Tag Archives: writing

Untitled Killer Doll Project – Chapter 2

NOTE:  I’d probably take the part where Luther and Lindsey are talking in the green room and make it another chapter.

Also, the song Kit sings – that was just something I churned out quick.  I thought it would be funny for the dummy to rap.

But looking back on it, network television would not allow a song with that many swears…

Kit looked at the dummy sitting on his lap. Mr. Kaboodle had been constructed with a face similar to Kit’s, but while Kit was handsome and athletic, his alter ego had a paunch belly. Kit was all decked out in designer wear while Kaboodle wore a pair of plaid pants, a green sweater vest, and a bowtie. To top it all off, Caboodle wore an oversized pair of horn rimmed glasses whereas Kit had undergone laser eye surgery years earlier.

“Well, Mr. Kaboodle,” Kit said. “Isn’t it nice to be here in LA?”

“It sure is,” Mr. Kaboodle replied as his mouth popped up and down. “Finally I’m not the only one in the joint with plastic parts!”

“Oh come on Mr. Kaboodle,” Kit said. “Not everyone in Hollywood has had work done.”

Mr. Kaboodle’s head turned away from Kit and toward the audience. His little eyebrows shifted up and down.

“You sure?” the dummy asked.

Kit moved his arm and Kaboodle leaned forward in the direction of a buxom blonde sitting in the front row.

“Because that floozy looks like she could float us all to Tahiti with those puppies!”

The audience went into hysterics.

Kaboodle’s head spun around and around as he shouted, “WOWZA!”

Once his head was stationary again and the laughter died down, Caboodle looked up to Kit.

“Are you sure we’re in LA?”

“Yeah,” Kit said.

“Positive?”

“Yes!”

“Are you absolutely positively, positive?” Caboodle asked.

“Yes!” Kit shouted, feigning annoyance. “Why?!”

Kaboodle’s head spun around and faced the blonde again.

“Because I’m staring at the Silicone Valley right now and it never looked so good…”

“Mr. Kaboodle, you’re incorrigible!” Kit said.
“There’s a dot com in my pants…”

“All right,” Kit said. “That’s enough.”

Kaboodle’s eyebrows dropped down.

“Ugh…and it just went bust.”

A camera zoomed in on the blonde woman, who was cackling uncontrollably.

Inside the greenroom, Luther and Lacey watched the show on a monitor.

“Oh my God,” Lacey said. “He’s nailing it.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Luther asked as he chomped on a cigar.

“Yes!” Lacey replied. “All he’s talked about all week is how he can’t take the pressure any more, how he knew he was going to bomb and become an absolute laughingstock.”

“Aww, that’s just nervous nelly bullshit,” Luther said. “Speaking of, that’s was a bullshit move you pulled on my man.”

“Excuse me?” Lacey asked.

“Who in their right mind tells a man who’s about to host a live television show ‘I love you’ for the first damn time? That shit could have seriously messed with his head.”

“How do you know it was the first time?” Lacey asked.

“My star playa’ tells my everything,” Luther replied. “He thought you didn’t love him at all, that your ass was going to walk out on him any day now.”

“Why would he think that?”

“Shit,” Luther said as he flicked open a golden plated lighter and lit up his smoke. “Because take away all those muscles he’s built up, those teeth he had fixed and that tummy he had tucked and he’s still the same old insecure dumb ass I plucked out of a two-bit night club five years ago.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Lacey said. “If anything, I’ve been worried he’s going to leave me what with all the buzz around him lately.”

On the monitor, Kit could be seen carrying Caboodle across the stage and down the stairs, making his way to the voluptuous blonde woman who’d been the butt of Caboodle’s obscene innuendo.

“I doubt it,” Luther said between puffs. “I’ve been in this game for a long time and let me tell you, your boy is one of the few special ones.”

“How so?” Lacey asked.

“By and large, my bread and butter is made off of people who look like they were born to be movie stars,” Luther said. “People who’ve lived charmed lives. People who’ve never had to worry about anything because they’re so goddamn good looking that no one ever denied them anything. Your boy, on the other hand, he had to work for it and let me tell you, when you’ve got to work for something, you appreciate it that much more. I just hope you appreciate him.”

