Tag Archives: vampire

The Return of Count Krakovich, Incompetent Vampire


Bleh!  I vant to suck your blood, 3.5 readers…bleh, but I don’t want to do a lot of work so bleh, bleh please just lay your necks down and make some holes in them with your necks so I can just slurp out the blood and then…

Bleh! Where are you going?  It sure is hard being a lazy, incompetent, asshat vampire.  In fact, you might have noticed that this year my name has been changed from Asshat Vampire to Incompetent Vampire.

Anyway 3.5 readers, I do like to check in with you all once a Halloween.  How have you all been?  I hope you have all been murdering many vampires because I hate those guys ever since they kicked me out of the League of Vampires.

I wish I had more to say but I have been a very depressed vampire as of late.  In fact I think I might just quit being a vampire.  Is that even possible?  Someone contact a vampire lawyer and let me know.

That’s it.  I am even incompetent at writing columns.  Happy Halloween 3.5 losers.  Bleh!

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#31WaysToDefeataVampire – Way #30 – Fun Sized Candy Bars

By: Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire



Don’t you hate it when you think you’re going to get a big ass candy bar but instead you get a teeny tiny candy bar instead?

“Oh it’s fun sized! This pathetic little candy bar is so much fun!”

Bleh, let me tell you, that is some Don Draper Madison Avenue Mad Men Peggy Olsen bullshit right there. “Fun Size” was invented so that candy companies could sell shit tons of candy during the Halloween season and while I haven’t done the math in my vampiric brain, I’m willing to bet that when you buy one of those bags of fun sized candy bars, they’re selling you less chocolate for more money.

Bleh! I’m so angry I’m bleh-ing all over the place. I’m too lazy to do the math. One of you nerds, go analyze the square footage of the average amount of chocolate in a bag of fun sized candy bars, compare it to an equal amount of regular, non-fun sized candy bar chocolate, then do a price comparison, carry the four, add the denominator, multiply times PI and then tell me if I’m full of vampire shit or if I’m onto something, bleh.

“Oh look at me, I have a regular big sized candy bar and it is so boring I wish I had a tiny candy bar then it would be fun.”

You know what’s worse? One of those assholes who can actually just eat one piece of fun sized candy. Because you know the rest of us whales are inhaling so many pieces of the fun sized candy that we’re probably eating the equivalent of a dozen regular, boring size candy bars.

And that’s how they get you! Because when the candy is small, then you shovel it in your stupid cake hole and then you eat all the candy even though you never would have eaten a dozen regular boring size candy bars in one sitting because if you did then you know you’d have a problem.

So on top of all that, you have to haul your fat chocolate stuffed ass back to the store and buy even more fun size candy because you don’t want to be that one assface in the neighborhood that everyone hates because you don’t have any candy to pass out on Halloween, bleh!

Bleh, just thinking about all this has me feeling defeated. I am a vampire and I have been defeated by candy, bleh.

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#31WaysToDefeataVampire Way #24 – Sunglasses

By: Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire


Cool people wear shades.

If you’re cool, then vampires won’t bite you.

They’ll try to get you to turn voluntarily, but vampires rarely pick on cool people.

You may look uncool despite the shades but the shades will be enough of a speed bump to slow a vampire down and make them look elsewhere.

Bleh. Wear shades.

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Suck you very much.

By: Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire

Bleh! Bleh!  Good evening 3.5 children of the night.

I vant to suck your blood! And it’s 2016 so shit like that is cool now. #Progress

Perhaps you remember me from last year, when around this time I, Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire extracted my revenge on the League of Vampires for kicking me out for being an asshat.

So I got a couple hundred of my fangy friends killed through my gross incompetence.

Shit happens.  Am I right?

Last year, I told you just a few ways to defeat a vampire.

Now, this October, I will tell you one way to defeat a vampire every day for thirty-one days.

Bleh! Follow the hashtag on Twitter and Facebook – #31defeatavampire and share your ideas for defeating vampires.

Remember, all vampires are douche faces and I hate them all and yes, largely because they won’t let me use the vampire club house anymore so now I have to pay for my own cable.

And really…who pays for cable anymore?

I’m such an asshat.  Bleh.

It all starts Oct. 1 here on this dumb blog.  Read it. You literally have nothing better to do.

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How the West Was Zombed – Parts 1-4



Bookshelf Q. Battler, Blogger-In-Chief

Bookshelf Q. Battler has locked himself away in BQB HQ, tapping away at the keyboard to write, “How the West Was Zombed” the first in what he hopes to be a lucrative series of “Zombie Western” novels, because he lives to make his 3.5 readers happy, and also because he wants to be paid.

