Tag Archives: yetis

Top Ten Reasons Why Yetis Make Terrible House Guests


The International War Criminal/Incredibly Boring Snow Monster Known as the Yeti.  He’s been my houseguest at BQB HQ for years now and let me tell you, he’s the worst.

From BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Reasons Why Yetis Make Terrible House Guests:

#10 – They Are Incredibly Boring

Even worse, the boredom rubs off on you.  Before you know it, you’re counting the number of fibers in your carpet and having a good time doing it.

#9 – They Eat All the Food

On a diet?  Invite a Yeti to live with you.  You’ll never eat again because the Yeti will get to it first.

#8 – They Bogart the Remote Control

I haven’t watched anything I wanted to watch since that furry bastard arrived.

#7 – They Smell Bad

Never stand downwind of a Yeti.  Or upwind.  Just don’t stand near a Yeti.  Also, never pull a Yeti’s finger.

#6 – They Always Want to Conquer Something…

…but luckily they are incompetent and therefore easily defeated.  Still, they are very disloyal.  They will pretend to be your friend one minute, then claim your house as an independent nation under their control the next.

#5 – Guilt Trips

Then, just when you’ve had enough and try to kick them out, they’ll make you feel bad.  So they end up staying, eating all your food and coming up with more schemes.

#4 – They Snore

You’ll have to buy everyone in the neighborhood ear muffs.  It’s only fair.  You’re the one with the Yeti.

#3 – They’re Super Fat

Which, I know, is not a nice thing to say.  We’re all about ugly rights here on the BQB blog.  However, I’m talking like, they’ll crush your furniture or knock holes in your wall if they lean on them for too long fat.

#2 – They Stare at You While You’re Sleeping

It’s very weird.  Often, I wake up in a cold sweat, fearful someone is staring at me.  Sure enough, there the Yeti is, eating a sandwich and drinking a Diet Coke with his eyes fixated on me….which leads me to believe…

#1 – Yetis are Perverts

In theory, yes, but in reality, not so much, as they are fat, slow moving, and not really able to do anything perverted.  They think about it, then they give up and watch TV and eat more food.

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Droppin’ Monsters (A Bookshelf Q. Battle Rap)

Oh my God, 3.5 readers.  Oh my God.

Sit all 3.5 of your butts down for this.

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

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

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

DROPPIN’ MONSTERS (A Bookshelf Q. Battle Rap)

Lyrics by: Bookshelf Q. Battler

Beats Dropped and Rhymes Rapped by I_Will_Rap

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The Yeti Escapes!


3.5 readers I don’t want to alarm you, but the international war criminal/fuzzy snow monster known as “The Yeti” has escaped Bookshelf Q. Battler Headquarters.

It wasn’t much of an escape as he was free to leave at any time and frankly the food bill was getting to the point where I was doing my best to nudge him out the door.

I tried to be subtle about it – leaving want ads for jobs that yetis can do lying on the coffee table and inviting hot she-yetis over to fix him up with, but he refused to leave…

…until now.  Has he changed his evil ways? Was he rehabilitated during his stay at BQB HQ or is out there right now, plotting and scheming his revenge against me, your noble blog host, BQB?

Who knows?

Keep an eye out and if you happen to see an international war criminal/fuzzy monster walking around, let me know, but don’t feed him…unless you want a lazy, non-rent paying roommate to move into your crib for years on end.

Stupid yeti.

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The Yeti Covers Adele’s “Hello”

BQB EDITORIAL NOTE: Color me surprised as I woke up this morning to my arch nemesis, the enormous furry snow monster known simply as, “The Yeti” attempting to make amends with me by singing a cover song of Adele’s Hello.

Oh, for those just joining in, I’ve been keeping a Yeti prisoner in my basement ever since he broke into BQB HQ and attempted to shut down the Bookshelf Battle Blog because Yetis are boring as hell and they want the world to be as boring as they are.

He’s been free to go for awhile now but he just hangs out, pretends he’s a prisoner, and eats all my food.

Here’s what the Yeti serenaded me with:


Stupid Yeti

Hello…it’s the Yeti.

I was wondering if after all these months you’d like to meet.

To go over…all the ways I hate your stupid blog.

They say that it’s supposed to be funny.

But I ain’t…laughed…too much.

Hello, can you hear the Yeti?

I’m in your basement dreaming about the fights we used to have.

When we were younger…and we were free.

