Tag Archives: Science Fiction

Movie Review: Independence Day: Resurgence

From the far reaches of space, aliens travel to Earth…

to remind me that I am now old as f%&kT and have accomplished very little in 20 years.

Although in my defense, neither has the world! So there’s that.

SPOILERS abound.

BQB here with a review of Independence Day: Resurgence.

The year was 1996.

Bill Clinton was in the White House, chasing interns around the Oval Office with his pants around his ankles and turning Monica Lewinsky into a human humidor (Google it, millennials. It’s too disgusting to go into further detail.)

The Beastie Boys were laying down some of their ill-est shit.

The sentence “Bill Cosby gave that lady his pudding pop” could only have been construed as “that nice comedic father figure was kind enough to give a woman the delicious frozen snack treat that he endorses.”

The Internet was in its infancy.  It was a cute toy but other than that no one saw a glaring need to pay a fee to tie up your phone line while your computer screeched at you.

People who took pictures of their lunch and then demanded that you a) look at the pictures of their lunch and b) make comments about their lunch were considered assholes.

Technically, those people didn’t even exist, or if they did, not in high numbers. Again, the Internet was in its infancy.  If you wanted your own website you needed coding knowledge and technical know-how.  It was just too much work to post pictures of your lunch.

And at the box office was a movie called Independence Day.

Yes, in a pure marketing move, it was released on July 4th. Independence Day.

Those aliens know how to screw up a barbecue.

In the original, aliens invade Earth.  In a far flung story line, various groups and people react to the alien attack.

To the best of my recollection, you had Bill Pullman as the president, who was also a fighter pilot, for no other reason really than he got to make inspiring speeches and then fly around in a fighter jet and shoot at alien spaceships.

Oh and there was Randy Quaid as a guy who appeared to be a drunk jackass who was crazy for believing he’d been abducted by aliens as a kid only to be vindicated.  Humorous. Also, he was, coincidentally, a pilot as well so he too enjoyed the alien shooting fun.

Of course, the big star was Will Smith as Capt. Hiller, the pilot/hero who saves the day.

(SPOILER ALERT – he and Jeff Goldblum fly a stolen alien fighter craft into the mothership, fooling the aliens just long enough for them to upload a virus with the help of a 90’s era Mac and a floppy disk.)

Seemed ingenious at the time.

Twenty years have now passed.

Holy f%&king butt nuggets.  Twenty years.

3.5 readers, here’s my first criticism of this highly unnecessary sequel.

It made me think too much about my life – how quickly the past two decades went by. Mistakes made. Things I could have done differently.

How is it possible that I went from a wide-eyed young lad thinking this new fangled CGI movie was pretty cool (CGI effects were fairly new to the movie scene in those days so as a movie goer, they were a treat. I feel bad for you millennials as you have nothing to look forward to now, unless virtual reality actually ends up being as big as they claim it will be).

Where was I? Ah yes. How did I go from that young kid wowed by CGI to a jaded adult who has now seen so much CGI that it just doesn’t have them same wow factor that it did when it was new?

Shit. Then there’s me in general. Twenty years ago I thought by now I’d be a really amazing, fabulous person.

Had you told me back then that in 20 years my greatest achievement would be starting a blog with 3.5 readers my response would be a) “What’s a blog?” and then b) “Oh, it’s a website that any asshole with $10 and rudimentary typing skills can start? Excuse me while I GO STICK MY HEAD IN THE MOVIE THEATER RESTROOM TOILET AND FLUSH IT UNTIL I DROWN TO SPARE MYSELF THIS INCREDIBLY DISAPPOINTING FUTURE!!!”

Nah. I wouldn’t have done that. I’d have just vowed that I’d work harder and make a difference. You millennials weren’t the first generation to view yourselves as special snowflakes.

At any rate, I spent most of this movie paying little attention to the action on screen. Instead, I went over the multitude of mistakes I made, opportunities missed, warning signs avoided, paths not taken and so on that led me to a point where the highlight of my day is writing a review of a highly unnecessary sequel to a movie that was dumb twenty years ago.