But mostly, he’s doing this to satisfy the Mighty Potentate, the evil alien overlord who has charged BQB with writing novels awesome enough to convince the masses to abandon reality television, which the Mighty Potentate despises greatly.


All Hail the Mighty Potentate.

If you like it or hate it, either way, give BQB your feedback.  Your comments help BQB improve his writing and we need BQB to become a better writer so that he can write a book that will save the world from a takeover by the Mighty Potentate.

PART 1 – The Stand

Marshal Rainier Slade, a genuine stoic who’d prefer to shoot a fella as soon as look at him, is the only man in Highwater willing to face the dastardly Buchanan Boys.  Reluctantly, he’s joined by his elderly deputy Gunther and the fast talking snake oil salesman Doctor Elias T. Faraday, who thinks the move would be good publicity.

When a misunderstanding occurs between Slade and Standing Eagle, Chief of a nearby Native American tribe, the Chief translates as his shaman, Wandering Snake, delivers an ominous curse.

Part 2 – Werewolves and Women

Miss Bonnie, owner, proprietor, and prostitute-in-charge of the Bonnie Lass, is the only woman, nay, the only person alive that Slade is willing to come out of his shell for.  The rest of the time, he puts on a raspy voice, angry faced persona to the world, figuring that’s the only way for a lawman to survive.

The Marshal fumbles a proposal but still makes it clear that he’d like a relationship with Miss Bonnie.  She declines, only to rethink that decision when Slade defends her honor.

Slade finds a new love interest in Sarah Farquhar, a widow who has just moved to town after purchasing a large stretch of farmland.  The Widow Farquhar doesn’t hesitate in pursuing Slade as Miss Bonnie did, but she’s not perfect.  Slade continues to yearn for Miss Bonnie and has concerns about the Widow’s bible thumping ways, her decree that all sexual activity occur through a hole in a bed sheet in particular.

The Marshal throws caution to the wind and successfully proposes to the Widow Farquhar, only to learn Miss Bonnie has the hots for him too late.

Meanwhile, former slave turned werewolf Joseph Freeman and his teenage son, Miles, also a werewolf, arrive in town.  Joseph is looking for work and takes a job assisting Slade and Gunther watch the Buchanan Boys until Judge Sampson arrives to conduct their trial.

All the while, strange reports of monsters are afoot.

Part 3 – The Trial

Judge Sampson, a by the book jurist who’d hang his own mother for stealing a piece of candy, is about to sentence the Buchanan Boys to their doom at the end of a rope when a newcomer arrives in his courtroom.

“Simple country lawyer” Henry Alan Blythe displays a supernatural ability to get people to submit to his will.  He convinces the Judge to let the Buchanan Boys off the hook.

Enraged at the injustice, Slade turns in his star.  Gunther does so as well out of loyalty, though less forcefully as concerns about ripping his vest get in the way.

Part 4 – History Repeats Itself

Joe Freeman’s past haunts him again and again and his longstanding feud with Blythe is about to come to a head.

Blythe, a villainous vampire/counsel for the Legion Corporation’s board of vampire directors, has dreamed up a scheme to conquer the United States with a zombie army that responds to his will.

But the board’s bureaucratic maneuvering threatens to throw his plan off the rails.  His bosses want him to toy with Slade and Freeman, rather than kill them outright.


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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 30



History has an uncanny way in which it repeats itself. Eleven years had passed since Joe discovered the monster that dwelled within him. For a time, he found money. Happiness. Success. A wife. A son. A home.

Alas, when he found himself in the middle of a dank, dark dungeon, his hands and feet bound to a stone table by silver chains, he began to realize that compared to his new master, Lorante had been a teetotaler.

An iron door opened and two werewolves lumbered in, their heads just barely scraping the ceiling. Blythe stepped into the room as merry as could be, as if he were off to a stroll in a park and not a torture session.

Joe struggled but the silver burned his skin. The more he moved, the worse it got.

Blythe looked down and wagged a finger in his captive’s face. “Bad dog. Bad, bad dog.”

The counselor turned to one of his wolves. “Mr. Hewett, have at it.”

Hewett dragged his claws across Joe’s chest, forcing the prisoner to cry out in pain. Then as quickly as Joe’s wound was made, it was gone. Nothing but bare skin remained.

“Joseph, I had a soul once,” Blythe said. “I can remember what it was like to be in the terrible position of caring. ‘Waah I want love. Waah I don’t like being sad. Waah I don’t want to kill anyone.’”