“I do,” Lacey said.

“Good,” Luther said. “Last thing I need is my star playa’s head out of the game with a broke ass heart.”

A pimply faced college age page stuck his head into the green room.

“Sir, you can’t smoke in here.”

“Suck my black ass, bitch,” the big time agent said. “I’m Luther Fucking Beaumont and I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

The page shrugged his shoulders and moved on. Lacey, too much of a lady to say anything, turned to the monitor and focused on Kit’s performance.

Kaboodle was checking out the blonde’s copious bosom.

“I think I’m in love,” the dummy said before his head turned upwards to face the woman. “Oh hello. You’re nice too.”

More laughter from the audience.

Kaboodle’s head spun around to face Kit.

“We need to cut this act short.”

“Why?” Kit asked.

“I’ve got wood.”

Kit rolled his eyes. “You ARE wood!”

“Well then,” Kit replied. “This is all very redundant then, isn’t it?”

“Ma’am,” Kit said as he reached out his hand. “Join us, won’t you?”

Surprised, the woman took Kit’s hand and allowed the performer to lead her up on stage, where she took a seat on a stool.

“Hello,” Kit said. “What’s your name?”

“Melissa,” the blonde said with an adorable babydoll voice.

“Melissa, do we know each other?” Kit asked.

“No,” she replied.

“Would you like to get to know me?” Caboodle asked.

Unsure of what to say to the goofy looking dummy, Melissa just smiled and snickered.

“Tell me about yourself,” Kit said. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a secretary,” Melissa said.

“Wowza,” Kaboodle said. “I bet she takes fabulous dictation.”

“Oh Kaboodle, knock it off,” Kit said. “Are you married, Melissa?”

“Divorced,” Melissa replied.

Kaboodle stared at the blonde’s bosom again.

“I’d of fought for custody of those things.”

“Enough, Caboodle!” Kit said. “Have you ever worked a dummy?”

Melissa shook her head no.

“Of course she has,” Caboodle said. “Probably worked her husband over real good in court.”

“Stop it,” Kit said.

“And you deserve every penny of it, honey,” Caboodle added.

“Well Melissa,” Kit said. “I need you to do a favor for me because I’m going to do something I’ve never done before…”

“…tell a joke that lands?” Caboodle interrupted.

“Shut up, you,” Kit said as he set the dummy down on Melissa’s lap.

Kaboodle made a few stifled “Mmmpph mmpphhh!” sounds.

“Now Melissa, what I need you to do is work Mr. Caboodle’s mouth for me because he won’t be able to talk again until you do…”

“Mmmmph!” went Caboodle.
Kit scratched his chin, looked to the camera as if lost deep in thought and said, “Actually, come to think of it, this is the most peace and quiet I’ve had for awhile…”

The ventriloquist waved to the audience, shouted, “Good night, ladies and gentlemen!” and started to walk off the stage as Caboodle’s “MMMPPPHHHS!” grew louder.

“Oh all right,” Kit said as he returned. “Melissa, what I need you to do is reach your hand into the back of Caboodle’s trousers there…”

“Mmmpph?”

“And start feeling around until you find a lever…”

Melissa did as requested until Caboodle’s jaw dropped down.

“WOWZA!” Kaboodle shouted.

“Are you ok, Kaboodle?” Kit asked.

“Never better,” the dummy replied. “Finally, a woman gives me a reach around and I don’t even have to buy her dinner first.”

The audience went nuts.

“Kaboodle, please!” Kit shouted. “You’re on network television!”

“Oh, then I really am getting the reach around,” Caboodle said.

“Melissa, just go ahead and work that lever,” Kit said. “I know you’re new to this but try to move Kaboodle’s cake hole in time with what I’m saying.”

Melissa moved the lever up and down slowly, not in time with Kit at all.

“Just pretend this is a 1960’s monster movie, ladies and gentlemen,” Kit said.

“Oh…my…God!” Caboodle said. “It…is…Godzilla!”

Kit waited for the laughter to die down. He removed his jacket and set it down on a table, then picked up a glass of water.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kit said. “You’ve all seen that tired old cliche where a ventriloquist drinks a glass of water while his dummy sings, haven’t you?”