Even worse, so little has changed in the world since then when you think about it:

  • A Bush had recently been president before Clinton became president.
  • Since then, another Bush became president. Then a third Bush recently tried to become president. Also, another Clinton wants to be president. At least if the Clintons end up back in the White House, the interns will have a head start this time. Bill isn’t looking as spry as he used to be.
  • Trump’s hair defied gravity and laws of physics, back in the 1990s and today.
  • Cars don’t fly yet. We have yet to meet real space aliens. Oh, and the Simpsons are still on the air.

And yet, despite all of these similarities, there were some differences between then and now that made the original film more enjoyable…then.

Specifically:

  • I was young and more willing to suspend disbelief. (Bill Pullman as a President/Alien Fighter seemed perfectly plausible.)
  • Seeing landmarks getting blown up by aliens seemed like harmless fantasy drivel back in the day.  As I recall, the aliens in the original film blow up the White House so as to illustrate to you, the viewer that they were evil ass aliens who meant business and were not to be f%&ked with.  Since 9/11, such scenes just seems to hit too close to home.
  • And like I said before, CGI was in its early stages, so it was awesome to see. Then George Lucas came along and made those cartoonish Star Wars prequels.

OK. Shit. 1,000 words in, let’s talk about the sequel itself.

It’s twenty years later and the world has become a Utopia. A casino magnate with gravity defying hair and the lady who ran the country in the 90’s by shoving her hand up her husband’s ass and working his mouth like a puppet (oh come on, you know she did) aren’t vying for control of the Free World.

Rather, the entire world is free and humanity works together as humans have set aside their differences in order to keep a watchful eye out for future alien invasions.

Alien tech has been used to create all sorts of wonderful inventions that improve life and make people happy.

And then, you know, aliens invade again. Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit, some people do some shit over here, some other people do some shit over there, cut in some scenes of shit getting blown up around the world, and so on.

There are new cast members like Liam Hemsworth, but mostly the film consists of the actors from the original who never did anything better than this bullshit.

Thus, Jeff Goldblum is back, as is Judd Hirsch as his father.  Bill Pullman is back though I wish he wasn’t because I feel like it was just yesterday that I saw him in Spaceballs as Lone Star and now he’s old as f%&k.

And in general, that’s my main complaint.  Will Smith didn’t return, I assume, because the studio didn’t want to shell out the cash now that he’s a big box office draw (you might remember the original Independence Day plus Men in Black made Will a celebrity icon.)

So Will is nowhere to be found.  But everyone without anything better to do is back, and they are all old as shit, which makes me feel old as shit.

I literally think this movie was made for the sole purpose of making me feel old as shit.

HOLLYWOOD SUIT 1 – Should we make a sequel to Independence Day?

HOLLYWOOD SUIT 2 – Yes! It will make BQB feel old as shit!

There are many references to the original, shit that you probably wouldn’t get unless you saw the first one (and also if you’re a nerd like me who has seen it a few more times over the years so you remember what happened.)

The aliens are still slapping Bill Pullman’s face up against the glass and speaking through him as if he’s their puppet (I assume they got the idea by watching Hillary work Bill).

Jeff and Judd are still the unlikely father/son hero duo, except Judd’s still alive which is surprising as I thought he was old as shit twenty years ago.

Eat your Wheaties kids and you too can aspire to Judd Hirsch’s longevity!

Robert Loggia has a quick cameo though I think it might have been a CGI Loggia.  Someone tell me if you have the details on that one.

Oh and Brent Spiner (aka Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation) is back as the eccentric Dr. Brakish Okun.

The plot is basically the same bullshit about aliens invading and their invasion happens to be coincidentally timed on Independence Day so Americans can feel very patriotic while watching a movie about Americans defeating aliens on the same day that the British were told to go pound sand.

Although, I have to point out, some Hollywood suit must have decided this sequel didn’t have the gusto to put butts in seats on the Fourth of July, seeing as how it was released in June.

You’ll know this franchise has hit the wall when they release an Independence Day sequel that hits theaters in January.

Oh and FYI – there will be another sequel.  It will also be unnecessary and serve as little more than a reminder that 20 years have passed, your life sucks more than you thought it would and the world doesn’t even have flying cars.

Shit. Stop remaking 90s shit, Hollywood.

Next you’ll tell me there’s a Mallrats TV show in the works.

Wait? What?

STATUS: Semi-shelf worthy. The effects are worth a trip to the theater. Otherwise, if you miss it, you didn’t miss much.