Blythe nodded at Hewett. A hot blast of air shot out of Hewett’s snout as he slashed Joe’s stomach again, producing even more agony.

“I blame myself for this, Joseph,” Blythe said. “Really, I do. I trained you poorly.  Somehow, you thought the only thing your new position required of you was to just stand around and keep me safe.”

Blythe chucked. “And somehow…you got the silly idea in your head that my orders are optional. Again, Mr. Hewett.”

Another slash. Another scream.

“Would you like to tell me what you were thinking?” Blythe asked.

“They were just…people. Innocent people,” Joe said.

Another wag of the finger from Blythe. “That’s that pesky soul of yours talking. You see them as people and I see them as blood bags. And not just any blood bags. Excellent physical specimens. Good health and breeding. Procured at some expense for the board of directors’ pleasure and you just opened up their cell doors and let them walk away.”

Splat. A giant loogie hit Blythe right in the face. Hewett took that as an invitation to slash the prisoner again.

“Just kill me and get it over with,” Joe said.

Blythe wiped the spit off his face with a handkerchief. “If it were up to me I would let you off so easily but I have a board of directors to answer to and our chairman is a real bastard in particular. Mr. Becker, if you please.”

Becker ducked his furry head under the door frame and left the room.

“Have you ever read the works of Plato, Joseph?” Blythe asked.

“Is that a trick question?” Joe replied.

“Not at all,” Blythe said. “I never read them myself but that’s only because I had the chance to listen to him speak about them in person. He theorized that there were three classes of people: gold, silver, and bronze.”

Hewett, used to his boss’s tendency to prattle on, leaned up against the wall to rest.

“The gold class, they’re the thinkers. The politicians. The business tycoons. The big picture people,” Blythe said. “The silver class, they protect the world that the golds create and the bronze? They’re the lowly grunts who do the work that’s beneath the silver and gold.”

“I wish I could kill myself just so I wouldn’t have to listen to you anymore,” Joe said.

“The humans follow this system,” Blythe said. “And evil follows this system as well. At the very bottom of our food chain is the pathetic zombie. No soul. No brains. Mindless instruments of destruction who just bite and eat and destroy whatever is in their way. They’re ultimately useless until given some direction.”

Blythe pointed to the silver chains. “You’re a silver, Joseph. An unfortunate analogy seeing as what silver actually does to beings like us but an apt one just the same. Werewolves have been tasked with the noble duty of guarding the property of vampires since the dawn of time. We don’t ask you to think. We just ask you to do.”

The counselor stroked his hand through Joe’s hair just as one would a well-behaved puppy.

“Did I not take care of you, Joseph?” Blythe asked. “Provide you with a generous wage? Raise you to a higher station in life? And did I not protect you from those humans who’d protest that your shade of color disqualifies you from either? There is no one else on this planet who could have offered you the life I did and you thanked me by making me look like a fool in front of the board.”

Joe stared at the ceiling, praying for a swift resolution.

Becker returned with Lydia slung over his shoulder. He set her down. This time around, she was very, very scared.

Joe wrenched at the chains but that only made him scream. “HOW?!”

Blythe grinned. “Thought you hid her from me did you? Oh Joseph, the eyes, as they say, truly are the window to the soul and once you allowed me to look into yours I knew your achilles’ heal was your family.”

Lydia shrieked as Blythe pulled her body close to his. The counselor opened his mouth and hissed like a snake as two sharp fangs popped out. He used them to bite open a vein in his wrist.

“Henry, please,” Joe said. “This is between us. She did nothing to you. Let her go.”

“The board has already made a ruling, Joseph,” Blythe said as his blood dripped all over Lydia’s dress. “I am but a cog in a greater machine.”

The vampire wrapped his hand around Lydia’s mouth.

“Open,” Blythe said.

Lydia struggled and then relented. Drip…drip…drip went the vampire blood down her throat.

Joe lost control and yanked at the chains with all his might, the silver searing into his flesh.

“Your love and I are bonded now,” Blythe said. “A greater connection exists between us for my blood flows in her veins. It calls out to me, yearning for my guidance. My direction. My control.”

Joe’s eyes turned yellow. The beast fought to take over his body but the silver chains held it at bay.

“Of course,” Blythe said. “She’s burdened by that pesky soul of hers that tells her not to listen to me so let’s relieve her of that, shall we?”

A shot rang out, smashing its way through Lydia’s heart. Once she fell to the ground, Blythe set a smoking revolver down on a small table.

Had any humans been in the room, Joe’s roar would have popped their eardrums.

“Oh enough of the theatrics,” Blythe said. “Her soul’s in a much better place.”