Kit started drinking and Caboodle immediately chimed in with, “Oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’, oh my darlin’, Clementine!”

“Piece of cake,” Kit said as he set the empty glass of water down. “Easy as pie. How’re you doing over there, Kaboodle?”

“Oh just fine,” the dummy said as Melissa did her best to operate him. “Kind of wish this broad would have warmed up her hands first though.”

“They’re a little cold?” Kit asked.

“It’s like an iceberg just got rammed up my Titanic,” Caboodle replied.

“Well don’t worry, buddy, we’re almost done.”

“I didn’t say I wanted it to stop,” Caboodle said.

“Ladies and gentlemen…”

“I want to be Melissa’s next husband,” Caboodle interrupted.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kit continued. “I’m about to do something that no ventriloquist has ever done before in the history of ventriloquism.”

“Get laid?” Caboodle inquired.

“Shut up, you!”

“What?” Caboodle asked.

“I’m going to…”

“It’s just that all you guys do is sit around and make dolls talk all day,” Caboodle said.

“Enough, Caboodle.”

“Makes women dry up like the Great Mojave is all I’m sayin’”

“Caboodle!!!”

“OK…OK…I’ll be good.”

A group of stage hands popped out from behind the curtain. One man produced a pair of handcuffs and restrained Kit’s hands behind his back.

“Oh finally,” Caboodle said. “The fuzz got wise to all those dirty websites you’ve been looking at.”

Kit sat down in a chair and one of the stage hands pushed down on the back of hit, holding the performer at an angle.

Another man held up a full water cooler jug.

“That’s right,” Kit said. “Some ventriloquists make their dummies sing while drink water. I’m going to make mine sing while I get water boarded!”
The audience let out a collective gasp.

“Wait a minute!” Caboodle said.

“What?” Kit asked.

“If you’re going to pull off a miraculous stunt, you’ve got to make me sing something with a little more pep than ‘Oh My Darlin,’ Clementine!”

“I don’t know,” Kit replied. “Can the network afford the rights to a big song?”

The camera cut to cast member Josh Wiley, wearing a cheap suit, gray haired wig and a big button that read, “Big Time Network Executive.”

“I’ll allow it,” Josh said.

“What’re you thinking, Kaboodle?” Kit asked. “Pop? Rock? A little Rhythm and Blues?”

“You know me, Kit,” the dummy said. “I’m a straight up gangsta rapper from back in the day, son.”

Kit turned to the band leader.

“Jimbo, can you guys give me Stank Daddy’s latest?”

Big Jimbo Stretch, a cool cat whose face was hidden behind a pair of aviator shades and a long beard, lead the Studio 109 band in mimicking “Grab Yo’ Nine,” the latest single off of rapper Stank Daddy’s most recent album.

“Gentlemen,” Kit said to the stage hands. “Do your worst.”

The Studio 109 Band laid down the beat as one hand placed a black towel over Kit’s face. Another proceeded to empty the water jug all over the performer’s face.

Back in the green room, Lacey turned away from the monitor and covered her eyes.

“Ohhhh, this is too much,” she said.

“He’s got it,” Luther said.

In the studio, the audience watched…shocked, amazed, unable to avert their eyes. Kit endured the abuse and Caboodle remained silent for ten seconds until he busted out a hilariously squeaky rendition of the top rap song on the charts.

Bitch betta grab you nine!
Wanna start somethin’ then it’s about time,
To see yo ass on the street.
Busted all up like a pile of meat.
And I’ll be layin’ back feelin’ fine.

Bitch betta grab yo nine!
If you gonna step up to my ass!
Click clack goes my gat cuz you know I be strapped
And you know I know how to drop a sucka fast so
And I’ll never do a minute of the time.

All you fools thinkin’ you betta than me,
Fresher than me
That you got somethin’ on Stank Daddy
Must be trippin’ out yo damn mind…
Muthafuckin bitch betta grab yo NINE!

The network, of course, bleeped out all the naughty words but the audience lapped it all up and were on their feet with a standing ovation as the stage hands uncured Kit and helped him to his feet.