When we used to roundhouse kick each other in the face with our feet.

There’s such a rift…between us.

And our Thursday night Scandal parties don’t help.

Hello from your stupid basement!

My good Yeti name faces defacement!

But I want to tell you I’m sorry…for not stopping your blog.

The world’s brains it does clog.

Hello, from your basement.

At least I can say that I tried.

To roundhouse kick you in the face, BQB.

For your blog is more abominable than me.

Hello, do we have cheese dip?

If you’re going to keep me as a Yeti prisoner I might as well eat.

And I have demands.

Like can I get free cable down here?

Yes it’s no secret that the both of us,

Will fight for…ever.

So hello from your stupid basement (stupid basement!)

I must have tried a thousand times (thousand times)

To pull the plug on your stupid ass blog,

And make the world a better place.

Hello from my Yeti jail (Yeti jail)

There are no hot Yeti chicks down here for me to nail (for me to nail)

And I want to tell you I’m sorry…for not roundhouse kicking you more.

It would be an improvement to your stupid nerd face.

Hello from my Yeti captivity!

Your basement has no Wi-Fi connectivity!

And I really wanted to stream some Netflix.

Are there any shows with Yeti chicks?

Hello from my Yeti dungeon!

Oh BQB your dumbass head I want to bludgeon!

In our next roundhouse kick to the face competition rematch

Until then I want cookies, so bake me a batch.


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The Yeti

He sucks big time.  That’s all I have to say today 3.5 readers.

Stupid Yeti

Stupid Yeti

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Fit Nerd Trains the Yeti – Changing Your Relationship with Food

Fit Nerd!

Fit Nerd!

Hello Bookshelf Q. Battler’s 3.5 readers.

Fit Nerd here.  Used to be fat.  Lost a ton of weight by watching all my favorite sci-fi shows while I was on the treadmill.  Wrote a book about it. Now I’m a total big deal.

I’ve trained many of your favorite celebrities.  I’ve molded them, shaped them, and turned them from piles of human shaped cottage cheese to finely chiseled works of art for your viewing pleasure.  You’re welcome.

BQB EDITORIAL NOTE:  Bookshelf Q. Battler here.  He’s not the real Fit Nerd. The real Fit Nerd lives in Malibu.  The man writing this column is a tiny version of Fit Nerd I produced by putting a copy of Fit Nerd’s book on my magic bookshelf. He’s not that bright and hasn’t bothered to ask why he’s only three inches tall yet so I’m just going with it.  I’ll turn it back to him now.

Bookshelf Q. Battler recently provided me with my greatest challenge to date: take a ridiculously fat yeti and turn him into mean lean hairy machine.

Can I do it.  Of course?  I’m Fit Nerd.

BQB’S EDITORIAL NOTE:  I don’t think he can do it.  The Yeti is the most stubborn sack of crap I’ve ever encountered in my entire life.  I just feel bad for introducing my furry nemesis to a Western diet based on stuffed crust pizza and bacon infused generic cola.  Back to Fit Nerd.

I recently sat down with The Yeti to discuss his situation.

Q.  The Yeti.  BQB’s mentor, Dr. Hugo Von Science, has determined that you’re two hundred pounds overweight.  You hit the scales at an even grand even though scientifically speaking, a yeti of your height should only be eight hundred pounds.  What gives?


Q.  It’s affected your life, hasn’t it?  BQB worries about you.


Q.  I doubt that.

BQB EDITORIAL NOTE:  That’s a fair assessment.  Back to Fit Nerd.

Q.  The Yeti.  I’m looking around the basement dungeon BQB has you locked up in.  I see pizza boxes.  Ice cream cartons.  Chicken buckets.  I’m fairly certain I saw you freebasing a pixy stick when I walked in.


Q.  I’m not here to judge you, The Yeti.  I’m here to train you.  I’m here to be your friend.  So tell me, why are you doing this to yourself?


Q.  No roar.


Did you catch that, BQB’s 3.5 readers?

Let me repeat it for you.

“It’s like food is the Yeti’s friend.  It’s always there for The Yeti.”

I know how that damn international war criminal snow monster feels.  Before I became Fit Nerd, I was just Orville.

And it was like food was Orville’s friend.  It was always there for Orville.

Delicious food.  It really is always there, isn’t it?  There it is, all yummy and waiting for you.  Ready to comfort you whenever you want it.