Joe couldn’t see it but he could hear Lydia grown. Then she snarled. Ever so slowly, she rose to her feet. Her eyes were blank white, the retinas completely gone. Her movements were mechanical.  She had become a gruesome automaton.

Unsure of her steps, Lydia walked like a toddler towards Joe, then sunk her teeth into her husband’s shoulder. She snapped off a piece of flesh and devoured it, blood dripping from her lips. Joe’s flesh grew back immediately.

“I can’t be damned twice,” Joe said. “You killed her for nothing! NOTHING!”

“Did I?” Joe asked. “Mr. Becker.”

The werewolf henchman exited the room. Lydia moved into Joe’s neck for another bite but Blythe stretched out his hand in a “stop” motion.

“Down girl,” Blythe commanded.

Lydia instantly complied and stood quietly, staring at the wall.

Becker returned with little Miles wrapped up in his paw. The boy was merely five years old and petrified for his life. He was set on the floor and he immediately scurried underneath the table his father was laid out on.

“Please,” Joe said, reduced to sobbing. “Just kill me.”

“If I had any emotions I’d sympathize with you Joseph,” Blythe said. “I truly would.”

Blythe stared at the bullet in his hand. It was remarkably shiny. A glint of candlelight bounced off of it. The vampire loaded it into the pistol then set it on the smaller table by the door.

“I’ll let you figure this out,” Blythe said. “The bullet’s silver in case you’d like to take personal responsibility for what you’ve done and call it quits. If not, well, you know what to do. The board has declared that either your head or hers will be sufficient to consider your debt repaid.”

Hewett and Becker got in front of their boss and formed one gigantic hairy wall of protection. Blythe reached for a lever on the wall, yanked it down, and Joe was released.

Joe lept from the table and charged at his captors.

Blythe snapped his fingers. “Feed at will, dear,” was his last order to Lydia.

Hewett backhanded Joe to the ground and the trio escaped, locking the iron door behind them.

Joe stood up to find the undead body of the woman  he loved on the floor, desperately clawing her hand underneath the table, attempting to snatch a crying Miles.

“Lydia,” Joe said.

Lydia waved her arm under the table furiously.

“Miles,” Joe said.


“Stop…” Joe caught his breathe. “Stop that crying now. Mama’s just playing a game with you.”

“She is?” Miles asked.

“Yes,” Joe said.

“Silly Mama,” Miles said. The boy sniffed and the crying stopped. “What are we playing?”

Joe grabbed Lydia by the waist and pulled her away from the table but like a wild animal she kicked and growled.


It was no use. She wrestled herself out of Joe’s grip and dove to the bottom of the table again, the boy’s delicious flesh the only thing on her mind.

Joe grabbed the revolver. “Hide and seek,” Joe told Miles.

“I’m losing,” Miles said. “Mama keeps finding me.”

“I know,” Joe said as he pulled Lydia away again. She shrieked and waled, digging her nails into Joe’s sides and ripping her teeth into the arm he used to hold her with.

“You just have to try harder,” Joe said. “Close your eyes and count to ten.”

The little boy’s voice counted. “One…two…three…”

“Stick your fingers in your ears and sing a song,” Joe said.

Lydia’s teeth cut Joe’s arm all the way to the bone. He fought through it as he raised the revolver to his wife’s temple.

“Then she’ll hear me and find me!” Miles said.

“Nah,” Joe replied. “Mama’s sneaky. She’ll ask you where you are and if you can’t hear then you can’t tell her.”

“Oh,” Miles said. “Row row row your boat…”

Joe kissed his wife on the cheek. She snapped her teeth at his face.

“I love you,” Joe said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Joe pulled the trigger. The shot tore through Lydia’s brain and her undead body went limp. Gently, Joe laid her down on the table he’d been held on. He wolfed out, punched the iron door off its hinges, then morphed back into human form.

Miles was still singing. “…merrily merrily merrily…”

Joe picked up Lydia and carried her in his arms. He walked out of the room, down a dimly lit hallway, and found another cell. He laid his wife down again, then returned to collect his son.

He reached under the table and pulled Miles out.

“Where’s Mama?” Miles asked as Joe grabbed the boy by the hand and led him down the hallway.

“Her turn to hide now,” Joe said. “She’s hiding pretty good so I think it’ll be awhile before we find her.”

“Oh,” Miles said. “Why are you naked?”

“Lost my pants,” Joe said.

“I lose mine sometimes too,” Miles said. “Mama always finds ‘em for me. She’s a good Mama.”

“Yeah,” Joe said. “Yeah she is.”