 

 

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Votentate – The Mighty Potentate for President

Standby for a Transmission from the Mighty Potentate…

…SCANNING….SCANNING…ACQUIRING CONTROL OF THE BOOKSHELF BATTLE BLOG…

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Attention pitiful humans, for it is I, the Mightiest of Potentates.

I have taken control of this miserable excuse for a blog to address two points:

1) Bookshelf Q. Battler, the Chosen One, continues to dilly dally in his assignment to produce a novel so well-written that it convinces you all to abandon the most wretched of all human art forms, “reality television.”  You must continue to pester him to no end to finish his novel or else Earth will be invaded and turned into an intergalactic drive-thru delicatessen.

2) It has come to my attention that this your country known as the United States of America is choosing its leader.

I have reviewed the candidates:

  • Both are very, very old. Older than the deepest, darkest black hole in the entire universe. Entire empires have risen and fallen during their existences. Note that to my species, they are mere babes. But to humans, they are older than dirt. They roamed the Earth during the time of the dinosaurs, the beings that did a much better job of running your planet, in my opinion.
  • One wears some type of wounded animal on his head. The other has enough pantsuits to fill a Lane Bryant warehouse. (What is a Lane Bryant warehouse? I do not know what this means. My advisor, Alien Jones, told me pitiful humans  would find this amusing.)
  • Both are very ego driven, as all Earth politicians are. Frankly, as all intergalactic politicians are. The male has built many tacky towers in his name. The female has siphoned enough money through her power and influence to choke a horse.
  • As a pitiful human, you might argue that I, the Mighty Potentate, am ego driven. I am. I have built many monuments to myself. And if you had conquered and civilized as many systems as I have, you’d be able to build many monuments to yourself, Earth loser.

In short, neither candidate is suitable, and thus, as the ruler of all I survey, I command you to write in “The Mighty Potentate” on your pathetic ballots this November.

I understand you American Humans are a particularly inquisitive bunch, which is a concept I don’t fully grasp as I am not used to having to explain myself.

Just ask any alien under my command:

WHAT A POLITICAL DEBATE LOOKS LIKE IN THE WORLD OF THE MIGHTY POTENTATE:

The Mighty Potentate commands me to do X.  Should I:

A) Do X and not be vaporized.

B) Do X and not be vaporized.

C) Refuse to do X and be vaporized (Report to the vaporization chamber immediately if you select this choice.)

But very well. I shall abide by your Earth customs and answer your questions about the issues:

QUESTION #1 Mighty Potentate, if elected president, how would you fix the economy?

Vaporization.

QUESTION #2 – What?

All must be useful and productive or be vaporized. Next question, pitiful human.

QUESTION #3 – Free trade has been brought up a great deal in this election.  How would you secure the best trade deals to make America competitive in the global market?

Vaporization. Purchase our products at the prices of our choosing or become vapor.

QUESTION #4 – I’m beginning to see a pattern here. The possibility of a war is always a concern for the person who holds the oval office. As President, how would you avoid war?

Vaporization. Stop pitching so many softballs, pitiful human.

QUESTION #5 – Vaporization again?

Indeed. All will hail the Mighty Potentate or be vaporized.

QUESTION # 6 – When you say “vaporize” what exactly do you mean?

I have conquered most of the Universe by perfecting vaporization technology. Through my various vaporization devices, I can turn anyone or anything into a fine mist that quickly dissipates into nothingness.

QUESTION 7 – Right. Moving on. Health care has been in the news lately…

Vaporize the sick. They only slow our operations down.

QUESTION 8 – Do I dare ask about crime?

All will obey the laws of the Mighty Potentate or be vaporized.

QUESTION 9 – Taxes?

Everything belongs to the Mighty Potentate. Render it unto to me or…

QUESTION 10 – Be vaporized. We get it.  What about free speech?

All are free to speak praises of the Mighty Potentate. It is mandatory to do so five times an hour or be vaporized.

QUESTION 11 – What if people don’t want to be vaporized?

Then they will be vaporized.

QUESTION 12 – But how can they protest being vaporized if they’ve been vaporized?

Person-who-wants-to-be-vaporized-says-what?

CONCLUSION:

There you have it, pitiful humans. I am the Mighty Potentate, the only candidate willing to harness the power of vaporization to solve all your problems.

Vote Potentate. Better yet, Votentate.