Food never tells you no.  A meatball sub never says, “Sorry, I have a headache.”  That hot fudge sundae?  It isn’t going to leave you for someone else.

Sure, you may have lost friends, even lovers along the way, but that bag of chips is always ready to curl up on the couch with you for movie night.

We attach a feeling of emotional comfort to food simply because in a life where opportunities are few and disappointments are many, food’s always there.  It’s that donut on the way to work.  It’s sitting in that vending machine in the break room.  It’s across the street at that restaurant you love to go to for lunch.  It’s at that fast food place you keep telling yourself you’re going to drive by on your way home but you never do.

Food never fails you.  It’s never going to tell no.  It will never turn you down.  It isn’t too busy for you.  It doesn’t get embarrassed by you, or grow apart from you.  You’ll never walk to your mailbox one day and find an envelope full of divorce papers signed, “Chili Cheese Fries.”

You pay your money.  Your taste buds are tickled.  You experience momentary relief from whatever’s troubling you.


I’ll tell you, Yeti.

Food was never intended to be your friend.

It was intended to be your fuel.

What would the ancient cavemen eat?  Leaves.  Berries.  Fruit.  Vegetables.  Meat from the occasional hunted animal.  Humans were never meant to eat a lot to begin with.

Alas, somewhere along the line, man tamed the world and in many regions, the problem for many individuals has moved from there being too little to too much.

And it seems like every day companies are coming out with a new treat geared toward taking money out of your wallet and put fat on your ass, isn’t it?

Stuffed crust pizza.  You heard me.  Someone decided that there isn’t enough cheese on the pizza and put more cheese in the crust.

Oh!  And you can get dipping sauce for your pizza.  That’s right.  There’s already sauce on your pizza and then you take your sauce covered pizza and dip it into more sauce.

Did I mention there are places that will serve you a sandwich where the “bread” is actually two pieces of chicken?

Don’t even get me started on milk shakes.  Seriously, just skip them altogether and just sew a second human to yourself.


Or a second yeti.

Don’t get me wrong.  No one should starve themselves.  Everyone should eat a healthy diet and what is a normal calorie intake will vary as different people have different body types.  Your doctor can help you figure out how much you need to eat if this is a concern for you.


I hear you, Yeti.  I do.

Before I became Fit Nerd, I tried and failed at a lot of weight loss programs.  Many were run by insufferable, perpetually perky fit people who you could tell never knew what it was like to be unhappy, or unpopular, or to have nothing but that bag of barbecue chips and a Dr. Who marathon to look forward to.

BQB EDITORIAL NOTE:  From hereon, Attorney Donnelly advises me that for legal purposes, Fit Nerd’s favorite show has to be Mr. Spacewarper

As I was saying, there are a lot of people who have no idea what’s it’s like to be a person with nothing to look forward to but a bag of barbecue chips and a Mr. Spacewarper marathon.

They’ll tell you to find something else to look forward to, something else that will make you happy but let’s be honest.  Had it been that easy, you’d of never turned to a life of pounding down ring dings two at a time to begin with.

What I can tell you is that as bad as you think you have it now…it can get worse.

Think you’re unhappy now?  Imagine how you’ll feel with:

  • Diabetes
  • Heart Disease
  • Risking a heart attack or stroke
  • Increased pressure and/or pain in your knees/joints
  • Being confined to a wheelchair
  • Or worse, dying too soon.  (Well, I suppose you won’t feel anything then.)


Agreed.  My point?  Only happy people think the unhappy can snap their fingers and poof, all problems are gone instantly.

The Yeti, it is my sincere hope that once you drop two hundred pounds of unsightly yeti fat, you’ll become a new yeti.  A changed yeti.

I hope you’ll find a new lease on life.  Maybe you’ll get out more.  Maybe you’ll find your special someone that melts your ice cold yeti heart.  Maybe you’ll find a worthwhile cause to get behind and stop being a fuzzy international war criminal.

But I also can’t promise you that after you’ll lose the weight, you won’t remain the same angry, miserable, depressed ginormous furry a-hole that you’ve always been.

BQB EDITORIAL NOTE:  Yeah.  I can.  He’ll still be a furry a-hole.

The Yeti - International War Criminal/Exceptionally Hairy A-Hole

The Yeti – International War Criminal/Exceptionally Furry A-Hole

What I can promise you is that your health will improve and let me ask you this – is it better to be unhealthy and miserable or unhealthy and miserable?