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How the West Was Zombed – A Note on Chapter 30



Hello 3.5 Readers.

Chapter 29 had a note and Chapter 30 has a note too.

As I’ve said before, I’m not an outliner, I’m a pantser.  I have a general idea of the story in my head and I’m not sure where it will go until I set fingers to keyboard.

So if you’re offended, please know I never really intended to write a scene in which a woman is zombified and then tries to eat her young son and her husband is faced with the Sophie’s choice of having to either shoot his zombified wife in the head or allowing his son to be eaten but…hey…the story goes where the story goes.

Really, it’s the story’s fault not mine.  As the evil Blythe said before and is about to say again, “I’m just a cog in a much larger machine.”

But hey…30 chapters and roughly 25,000 words in and there’s a zombie.  So there’s that.

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How to Defeat a Vampire – Anti-Glamour Tactics

By:  Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampireshutterstock_115841497 copy

Bleh!  Look into my eyes, 3.5 readers!

You are getting sleepy.  Very sleepy.  You want to do my bidding.  You want to be my obedient slave.

You want to give me your Netflix password.

Seriously, give me your Netflix password.  Vampires like House of Cards too.

Bleh!  Why are you laughing?  No wonder the Vampire League ousted me.  I can’t even glamour the 3.5 devotees of a substandard book blog.

But rest assured, other vampires are better at the ancient art of vampire hypnosis, better known as “glamouring” and if you’re not careful, you will become a vampire’s puppet.

Here are some tips to avoid being glamoured.

#1 – BE UGLY 

Look, let’s face it.  If you’re a vampire with glamouring powers, you’re going to go after the hotties.  I know.  It’s politically incorrect.  The bloodsucking damned should go after the less attractive as well but vampires aren’t called evil for nothing.

If you’re hot, chances are, a vampire is going to try to glamour you.

Meanwhile, the uglier you are, the statistical probability of succumbing to a vampire’s will declines dramatically.

So if you look like Gollum from Lord of the Rings, rejoice!  Your chances of becoming a vampire slave are about .0001 %.

“But Count Krakovich,” you say.  “I’m not ugly.  I’m relatively adorable.  How can I deflect a vampire’s hypnotic eyes?”


Aviators.  Ray-Bans.  They don’t even have to be shades.  X-Ray specs will also do.

But what if a vampire catches you when you don’t have your sunglasses?


Glamouring takes intense mental concentration.  So if you feel yourself being glamoured, tell a joke immediately.  If you don’t know a joke, make a fart noise.  Forget rules of etiquette and decorum.  A vampire is trying to make you his bitch!  Fart away!


Like any debauched individual, vampires love to cruise the club scene.  If you’re hanging out at places where depravity goes down, i.e. establishments with names like The Flesh Factory or The Butt Barn or Bill Cosby’s Trailer, then the odds of running into a glamour happy vampire are high.

Also, drunkenness makes it that much easier for a vampire to work his twisted mojo on you.  Switch to O’Doul’s.  You’ll be a dud at the party, but you won’t be a vamp snack either.


If you’re hot, and not funny, and refuse to make fart noises, and can’t keep yourself out of dirty clubs, then the only recourse you have left is to walk backwards for the rest of your life and never face anyone ever again.  Put a set of Groucho glasses on the back of your head and attempt to convince everyone your back is your front.  It will be a difficult life for sure, but you never know who might be a vampire, so you’ll have to treat everyone as a potential bloodsucker (which, let’s face it, in today’s day and age, is just sound advice anyway.)

Thank you, 3.5 readers.  Take the knowledge I’ve given you and go forth!  Defeat those lousy vampires who dared to disparage the good name of Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire!

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How to Defeat a Vampire – Religion

By: Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampireshutterstock_115775161 copy

Bleh!  Greetings 3.5 children of the night!

I’m back again to extract my revenge on the League of Vampires for forcing me out of their organization just because I made like thirty disastrous mistakes.

Vampires?  Bunch of Douche-pires if you ask me.

So to get back at those losers I’m educating you, the 3.5 readers, on how to defeat vampires.

Today’s lesson?  Religion.

Now, you’re all aware that a crucifix can stop a vampire in its tracks.  A cross held to our skin long enough will burn us, but we usually just hiss loudly and run in the opposite direction whenever we see one, not giving the cross holder the chance to harm us in the first place.

That’s because we vampires are considered abominations in the eyes of God.  Bodies are meant for the living and for the dead to be using one really pisses the Man Upstairs off.

Vampires.  Zombies.  Used car salesmen.  All despised by the Creator.