Paid for by the Committee to Elect the Mighty Potenate or Be Vaporized

 

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Daily Discussion with BQB – Should Scientists Make Chimeras?

Good morning 3.5 readers.

BQB here with another daily discussion.

Chimeras. They’ve been in the news lately.

Not gonna lie. Up until now I thought they only existed in that video game, Resistance, about an alternate World War II in which the US fought human/animal monsters.

But nope. Various news outlets are reporting that scientists are indeed working on making part-human/part-animal embryos.

“Chimera” is a word from Greek mythology, used to denote a part animal/part human.

Scientists claim in various stories I have read, such as this one from NPR that this effort isn’t being done in the hopes of creating some kind of awful animal man, but rather, to study diseases, learn about ways to improve health, and perhaps even be able to grow human organs inside of animals that can be harvested for terminally ill human patients.

But the experiments are controversial, so much so that the National Institutes of Health have ceased funding them until the issue can be studied more, according to the above article.

Personally, I’m suspicious of everyone and everything. I can already see my nemesis, Dr. Hugo Von Science, using this research to raise his own army of pig men, goat men, horse men, dog men, cat men and elephant men to conquer the world.

On the other hand, the idea that I could keep a pig in the back yard with some extra organs in case I need one is intriguing.

It’d have to be an actual pig. If it were a pig man then I’d feel bad.

What say you, 3.5 readers? Yay or nay on chimeras?

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Daily Discussion with BQB – Are We Alone in the Universe?

Good morning 3.5 readers.

Are we alone in the universe, or does alien life exist?

I think it does. It has to. Space is so ridiculously enormous.

The problem is that space travel is filled with so many problems that it isn’t as easy as just hopping in a space ship and traveling around the universe the way they do it in the movies.

Interstellar was probably the most realistic attempt at portraying deep space travel that we have seen in a movie.

It takes too long. Time occurs differently and so on.

But I think space is so vast and there are so many planets that there has to be intelligent life out there.

It is possible that those aliens are douches that would take us over.

In fact, the Mighty Potentate has declared he will take over Earth if I don’t get my novel written.

And Alien Jones is also real so I suppose he’d be offended by the suggestion that he isn’t.

But I think what’s more likely is that there are aliens like us – beings that do mundane, trivial things.

There are probably aliens that have television shows, movies, they go to work and live boring average lives.  Some of them may even be nerd aliens who write blogs for 3.5 alien readers.

There would be cultural differences. We’d have things they’d never heard of.  They’d have stuff we’ve never heard of. But on the whole, we’d probably have a lot in common.

Battlestar Galactica was an attempt to portray this.  Humans lived on (was it twelve?) planets and they had lives similar to ours…but they also had inventions, ideas and customs that were different.

Are aliens (besides AJ and MP, who are a given)  out there?  If they are, do we want to meet them?

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Happy Star Wars Day

By the way, since this is a nerd blog it is imperative that I wish you all a Happy Star Wars Day.

Maythe4thBeWithYou nerds

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Literary Classics with Professor Nannerpants – An Introduction

Good Day 3.5 Readers.

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Professor Horatio J. Nannerpants – Esteemed Literary Scholar/Poop Flinger

In the first year of this ridiculous blog, Bookshelf Q. Battler took on the role of a cool, hip online literary lecturer, educating his 2.5 readers (his stats weren’t as high then) about classic novels and poetry in a fun manner.

In year two, he turned the blog into a chronicle of his life as a magic bookshelf caretaker/yeti fighter/human selected by an alien despot to change the world through his writing.

Personally, I found that change to be tres blasé and ever so derivative. If I had a nickel for every blog about a magic bookshelf caretaker/yeti fighter/human selected by an alien despot to change the world through his writing I’d be a fabulously wealthy simian.

Now in year three, BQB has turned his attention yet again to actually writing a novel in an effort to appease the Mighty Potentate.  Occasionally, when he is unable to think what his novel characters should do next, he writes top ten lists implying your significant others are all manner of horrible abominations and helps his staff of malcontent columnists spread their ridiculous opinions.

Ironically, BQB has found that his first year posts are the most searchable, most likely by high school or college English students writing papers about the classics.

(And between you, me and the four walls, 3.5 readers, if any of these kids are citing Bookshelf Q. Battler in their papers and getting A’s then I weep for the state of our education system.)