Sopping wet all over, the newly minted star looked at the camera.

“Thank you, thank you,” Kit said. “People, get your hands off that remote because you don’t want to miss a minute of this show. Purple Horizon is next!”

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Untitled Killer Doll Project – Chapter 1

NOTE:  Yes.  Kit’s girlfriend starts out as Lacey and then her name changes to Lindsey.  This is all something I wrote in one night and is grossly unedited…much more so than usual lol.

Between the hot lights and the tuxedo he was stuffed in, Kit was burning up. He reached for his water bottle and began to chug, only to stop when a delicate hand cut him off.

“Not too much,” Lacey said. “The last thing you want is to get out there and feel like you need to pee your brains out.”

“Right,” Kit replied.

Out on stage, the house band was rocking out while a golden throated announcer read the opening credits.

“From historic studio 109 in sunny Los Angeles, it’s Friday Follies! Tonight’s featured players include Molly Shiner…Ken Dobson…Josh Wiley…”

Kit coughed into his fist.

“You ok?” Lacey asked.

Our performer took a peak through the curtain. It was a full house in the studio. Standing room only and a crowd filled with beaming faces. People excited to see him. What a concept.

“Babe?” Lacey asked as she waved her hand up and down in front of Kit’s blank face.

“Huh?” Kit asked. “Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

A strong hand whacked Kit on the back. He turned to his right to find a tall bald man, decked out in a finely tailored three-piece suit.

“You got this shit, playa,” the man said.

“Thanks Luther,” Kit replied.

The announcer carried on.

“Diana Diaz…Al McKenna…Big Jimbo Stretch and the Studio 109 Band!”

Luther stood in front of Kit and rested his hands on Kit’s shoulders.

“Forget the audience,” Luther said. “Hell, forget about the millions of people watching at home. Tune everyone out and it will just be you…”

The well dressed Tinseltown power broker looked at Kit’s left hand, which was being used to hold a goofy looking, wild eyed ventriloquist dummy.

“…and your little friend here.”
“Hey!” the dummy whispered in a squeaky, cartoonish voice. “Who you callin’ little ya’ fat sack of crap?”

Luther grinned and slapped his client on the back again.

“You got this baby. Who’s my star playa’?”

“I am,” Kit muttered, though he was clearly not feeling it.

“Who?” Luther asked.

“Me.”

“Let me hear you say it, baby,” Luther said. “Who’s my A-number one star ass player?”

“I’m your star player,” Kit said.

Luther wagged a finger in front of Kit’s face.

“And don’t you forget it baby.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” the dummy asked.

“OK,” Luther said. “Don’t strain your pipes, star playa’.”

Lacey licked the palm of her hand and straightened an out of place blonde curl on top of Kit’s head.

“Sorry,” Lacey said. “There. Now you’re perfect.”

Lacey pressed her full red lips up against Kit’s. Beyond the curtain, saxophones were wailing, guitars were being strummed, drums beaten but all Kit could hear were those three special words coming from Lacey’s sweet voice.

“I love you.”

It was the first time she’d ever uttered that special phrase and it certainly was interesting timing that she decided to wait right before the biggest performance of Kit’s life to say them, but what the hell. When something’s right, it’s right.

Kit looked at his girlfriend, stared at her big blue eyes, and did not hesitate one iota.

“I love you too.”

Big Jimbo Stretch’s sax solo reached a crescendo. A steady drumroll followed.

“And now, making their debut on the Studio 109 stage, your hosts for this evening, KIT N’ KABOODLE!”

Applause. Hoots. Hollers. Whistles.

Kit made a beeline for the curtain but was stopped by Luther’s hand, which was once again on Kit’s shoulder.

“Bring down the house tonight and you’ll be set for life, playa,” Luther said. “If you do, I guarantee you there will not be a stick big enough to beat everyone in Hollywood off your ass.”

Kit nodded.

“I’ve got this.”

The performer composed himself, removing the terrified expression from his face and replacing it with one of calm, cool confidence. He made a seat with his left hand, parked his dummy in it with his right, flashed a smile full of pearly whites and walked out onto the stage like he owned it.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 62

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“BRAINS!!!”