“But Count Krakovich,” you say.  “I don’t usually wear a crucifix.  I’m not a priest or a stereotypical Italian bookie in a track suit.  Can I still use religion to defeat a vampire?”

Answer:  yes.

First of all, if you’re not a Christian, any other religious symbol will do.  That’s something we vampires like to keep on the down low.

So if you’re a member of the tribe, whip out your Star of David and a vampire will hiss louder than a defective muffler.

Muslim?  Show that vampire a crescent moon.

Scientologist?  Show that bloodsucker the picture of Tom Cruise you keep in your wallet.  Don’t lie.  You know you have one.

Jehovah’s Witness?  Smack that vampire in the face with a rolled up copy of The Watchtower.  Finally, you can do something useful with that magazine other than shoving it into the exhausted hand of that poor bastard you woke up at six a.m. and now he’s standing at his front door in his bathrobe, nodding politely, waiting for your sermon to end so he can deposit your offering into his circular file.

Atheist?  Hmm.  Tricky one.  But belief is belief and as long as your belief in nothing is strong, you should be able to deflect a vampire attack simply by saying, “Have a Nice Day.”

If you believe in nice days, that is.

“But Count Krakovich, I have none of these things!”

That’s ok.  Any of the following will do:

  • Any photo of a Holy Man, from the Pope to Al Sharpton.
  • A bible.  You heathen.  You know have ONE in your house.  Your Grandmother gave you one for your birthday when you were a kid and has been asking you for years if you’ve read it yet and you keep coming up with reasons why you haven’t.  Stop hiding weed in it and read the damn thing.  You’ll learn some choice phrases to use to ward off evil, especially vampires.  Crap if you don’t have one, swipe the free one from the hotel left by the Gideons.
  • Wait.  I’m told stealing a bible cancels its power out.  Don’t steal one.  You will actually have to invest a few bucks to buy one.  It will be worth it when it keeps you from becoming a vampire sorbet.
  • Voo doo is a type of religion, though typically looked at as a form of dark magic.  Treat yourself to a delicious bucket of KFC then save the bones to throw at a vampire in a pinch.  FYI – you will have to become a fully fledged voo doo priest first.
  • Showing the following DVDs to a vampire will cause it to die, not due to the effects of religion, but just from sheer boredom:  Sister Act, Sister Act 2, or Fireproof, that pile of crap put out by Kirk Cameron long after Growing Pains ended and he became a male church lady.
  • The Ten Commandments, either the new one with Christian Bale, or the classic one with Charlton Heston, will hold a vampire back long enough for you to make a run for it.  Absent a copy of either film, you can still channel your best 1930’s gangster impression and shout, “Where’s your messiah now?” a la Edward G. Robinson in the original.  Doing so has no specific power over the vampire per se, but it will make him laugh long enough for you to skeedaddle.
  • Singing the following songs will render a vampire’s powers useless: Amazing Grace, Onward Christian Soliders, and Jesus Walks by Kanye West.  In fact, just hold up your copy of the Yeezus album.  Few are aware that Kanye is the second coming, which is odd, because he informs everyone every chance he gets.

Take my advice and you can’t go wrong against those jerk face vampires, 3.5.  So gather as many religious accouterments as you can get your hands on and take out those vamps for me, your new pal, Count Krakovich, Asshat Vampire.

Attorney Donnelly reminds readers to please not steal those hotel bibles.  The last thing BQB needs is a lawsuit from the Gideons shoved up his butt.

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Previously on Bookshelf Battle…August 2014 Wrap Up

In honor of the end of the True Blood HBO Series (based on the Sookie Stackhouse Novels by Charlaine Harris):

BILL and SOOKIE sit at a booth at Merlotte’s.

BILL:  Soo-keh.  Soo-keh.  Listen to how I pronounce your name prominently in the manner of a Southern gentleman.

SOOKIE:  That don’t mean no thang Bill.  I still ‘aint decided whether I love you or Eric or Alcide.  Actually, I sure ‘nuf reckon I don’t like Alcide even though he’s the only one of y’all that ‘aint tryin to eat me for breakfast.

LAFAYETTE strolls over from the kitchen.

LAFAYETTE:  Mmm mmm, Sookie Stackhouse you look prettier than a basket of buttered biscuits.  Girl, have you been readin’ that Bookshelfbattle.com?  Can you believe that tired old has been ‘aint even written one book review this month?

