll move out at dusk.”

“I’m sorry I got you all into this mess,”  I said.  “I promise to you get you out of it.”

“Don’t make promises yo’ ass can’t keep, sucka,’”  Bernie said.

“Which reminds me,”  I said as I dialed a number into the space phone, “I promised to interview another zombie author today.”

Tagged , , , , , , ,
Sep 30 2015
1 Comment
A Guide to the Bookshelf Battleverse

A Guide to the Bookshelf Battleverse – Part 7 – Pop Culture Mysteries

Just as Cheers begat Frasier and Friends begat Joey, so too did the Bookshelf Battle Blog begat Pop Culture Mysteries.

You wish your blog had a spinoff.

DELILAH K. DONNELLY

shutterstock_28986631

Attorney Delilah K. Donnelly of the Los Angeles based law firm of Donnelly and Associates is considered one of the finest lawyers in Hollywood, known for her ability to make impossible deals happen and free even the most guilty looking suspects.  Needless to say, her services cost a pretty penny.

Thus, it’s a mystery as to why she voluntarily serves as Lead Counsel for the Bookshelf Battle Blog, holding BQB’s hand in all murky matters and acting as the rock he needs to lean on when times get tough.

A woman of perfect poise and posture, elegance, class, and refinement, she carries herself in an old fashioned manner, though she gets along just fine in modern times, eating most men who cross her for breakfast with a cunning quip.

Intensely guarded when it comes to her personal life, BQB is fully aware of how lucky he is to have such high caliber representation for a website with only 3.5 readers.

JAKE DASHING

shutterstock_239019751

One of the most infamous lawmen of the twentieth century, Jacob R. Dashing left his hometown of Bayonne, NJ at age 18 with his then girlfriend, Hettie May Blodgett.  The young couple made their way to Tinseltown with stars in their eyes and dreams of fame in their hearts.

Dashing wanted to be an actor, Hettie a singer.  Since Dashing became a drunk and Hettie went on to become legendary Jazz singer Peaches LeMay, the deal worked out a bit better for his better half.

A budding career as a boxer was cut short when Mugsy McGillicuddy’s gang forced him to take a dive lest Peaches sleep with the fishes.

“The Jersey Jabber” sought redemption and found it during World War II, when he was recruited for a top secret mission to punch Adolf Hitler in the face.

Through Attorney Donnelly, BQB and Dashing are currently in negotiations regarding the production of a novel based on Operation Fuhrerpunschen.

Such a move may be risky, as there are forces who would prefer to see the details of this mission stay buried.

Following WWII, Jake found employment with the LAPD, rising to the level of detective, and later became a private investigator.

His three ex-wives include:

  • Trixie, who slept with Jake’s partner, Mickey, but insisted she was fooled.  Since she wasn’t the brightest bulb, her claim wasn’t that far fetched.
  • Muffy, who shot Jake six times, but loved him enough to miss every vital organ.
  • Connie, who was the most loyal woman Jake ever knew, but alas he drove her away with his booze addiction.

POP CULTURE MYSTERIES

In 1954, Jake fell asleep at his desk.  When he woke up, it was 2014.  The Tsang family, who considered him an honorary member, took care of him for close to sixty years while he was dozing.

Cell phones.  Computers.  Color TV.  Women wearing pants and acting like they own the joint.  2014 was not a world that Jake recognized, and he began searching for answers.  Why did he sleep for nearly sixty years and was it possible to return to his own time?

A year later, in the summer of 2015, Delilah K. Donnelly walked into Jake’s office, offering answers…for a price.

Her client, Bookshelf Q. Battler, claimed to have the answers Jake was looking for, and would reveal him in exchange for Jake’s agreement to solve one hundred pop culture mysteries.

The notorious lawman felt a bit silly taking on questions as foolish as “What happened to the original Brady Bunch spouses?” but decided it was worth it if it would get him back to the 1950s.

Like most hardboiled noir style private detectives, Jake is prone to speaking in long, exaggerated monologues.

To date, BQB and Jake have never met.  Attorney Donnelly delivers BQB’s pop culture questions to Jake out of an entirely astute fear that Jake will just strangle the shit out of him until he makes with the answers.