Ahh, but I do drone on, don’t I? This is where I come in.

Have you ever heard of the old saying that if you were to lock a thousand chimpanzees in a room filled with typewriters, one of the chimps would eventually produce a clean, error free copy of Hamlet?

I am that chimp.

It all began as an experiment at the Advanced Science Institute of Science University.  BQB, literary lover that he was, was studying under the esteemed Dr. Hugo Von Science (they were still friends in those pre-East Randomtown Zombie Apocalypse days.)

As part of a research project, BQB rounded up a thousand lab chimps, locked us in a room with a thousand typewriters and over the course of a year, my colleagues produced:

  • 179,854 pages covered in doody
  • One clean, error free copy of a James Patterson novel.  Ashley Judd and Morgan Freeman were immediately cast for the movie version.
  • One typo laden copy the collective works of Digital Underground. “The Fumpty Fance is Your Fance to Do the Fump.” Oh chimps, you try so hard and yet you fail, for there can only be one Humpty Hump.

And finally, I was the first chimpanzee in the history of the world to prove the assertion true.

I typed a clean, error free copy of William Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

And then I smeared it with my doody.

BQB got an A+ for his project.  Dr. Hugo had other plans for me.

Curious about my abilities, the mad scientist performed all manner of tests on my brain.

Dr. Hugo wanted to know if it was possible to educate a chimpanzee.

So he hooked my head up to electrodes and forced me to watch PBS for three weeks straight.

So many documentaries.  So many British TV shows.  So much Masterpiece Theater.

During a storm, an errant thunderbolt zapped the Science Institute, sending a current to the electrodes, which in turn, shocked me.

This left me with the ability of speech….in a British accent.

I used my newfound skill to plead for my freedom with Dr. Hugo but he would not have it.

Bookshelf Q. Battler proved to be kinder and when the coast was clear, he left my cage door open.

For many years, I traveled the world, experiencing all that I could.

Highlights include:

  • Climbing Mount Everest.  What a waste of time.  There’s nothing to see up there.
  • Visiting my friends and family in the jungle.  Alas, Thomas Wolfe was right when he said you can never go home again. All those chimps wanted to do was laugh and throw their poop. Sure, it’s fun for the first five minutes but after that I’m the only one who wants to talk about the collective works of Lord Byron.
  • I was briefly a member of Congress.  I had to quit because everyone there was better at poop flinging than I was. (I’m not even joking.)

And finally, by donning a disguise, and holding myself out as a hirsute little person from London,  I was able to convince a renowned university to accept me as a student of literature.

There I stayed for many years, immersed in my love of the written word, obtaining a doctorate I used to obtain a position as a professor of the classics at the same aforementioned institution.

Note that I haven’t said which one as I continue to hold this position and I don’t wish to be outed as a chimpanzee. I think I’m safe though as only 3.5 individuals read this blog.

Long story short, BQB would like to continue to put his stat counter on the rise by increasing this blog’s search ability amongst students in their late teens to early twenties who stayed up all night smoking refer and playing video games and need to whip up a last minute paper about Longfellow in order to do their parents proud by pulling down a C-.

Under my alternative name, I have written articles in the world’s premiere academic journals.  Thus, I loathe the idea of having my work appear in a poorly studied blog.

Yet, I do owe BQB a favor for helping me escape.

Naturally, I won’t use my nom de plume so I will use the name I was given back when I was but a lowly lab chimp.

Horatio J. Nannerpants.

Yes. Based on the filthy stereotype that chimpanzees love…excuse me I have to finish this banana.

Oh…oh yes! Oh sweet, sweet curved yellow potassium stick! You are better that hot sweaty chimpanzee sex!

Pardon me.  Where was I?

Oh yes. Class in now in session, aspiring literary scholars.

And by the way.

That’s Professor Nannerpants to you.

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I am Postless

Hey 3.5 Readers.

I have nothing witty to say today, so I think I will chill out in BQB HQ with the whole crew instead.  Video Game Rack Fighter. Alien Jones. Bookshelf Q. Battledog. The Magic Bookshelf Characters.  Uncle Hardass. Nerdstradamus. Search Engine Optimized Poet. Vinny Baggadouchio, Motivational Speaker.

My, how my circle of nerd friends has grown in 2 plus years of blogging.