The undead muttered that word over and over.  They stretched their arms out in front of them, trudging forward ever so slowly.

“Get behind me, my dear!” Doc said to Annabelle.  She didn’t waist any time stepping behind the good doctor as if he were a human shield.

“Could this be the end?” Doc asked.  “Doctor Elias T. Faraday of Boston, Massachusetts…”

“Oh Jesus,” Gunther said.  “Not that again.”

“…but no relation to the Chestnut Hill Faradays, those lousy pickpockets…cut down in his prime before he was able to make his mark on history?”

Blake, Townsend, and the Reverend joined Sarah in hiding under the pews.

The creature with the eyeball hanging out of its socket lunged at Gunther.  The old man braced himself.  That big disgusting mouth opened wide and…a knife was pushed through it.

The blade was drenched in blood but Gunther recognized it.  It was his.  It was pulled back.  The body fell to the floor, revealing Slade.

The ex-marshal made quick work of the other two creatures, stabbing each through the forehead, letting their bodies collapse in a heap.

Slade handed the knife to Gunther, handle first.  The old man took it, wiped off the blood and guts with a handkerchief, then returned it to the sheath on his belt.

“Blake,” Gunther said.

The group’s resident troublemaker popped his head up.  He sneered as soon as he saw Slade had returned.

“I hate to say I told you so,” Gunther said.

“Took him long enough!” Blake complained before ducking back under his pew.

Gunther looked out the window.  He was dismayed to see that Slade was alone.

“Miss Bonnie?” the old man asked.

Slade lowered his head, then shook it from side to side.

Gunther took off his hat and held it over his heart.  “Aw hell.”

Annabelle cried.

Slade found Sarah.  He helped her up and sat down with her.

“You’re not the marshal anymore,” Sarah said.

“I know,” Slade said.

“You can’t save everyone,” Sarah said.

“I know,” Slade repeated.

“Why would you risk your life for someone you hardly know?”  Sarah asked.

“I…”  Slade didn’t want to lie but didn’t think this would be the best time to come clean either.  “I don’t know.”

“So what now?”  Gunther asked.

“We should go,”  Slade said.

“I’ve been saying that all night!” Blake hollered from under his pew.

“Stow it,” Gunther said, and then to Slade, “Can you believe this shit?”

“No,” Slade said. “But there’s over a hundred of them out there.  Pulling people out of their houses and eating them alive.”

“Mother of God,” Gunther said.  The old man pulled out his knife and stood watch by the window, ready to strike any more attackers.

Slade left Sarah with Annabelle and joined his ex-deputy.

“What do you think?”  Slade asked.

“I don’t know,” Gunther said.  “The Injuns?”

“What?” Slade scoffed.  “The curse?  That was just mumbo jumbo, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Gunther said.  “But I’ve heard tales of Injuns having mysterious powers.”

Slade winced and rubbed his head.  “The telegram.”

“What?”  Gunther asked.

“Uxley,” Slade said.  “The marshal from Colorado.  This was what he was trying to warn everyone about.”

“Shit,”  Gunther said.

“And those soldiers,” Slade continued.  “They shot a man in the head after he died.  They knew to do that…”

Gunther finished Slade’s sentence for him.  “…because they’d seen the dead rise up before.”

The two men kept staring out the window.

“The government lied to us,” Slade said.

“Nothing new there,” Gunther replied.

“Why would they tell us to stay put when they knew this was happening all over the country?”  Slade asked.

“To save their oily hides without causing an eastward exodus,” Gunther said.

“You wanted to go,”  Slade said.  “I should have listened to you.”

“You should have,” Gunther said.  “But don’t second guess yourself now, son.  Who could have predicted this shit?”

“I still can’t believe it,” Slade said.

“Me neither,” Gunther replied.  “And I’ve been alive so long I thought I’d seen everything there is to see twice.”

A floorboard creaked behind the duo.  Unbeknownst to Gunther and Slade, Blake had found enough courage to come out from under his pew.  He’d been standing behind them and listening in on their conversation for awhile.

“YOU KNEW?”

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Happy 200th Self-Publishing Podcast

Hey 3.5 Readers,

BQB here.  Just wishing Johnny, Sean and Dave of the Self-Publishing Podcast a Happy 200th Episode.