Remember, 3.5 readers.  Many bloggers claim to be great, but only Bookshelf Q. Battler has pissed off a trained Nazi killer/boxer/detective for your personal amusement.

Keep that shit in mind when you’re doling out the leibsters, nerds.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Aug 26 2015
Leave a comment
Pop Culture Mysteries

Pop Culture Mini-Mysteries with Informant Zero – What is Mr. T’s Real Name?

Salutations 3.5 Readers,

Informant Zero

Informant Zero

Informant Zero here, reporting from my nondescript lair deep beneath the Anything Goes Club.

Through Attorney Donnelly, Bookshelf Q. Battler and I have reached an agreement.

Every Wednesday, I’ll post a Mini-Mystery, a short question about entertainment.

Doing so will allow Detective Hatcher to ramble off course from the questions BQB asks him but still get your inquiries about Hollywood answered.

THIS WEEK’S QUESTION

In the 1980’s, Mr. T was a big brawny fan favorite.  As BA Baracus, he was the A-Team’s muscle.  Sporting layers upon layers of gold jewelry, he became a cult icon and even had his own Saturday morning cartoon show.

As Clubber Lang, he delivered an upsetting defeat to Rocky Balboa in Rocky III.  Rocky learned the hard way that complacency is a surefire path toward defeat.

The mystery at hand?

What is Mr. T’s real name?

Tweet your answers to @bookshelfbattle or leave them in the comments below.  I will return next Wednesday to provide the answer and a new mystery.

So long, 3.5 readers and remember:

The truth is not as hidden as you might think.

Do you have a question about entertainment?  Whether it’s about Hollywood, celebrity gossip, TV, movies, books, music etc. drop a dime to @bookshelfbattle  

BQB might assign it to Jake or Informant Zero, depending on who’s available.

If you’ve got a book or blog, it will be plugged, subject to Attorney Donnelly’s approval.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,
Aug 24 2015
7 Comments
Pop Culture Mysteries

Pop Culture Mystery Revamp?

I don’t think I will do this but I want to get the 3.5’s advice first.
shutterstock_229115164

Suppose I:

  • Remove Bookshelf Q. Battler
  • Remove the Pop Culture Questions
  • Rewrite it as a series about a 1950’s detective who fell asleep, woke up in modern times, and an elegant lady lawyer acts as a go between, bring a new case to Jake every episode on behalf of a mysterious benefactor.  Maybe a rich man who wants justice done or something.  I don’t know.  It’d be some person more realistic than Bookshelf Q. Battler.

Why I Thought About It:

  • We’re reaching a point where Jake barely talks about BQB’s question.  It just usually descends into “Oh, that question reminds me of the time when…”
  • Example.  BQB asks Jake “How did Gilligan get washed up on the island?”  Jake’s response would be, “Ahh that reminds me of the time when I was shipwrecked with a band of pirates, goes on about a shipwreck related mystery, and then briefly at the end also answers how Gilligan got lost.”
  • Will the public at large get “Bookshelf Q. Battler?”

Why I’m Leaning Towards Not Doing It

  • To remove the pop culture is to remove the title, and “Pop Culture Mysteries” is such a catchy title. Sad to say, but often it’s all about the title.
  • I feel like at some point the issue can be addressed with something like:

DELILAH:  Mr. Hatcher, Mr. Battler has become very disappointed with your reports.  He asks you a simple question and all you do is drone on and on about your adventures instead.  Could you perhaps reign it in?

JAKE:  What?  And deny the 3.5 my stories?

I don’t know.  Let me know what you think.

As I’ve said before, I started writing this in April and September is around the corner.  It’s the longest I’ve kept going on a project and mainly because when it’s just a guy sharing his memories, it’s kind of impossible to “write myself into a wall” the way I’ve done with other ideas.

Any feedback you can provide on these stories (good, bad or otherwise) is welcome.  My goal is to finish the series of posts by the end of the year, edit and rewrite them, starting posting them daily on a Pop Culture Mysteries spinoff blog next year and then work on and release a Jake novel next year.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,
← Older posts
Newer posts →