SOOKIE:  That’s ok Lafayette.  He still tries his best.  And he’s a proponent of literature.  Didn’t you read his <a href=“https://bookshelfbattle.com/2014/08/03/the-poets-battle-the-road-not-taken-robert-frost/”> post about the Road Not Taken by Robert Frost?</a>

LAFAYETTE:  Hooker, please.  You know I don’t look this fabulous by sittin’ around readin’ blog posts about philosophical poetry.

LAFAYETTE snaps his fingers and walks off.  SAM walks over.

SAM:  Hi Sook.  Bill.


SAM’S THOUGHTS:  Geez, I hope Sookie doesn’t realize that I add absolutely nothing to the plot and just serve as yet another man who is in love with her but she refuses to love because she’s only into dudes that keep putting her into danger or try to eat her for breakfast for some strange reason.

SAM hands them some menus and exits.


JASON and JESSICA are under the covers, talking.

JASON:  We ‘aint bad people for cheatin behind Hoyt’s back are we?  What with me bein’ his best friend and you bein’ his girlfriend and all?  Tarnation, I sure do sound like I’m from the South, y’all.

JESSICA:  I think it’s ok.  Hoyt’s like an ancillary character at best.

JASON:  Alright then.  Hush puppies and crawdaddies, I sure do sound like I’m from the South, even though I’m an Australian.

JESSICA:  I still feel bad about it though.  Our affair is as sordid and scandalous as <a href=https://bookshelfbattle.com/2014/08/09/james-patterson-weighs-in-on-amazon-vs-hachette-battle/&#8221;>the ongoing dispute between Amazon and Hachette.</a>

JASON:  Boy howdy, you really crowbarred that one in, didn’t ya’?


PAM:  The other day I clicked on bookshelfbattle.com  – He’s supposed to be reviewing books but instead he’s blabbing on and on like an idiot about  The Simpsons.  Like anyone cares to read about  <a href=https://bookshelfbattle.com/2014/08/24/lyrics-to-tito-puentes-senor-burns/&#8221;>Tito Puente’s Senor Burns Song.</a>

ERIC:  Hi!  I’m Eric Northman!  You might remember me from such historical events as the Vikings’ Dominion over Scandanavia and that time Godrick and I were Nazi werewolf hunters!

PAM:  My God.  You’re not watching that damn Every Simpsons Ever Marathon on FXX are you?

ERIC:  I am!  How the hell else do you expect anyone to find out what channel FXX is on before the Fall shows come rolling in?

PAM:  And I suppose you wasted your time reading that post about <a href=https://bookshelfbattle.com/2014/08/23/hi-im-troy-mcclure/&#8221;>Troy McClure’s filmography?</a>

ERIC:  I did!  And it was delightful!

GINGER walks in.

GINGER:  I think Bookshelfbattle.com sucks.

ERIC stares deeply into her eyes.  The “Someone is Getting Glamored” Music Plays

ERIC:  You do NOT think that bookshelfbattle.com sucks.

GINGER:  I do NOT think that bookshelfbattle.com sucks.

ERIC:  You think it is the best contribution to the literary world ever made.

GINGER:  I do.  The author of bookshelfbattle.com makes Shakespeare look like a pile of crap.

ERIC:  Well, let’s not get carried away here.


ANDY:  Damn it, Holly!  This show has more plot holes than a piece of swiss cheese!

HOLLY:  Now Andy Bellefleur don’t you go gettin’ on the writers’ cases again.  You know they try their best!

ANDY:  How come when some people drink V they act like they go on a big time drug hallucination trip and other times, when people are hurt, they drink it and they don’t trip at all?

HOLLY:  I don’t know.  I guess if you drink vampire blood when you’re hurt then you don’t trip?

ANDY:  Ridiculous.  And that time I pulled that car over and those people were in the back with Sam and I opened the back door and it was Sam shape-shifted into an alligator?  Where’d the other people go?  Sam eat them or something?

HOLLY:  I don’t know.

ANDY:  And all the vampires ever do is try to eat people and then complain about how vampire/human relations will never progress until humans trust them.  How the hell are humans going to trust them when vampires are trying to eat them all the time?

HOLLY:  I suppose it doesn’t make sense.

ANDY:  And Stackhouse joins the force and is instantly my second in command?  Are there no other cops that I can work with?

HOLLY:  I guess sometimes the show gets silly.

ANDY:  And Sam turns into a bug and flies into that lady’s mouth and exploded her from the inside out.  Gratuitous violence if you ask me!

HOLLY:  Yeah, and I suppose that time Bill turned that vampire woman’s head around backwards so he didn’t have to look at her face while they had relations got HBO a few irate phone calls.

ANDY:  And Jessica ate like four of my faerie daughters and then I forgive her five minutes later!