In the meantime, I’d love your comments and feedback on How the West Was Zombed – good, bad or indifferent.  65,000 words in and I think I will most likely finish a first draft of a book for the first time this year.

Also, are you looking forward to Game of Thrones this Sunday? I know I am.  Tell me what you’re looking forward to.

Finally, for no good reason, here is surveillance footage of Alien Jones on the can. Why he was there, I don’t know, because he doesn’t even poop. Maybe he was just testing out a human custom.

Don’t share this photo around though because the media on his home planet will have a field day and then he will never be able to become the next Mighty Potentate.

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Top Ten Warning Signs Your Boyfriend Might Be a Mad Scientist

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It’s the discipline that provides the answers to our most vexing questions about the world we live in. Ironically, with every question scientists answer, new inquiries pop up every day.

Most scientists are reputable members of the community, dedicated to following strict rules and procedures.

However, there are some scientists who dare to dabble in the depths of depravity that few are willing to tread.

As part of his penance for “accidentally” causing a zombie outbreak in East Randomtown last summer, Dr. Hugo Von Science has assisted the Bookshelf Battle Blog in creating this list of the Top Ten Warning Signs Your Boyfriend Might Be a Mad Scientist:

10. Foreplay consists of him dropping his pants and shouting, “IT’S ALIVE…IT’S ALIVE!”

9.  His home decor consists of:

  • Beakers filled with foaming potions, bubbling brews, and other strange concoctions.
  • Giant switches that require you to strain yourself just to flip.
  • Tesla coils. So many tesla coils.

8.  Wears a white lab coat everywhere.  Dinner? Lab coat. The opera? Lab coat. The lab? Lab coat.

7. Never takes his goggles off, even when his eyes aren’t in danger of being stabbed, exploded, poisoned, scratched, electrocuted, or otherwise harmed. You’ve never even seen his eyes before because he was wearing those goggles when you met him.

6. Hobbies include: snorkeling, horseback riding…and threatening world leaders to turn over their treasuries to him lest the world be destroyed by his latest invention.

5.  He borrowed your credit card. This month’s bill includes charges for:

  • Giant moon laser base
  • Enormous Drill Capable of Reaching Earth’s Core
  • Nuclear Warheads
  • Lab Monkey Food

The moon laser base, enormous drill, and nuclear warheads didn’t strike you as odd but it seemed unusual to you that lab monkey food could be charged to your credit card so easily.

4.  His laugh starts out slowly, quietly. Then it builds…and builds…into a maniacal crescendo.

EXAMPLE:

YOU: And then my co-worker Rachel said, “Forget the giblets, I’ll take the whole turkey!”

YOUR MAD SCIENTIST BOYFRIEND: Ha.  Haha.  Ha ha ha…HA HA…MUAH HA HA HA HA!!!

3.  You’ve grown so accustomed to the sound of explosions coming from your basement that you’re able to sleep right through them.

2.  Has a well-organized brain collection in his lab. Labels include:

  • Monkey brain
  • Sheep brain
  • Cow brain
  • Dog brain
  • Cat brain
  • Caveman brain
  • Alien brain
  • Sasquatch brain
  • Missing Link Brain

NOTE: We don’t want to tell you how to live your life but it is highly suggested that you run if you ever see a jar marked, “Ex-girlfriend brain.”

  1. You came across a file on his desk marked, “Build My Own Girlfriend Project.” Realized that might be how you got here. Come to think of it, you don’t have any memories beyond last Tuesday. Decided not to question it.
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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 80

shutterstock_320226569Gunther walked into the the church to find Doc and the Reverend chatting away, thick as thieves.  The old man noticed the broken chair parts and rope pieces all over the floor.

“Shit,” the deputy said.  “He try to eat you, Rev?”

“No,” the preacher replied.

“Hell with it then,” Gunther said as he took a seat at the table.  “Pour me one of those.”

Miles, a human once more, came in, all wrapped up in his blanket.  It was a bit singed but extra toasty from the fire.   He sat down next to Gunther, who in turn, took the Reverend’s bottle and poured the boy a shot.

The kid stared at it.  “Am I old enough?”

“You killed more zombies today than I did,” Gunther said.  “You’re a man.”

The boy took a sip and instantly sprayed it out of his mouth.  “What the?”

The adults laughed.  “I didn’t say it was tasty,” Gunther said.  “It’ll put hair on your chest all right.”