I discovered these dudes around Christmastime 2014 and have listened to their show every week ever since.

The best description I can give is it is like having three very funny self-publishing professors teaching you a weekly lesson.

I knew very little about self-publishing before I began listening to them.  I’ve yet to start my own self-publishing business but I don’t think I would have ever had an inkling about how or where to begin without these three.

They’ve inspired a lot of people and I think if there is ever a “How Did Self Publishing Become So Popular?” documentary, there will have to be at least an hour on this trio.

Keep up the good work guys!

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Zombie Western Sequels

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Hello 3.5 readers.

For the 3.5 of you reading this…advise me.

Do you want to see Slade and Gunther in a sequel?

I’m currently leaning towards no.  Slade’s Eastwood-esque stoic persona is a joke that only gets so much mileage, I feel.

Although he does talk a lot more around Miss Bonnie…and she did just kill a damn werewolf so I suppose if they’re fighting zombies together it could work.

My mind has come up with two sequels, neither one including Slade.  Both books include actual historical cowboys/girls though obviously, very fictional versions of them.

The second book I have in mind is set in the world and has Calamity Jane fighting zombies and more Legion Corporation shenanigans.

The third book I’m considering sees Wyatt Earp and his friend Doc Holliday fighting zombies and yes, more Legion Corporation shenanigans.

Believe it or not, I have three more book ideas beyond that but I’d have to see a lot of people liking these or else I’ll probably just try another story idea.

So I guess my first question is do you want to see all/any of these characters in the first book return?

My gut is telling me that each future book would include a fictional version of a historic cowboy.  Although if I make it to four books, I do have a fictional cowboy in mind.

Book 5 would involve Mexico.  Book 6, God help me, would involve an elderly Slade becoming Gunther to a young cowboy, bringing the whole thing full circle.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 60

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Miss Bonnie dismounted her impromptu steed. Miles ripped the door to the Marshall’s office off its hinges. He walked in and sniffed. The place smelled of Slade but he wasn’t there.

Miles cringed. There was a new voice in his brain. It was low and menacing. Hewitt.

“Where are you boy?”

He clutched his paws around his head, hoping in vain this would make it stop. It didn’t.

“Why don’t you give up?  You’re just making things worse for yourself.”

Miles roared. Miss Bonnie was baffled, unsure what was wrong with her new friend. She ransacked the office, looking for anything that could help. When she opened up the desk drawers, she found the jackpot. Lots of ammo boxes. She found an old burlap sack in the corner and filled it.

“You don’t need to go out like your old man,” Hewitt said. “Join up with Legion and there will be some money in it for you. Don’t be a chump like your father.”

Another roar. Miles dropped to his knees. He wanted to scream “Get it out, get it out!” but he couldn’t speak openly in werewolf form. He curled up in a ball, hugged his knees and rocked back and forth until he was human again.

The transformation stunned Miss Bonnie. “How did you…”

Heavy footsteps pounded across the roof. A human Miles stood up and put his hand over Miss Bonnie’s mouth.

“Shhh!”

With startled eyes, the pair looked up at the ceiling. Thump…thump…thump went Hewitt’s feet, rattling the boards above their heads.

Two Winchesters hanged on the wall, the property of Slade and Gunther, respectively. Miles grabbed them and laid them out on the desk.

“Load this,” Miles whispered as he handed the redhead one of the rifles.

Miss Bonnie opened up the bag and took out a box of cartridges. Miles stopped her and pointed to the bandolier that was hanging over her shoulder, across her chest.

“With those,” the boy whispered.

Miss Bonnie nodded. She took a bullet out of the bandolier. The shiny silver tip caught her eye. She loaded the rifle to capacity.

THUMP! More footsteps.

Miles pointed to the ceiling, then to his head, then to his heart. Miss Bonnie’s face scrunched up in bewilderment. The boy repeated the motions. The redhead nodded, getting the gist that only a head or heart shot with a silver bullet would do the trick against the monster that was hunting them.

The footsteps stopped. A set of sharp nails dragged their way across the wall behind Slade’s desk. Miss Bonnie and Miles recoiled back to the opposite wall, huddling together quietly. They were in a panic to be sure, but were too scared to say anything about it.