HOLLY:  It’s best not to try to make sense of it.  Just go with the flow.


SOOKIE AND BILL still at the booth.

BILL:  So, you see, Soo-keh, I was assigned to spy on and capture you by the Vampire Queen.

SOOKIE:  So you didn’t love me?

BILL:  Not at first, but then I loved you later.

SOOKIE:  Why did the Queen want me?

BILL:  For your delicious faerie blood – which is what attracted me to you.

SOOKIE:  So you don’t love me?  You just love me for my faerie blood?

BILL:  No, I love you.  Can I have some faerie blood?

SOOKIE:  This is all so gosh darn confusin.’

ANDYand Holly walk in.

ANDY:  Tell me about it.


JASON:  Ok!  So I had sex with 90 waitresses!  They meant nothing to me!  I can’t help it!  I got like a disease or somethin’!

JESSICA:  I don’t give a rat’s ass, Jason!  And to find out about that expression and others, read about the bookshelfbattle.com <a href=https://bookshelfbattle.com/2014/08/22/the-writers-battle-expressions/&#8221;>Expression Challenge!</a>

ANDY:  Please, the bookshelfbattle.com expression challenge was dumber than a box of rocks.

SOOKIE:  That’s true.  That challenge did not cut the mustard.

SAM looks up from the bar.

SAM:  Expression challenge?  Sounds like the best idea since sliced bread…

ANDY:  Enough!

GHOST TARA materializes.

GHOST TARA:  Well, well, well, ‘aint this some shit!  I been nice and friendly to all you white folk for six seasons and what do you do?  Kill me off in the first episode of Season 7 without even showing it!  Shit, before the credits even roll!

ANDY:  Yeah!  That was stupid!  And you know what else is stupid about this show…

LETTIE MAY bursts in.

LETTIE MAY:  My baby Tara!  My baby Tara!  She tryin’ to speak to me!

GHOST TARA:  I’m right here, Mama.

LETTIE MAY:  I can’t hear you, Tara!  I’m tryin’ to find Tara!  Oh, someone give me some drugs!  I need lots of drugs to communicate with Tara!

GHOST TARA:  Right here, Mom.  You don’t need drugs.

LETTIE MAY:  Girl, don’t sass me.  If I say I need drugs to talk to you then I need drugs to talk to you.

LAFAYETTE saunters into the room.  He looks at GHOST TARA and raises the palm of his hand in a “TALK TO THE HAND” Gesture.

LAFAYETTE:  Hooker, please.  Don’t even come in here with your tired Scooby Doo lookin’ ass tryin’ to haunt all the white folk.  Auntie, let’s get you home.


LAFAYETTE:  And you!  Ungrateful hooker!  Seven seasons I been holdin’ your hand through all the dark times and you don’t let me say one of my sassy catch phrases in the finale!  (He bobs his head around in a circle and snaps his fingers)  For shame, Sookie Stackhouse!  For shame!

LAFAYETTE storms off.

ANDY:  And no one finds it on that Tara, a main character, croaks and no one takes a minute to feel sad about it?

HOLLY:  Shut up, Andy.

JASON:  Oh my God!  Y’all look out the window!  It’s fifty Hep V vampires comin’ to kill us!

SOOKIE:  There’s too many of them!  What are we gonna’ do?!

A black hole opens in the middle of the room.  Three high school students and a wimpy British man walk through it.

BUFFY:  Xander!

XANDER:  I know, I know.  I’ll stay here while you and Willow go kick butt because my only special power is sarcasm.

BUFFY and WILLOW walk out the door.  BUFFY stakes half the vampires.  WILLOW casts a spell that blows up the other half with lightning bolts.

They return.  The group mingles and talks for five minutes.


GILES:  Your faces don’t turn bumpy?

BILL:  Nah, HBO couldn’t afford it.


SOOKIE:  So Bill’s all gentlemanly when he tries to eat me.  And Eric is all like “I’m a bad ass that doesn’t care about anything” when he tries to eat me.  They both want to eat me but I love them anyway.  I can’t figure out which one I love more.

BUFFY:  I know.  And Angel killed half of Europe hundreds of years ago but he’s all sweet and sensitive now that he got his soul back.  And Spike killed the other half of olden times Europe but, well, he’s trying to be nicer.  They’re both so cute.


SAM:  I love Sookie and I don’t try to eat her but she won’t give me the time of day.  And Alcide loved Sookie and he didn’t try to eat her but she didn’t love him either!  It sucks to love a woman that rejects you for vampires who just want to eat her.

XANDER:  Tell me about it.


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