Gunther pondered that statement then upon remembering that Miles was a werewolf, added, “Not that you need anymore.”

Sarah entered in a daze.  She sat down at the table, making a point to stay far, far away from Doc.  His eyes remained a ghastly sight.

“Miss Sarah,” Gunther said as he poured another shot and slid it towards the bride. “Not that I want to turn you into an alcoholic but if ever there was a time to turn to the booze to help get you through, this might be it.”

“No,” Sarah said as she slid the drink back. “I’ll be seeking penance for the rest of my days for imbibing earlier and I cannot allow myself to sin any further.”

“Suit yourself,” the Reverend said as he helped himself to Sarah’s drink.

“While we are on this subject, Reverend, I must say your behavior throughout this entire ordeal has been less than holy,” the bride said.

The Reverend sighed. “Miss Sarah.  Despite my internal doubts, I have lived a pure life,  a penchant for liquor being my only weakness, one which I have done my best to atone for.  I have helped my fellow man, put many lost souls on the right path and yet here I am, trapped in a zombie infested nightmare.”

Sarah scowled. “I have yet to lose my faith.”

“Are you sure?” the Reverend asked. “Cowering in the corner isn’t exactly a sign of a person who is sure the lord is going to swoop in and save her at any moment.”

Sarah stood up.  “Well, I never!”

“Perhaps you should,” the Reverend said.  “A life of faith has gotten you the same place it has gotten me…nowhere.”

Sarah stomped her foot and stormed off, only to stop abruptly.  “All of my prayers have brought me Rainier Slade,” the bride said.  “The bravest, toughest man in the entire West.  He will see me through this.  I’m sure of it.”

The bride found a pew to sulk in silence in.  The Reverend reached for the bottle only to find Gunther’s hand on his.

“We all got a part to play in this, Rev,” Gunther said. “And a preacher that can’t lift people’s spirits aint of much use to anyone.”

The Reverend’s face flushed with embarrassment.  He put the cork in the bottle. “Duly noted.”

The good doctor felt a hand on his shoulder as the scent of a familiar perfume wafted through his nostrils.

Annabelle had just entered the room and was surprised to see her companion not tied to a chair.

“You’re free and you haven’t bitten anyone,” Annabelle said. 

Doc kissed Annabelle’s hand. “I wouldn’t count yourself safe though, my dear.  You look so ravishing that I should very much like to consume you for breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

Every one at the table let out a collective groan.

“A word?” Doc asked Annabelle. She consented and together they walked toward the open door frame, finding a spot to speak in private.

“Dearest, I must present you with a difficult choice,” Doc said.

Annabelle’s bright eyes were fixated on Doc, waiting for what he had to say next.

“The safest option for you would be to accompany Miss Lassiter and seek refuge with the Indians,” Doc said.  “I haven’t the slightest clue of what my condition will bring and the possibility that I may lose control and attack you is quite real.”

“I’ll take the chance,” Annabelle said. “I won’t leave you.”

“Selfishly, I hoped you would say that,” Doc said. “As I am not welcome in Miss Lassiter’s party due to my condition, I intend to press on eastward.  My Miracle Cure-All may be a failure, but I will still pursue my dream of spreading news of the curative properties of cocaine to the world.  If you come with me, I shall protect you with my dying breath and if we make it to Boston, we will catch a vessel to Britain and begin our new lives together, free of this zombie infested continent once and for all.”

Annabelle’s eyes welled up as she wrapped her arm’s around the doctor.  “Oh Doc.  You had me at cocaine.”

To her surprise, Doc pushed her away.  “But my dear, you must promise one thing.”

“Anything.”

“If I am overcome by my condition and become a wretched beast, you must save yourself and put a bullet directly into my brain.”

Annabelle frowned.  “I couldn’t possibly.”

Doc stepped back.  “Quite understandable.  Very well, my dear.  Then with regret I must insist that we end our courtship at this time…”

“OK!”  Annabelle cried.

“I must hear you promise my dear,” Doc said.

“Fine,” Annabelle said. “I promise to shoot you if you become a zombie.”

“Lovelier words have never been spoken,” Doc said.  “If you’ll excuse me now, I must have a word with the Marshall.”

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 79

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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!”

“Chief?”

“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.

“Eagle!!!”

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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