A few seconds passed. Miles began to wonder if his foe had given up and left.

SMASH! A pair of paws crashed through the wall. One grabbed Miles, the other grabbed Miss Bonnie and with tremendous force, they were pulled through the wall and out into the night air.

Hewitt tossed Miss Bonnie aside, deciding to make Miles his first victim. Miss Bonnie dropped her rifle as she flew through the air, only to land in the dirt. Her body ached with pain and was covered with cuts, scrapes and bruises.

She looked up. The wolf man had Mile’s throat in his paw and was holding the boy in the air, squeezing tighter and tighter. Miles thrashed his feet to and fro wildly as he struggled to release himself. It was no use.

Miss Bonnie stood up and found the rifle. She yanked the lever to rack up a bullet. She looked down the sights at Hewitt’s big furry head.  She could only see the side.

“Hey asshole!” she shouted.

Hewitt turned around to face her.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

Miss Bonnie squeezed the trigger. A hole opened up right between Hewitt’s yellow eyes. His hand released Miles and he along with Hewitt’s hairy carcass tumbled to the ground.

She ran over and helped Miles up.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Miles said.
They returned to the office to gather up the bag of ammo and the other rifle.

“You can turn yourself into one of those things whenever you want?” Miss Bonnie asked.

“Yes,” Miles said. “I’m a werewolf.”

“So why didn’t you?” Miss Bonnie asked.

“I’m not a very good one,” Miles said.

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How the West Was Zombed – Reblog

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Howdy 3.5 Cowpokes.

I’ve come along way this year.  Still much more to go, but I’m 40,000 words into a novel and that’s the farthest I’ve ever come on a book idea before.

I may have a chance at actually getting this thing out to the masses, to Amazon, in the hopes of expanding my website’s readership from 3.5 to 30.5 readers.

It has also been interesting to look at the characters, where they started, and how far they have come as well.

So for those 3.5 readers just tuning in, I will start today by reblogging a few chapters and will keep up with the reblogging from time to time so anyone interested can check it out and give me their feedback.

Thank you and hopefully the world will enjoy this novel enough to get the Mighty Potentate off my back.

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All Hail the Mighty Potentate.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 59

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The Bonnie Lass was a blazing pile of rubble and its proprietor was nowhere to be found.

“Bonnie!”  Slade shouted his love’s name over and over with no luck.

Through the flames he saw…them.  Shadowy silhouettes stood up and walked towards him.  Undead Buchanan Boys, bar patrons and prostitutes lumbered forward with their arms stretched out, crying out demands for brains.  Some of the creatures were missing body parts or had entrails pouring out of their bodies.  Most were burnt to a crisp.  Several were still on fire themselves but that didn’t slow them down.

One of the undead was missing the top left quarter of his face, but Slade could recognize those ugly buck toothed chompers anywhere.  Alas, poor Waldo Fleming, part-time mayor, full-time barkeep, ad been reduced to a cannibalistic subhuman abomination.

Waldo reach out.  Slade responded by plunging Gunther’s knife through Waldo’s eye socket.  Then he stabbed an undead Buchanan Boy through the forehead.  A hooker’s teeth snapped too close to Slade’s arm.  He felt a little bit of himself die inside when he stabbed her through the ear.  Slade had never so much as raised a hand against a woman before.

But it was time for another first.  Slade had never run away from a fight before either, but he was outnumbered.  Thoroughly ashamed of himself, he ran and didn’t look back.

If he had, he would have seen the undead fan out, heading toward different parts of town in search of brains.  They weren’t very coordinated, or nimble, or even fast, but they were persistent.

An undead monster’s typical response to a wall is to just keep bumping into it over and over again.  Unfortunately, that spelled destruction for many structures across town, as the still burning undead spread their flames all over Highwater.

As Slade ran back to the church, he heard the screams, the terrible cries of townspeople being attacked and eaten alive.

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 58

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“Bonnie,” Slade said.

The sound of the explosion left a ringing in the Reverend’s ears. He spoke a bit louder than normal so he could hear himself.

“Well, that’s a sign all right,” Reverend Cavanaugh said. “The Lord is pissed and the end of the world is nigh.”

Slade looked to his trusty number two. “Gunther…”

“Go on,” the old man said. He handed Slade his knife. “You’ll need this.”

“Sarah,” Slade said.

“I’ll look out for her,” Gunther said. “Get a move on.”

“Doc,” Annabelle said. “You should go too.”

“Yes,” Doc said. “Where would I be without you, my dear, to serve as my moral comp…”

Doc stopped mid-sentence. The color ran out of his face. He doubled-over and vomited, emptying his guts into the dirt.

“Doc?” Annabelle asked as she clutched the physician’s arm.

“Oh dear,” Doc said. “I seem to have succumb to the stress of this harrowing ordeal. Mr. Slade, I’m afraid you’ll have to go on…”

Doc looked up. Slade was making a mad dash down the road.

“…without me.”

“I’m not about to face the end of the world sober,” the Reverend said. “I’ve got a bottle of the good stuff. Anyone who wants a belt follow me.”

“I’ll take you up on that, Reverend,” Gunther said.

The Reverend walked into the church. Gunther followed him. Doc was a bit shaky on his feet, so Annabelle helped him up the steps.

“How embarrassing,” Doc said.

“It’s ok to get scared,” Annabelle said.

“Scared?” Doc asked. “Please. Remove that scandalous thought from your mind posthaste, my dear. I meant I am embarrassed that I am unable to assist Mr. Slade. I fear he may perish without me at his side. Oh, I do hope he muddles through somehow.”

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How the West Was Zombed – Chapter 57

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Miles dropped his father’s rifle and bit through the leather of the bandolier, gripping it with his teeth.

He dove his front paws into the ground and ran off on all fours in a furious gallop, narrowly escaping Becker’s shots. Miss Bonnie clutched her left hand around a hunk of Miles’s fur. It was an awkward position that left her flapping in the breeze. She would have been better off had she held on to Miles with two hands, but she was not about to drop that shotgun for anything.

Hewitt returned to werewolf form and he and Becker made chase. Though still enormous when compared to a human, Miles in wolf form weighed less than Hewitt or Becker, giving him a speed advantage.

Miss Bonnie was still convinced that Miles intended her some kind of harm, though as she saw the creatures behind her gaining speed, she realized the werewolf she was with was her only hope.

The chase went down the main road, past homes and other buildings.

Hewitt and Becker decided to divide and conquer. Hewitt maintained pursuit. Becker broke off and jumped onto a rooftop, planning to cut Miles off.

Miles bashed through the courthouse doors and ran up a flight of stairs with Hewitt in tow.

Miss Bonnie still had two shots in her gun, cocked and ready to fire. The stairway was cramped and she could feel Hewitt’s hot breath as he lunged forward, his sharp teeth ready to shred her apart. She gave her attacker both barrels right in the face.

It didn’t kill him but it knocked him downstairs, buying Miles time to bash through the office at the top of the stairs. The room was empty and led nowhere.

The red head let go of Miles’s fur and dropped to her feet. Miles punched his paw through a window. It wasn’t big enough for him to fit through so he doubled the window’s size with a punch through the wall.

Miss Bonnie had two shells left in her garter. She loaded up her shotgun. Miles removed the bandolier from his mouth and handed it to Miss Bonnie.

“You want me to have this?” she asked.

Miles nodded.

Miss Bonnie tossed the bandolier over her shoulder.  She petted her hand across Miles’s snout. Miles exhaled a small gust of wind out of his nostrils.

“Are you my friend?” Miss Bonnie asked.

Miles nodded again.

Heavy footsteps trudged up the stairway. Miss Bonnie grabbed a hunk of Miles’ back fur.

“All right,” she said. “Get us the hell outta here.”

Miles stepped through the open hole. Miss Bonnie screamed all the way down.

The chase continued. Miles galloped away.

Miles remembered Slade’s scent. He sniffed the air and picked it up in a few places around town. Some instances of the scent were weaker than others, depending on how long ago Slade had been in a particular area.

The young werewolf picked the closest one and headed for it.  It was weak but it would have to do.

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