At least if you’re healthy and miserable, you can stew over your misery while taking a walk, riding a bike, or doing a myriad of fun activities.


Hell, you might even beat BQB at a best two out of three roundhouse kick to the face competition.

BQB:  Impossible.

Happiness?  That’s up to you to figure out, if that’s even possible.  All I can tell you is that it’s better to be healthy and unhappy than it is to be unhappy and unhealthy.

I lost weight and was still unhappy for a long time until I filled the hole in my life with my Fit Nerd books, guest spots on various talk shows, celebrity training, and my phat Malibu beach house.  Weight loss won’t make you instantly happy.  It will definitely make it easier to search for and work toward your happiness but happiness is a state of mind you have to find on your own.

It’s also relative.  You’ll be happier as a miserable yet skinny yeti than you are as a miserable fat furry bastard.

BOTTOMLINE: As bad as you think you have it now, it can get much worse if you allow your excess yeti weight to remain.

My time’s up Yeti.  Think about what I’ve said and I’ll be back.  We’ll talk about setting goals, exercise, and who knows?  I might convince BQB to let you into his kitchen to prepare some delicious/nutritious smoothies.

BQB:  Unlikely.  Why did I ever agree to this?

Fit Nerd Trains the Yeti is an ongoing health and wellness column for the Bookshelf Battle Blog.

Attorney Donnelly advises:

“Readers (3.5 or otherwise) should by no means construe Fit Nerd’s words as advice that they should necessarily follow.  This is just a general health discussion.  Fit Nerd is talking about tactics that worked for him but they may or may not work for you.  If you are experiencing health and/or weight issues, consult your doctor, especially before beginning any sort of health and/or weight loss program/regimen/routine etc.  Bookshelf Q. Battler takes no responsibility if you take Fit Nerd’s advice and something goes wrong.  For Christ Sakes, people, this columnist is a damn fictional nerd with zero health related credentials.  Stop being so litigious already.”

Image courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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And Now a Message from The Yeti

Hello pitiful 3.5 readers.

The Yeti - Back by Unpopular Demand

The Yeti – Back by Unpopular Demand

This is the Yeti, former occupier of the Bookshelf Battle Blog, now prisoner in Bookshelf Battle HQ basement, from which I am only released on Thursday nights to watch Scandal with Bookshelf Q. Battler and the weird short alien man.

First, let me say, “ROAR!”

Second, let me tell you that I am guilty of nothing but good taste.  I tried to direct you 3.5 people away from Bookshelf Q. Battler’s lame pop culture obsessions and feast your eyes on lesser known gems, such as my beloved Olga’s Stewstravaganza Part 2: Electric Stewgaloo.

You must watch Olga’s Strewstravaganza Part 1 first as you will be hopelessly lost if you try to wade your way into Part 2 without taking in the breathtaking splendor of Part 1.

But you clowns ignored me and follow @bookshelfbattle on Twitter and now I am defeated by the many roundhouse kicks that were delivered by the amazing Bookshelf Q. Battler straight to my Yeti face.

Perhaps I am a glutton for punishment, but allow me one last chance to reason with you people.

Don’t mark your calendars for May 15.  That’s the day when BQB’s story, “Bookshelf Q. Battler and the Meaning of Life” begins right on this horrendous excuse for a blog.

Honestly, what does BQB know about life?  If it isn’t at the bottom of a bottle of Dew of the Mountain then that loser knows nothing about it.

Next, I urge you to not mark your calendars for June 1.  That’s the day BQB’s Project X will land on this blog’s runway.  He claims its a project so awesome that he doesn’t want to share too much about it at this time.

Let’s face it.  He’s probably going to shave me on a live podcast.

Actually, that would probably be delightful.  Summer’s on the way and all this fur is a bitch come July.

So do mark your calendars or don’t.  I don’t care.  But as you cheer on your false prophet, the incredibly dimwitted BQB, know that he is exceptionally mean to Yetis.

Why, he doesn’t even let me hold the remote during Scandal.

In conclusion, Yetis love Scandal.

We really do.

Yeti picture courtesy of a shutterstock.com license.

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Game of Yetis – Part 5 – House Bookshelf

Previously on Game of Yetis:

PART 1 – House Bookshelf – Lord BQB hides out from the War for the Iron Throne, coming up with various excuses as to why he’s been unable to assist various claimants to the throne all the while positioning himself to declare allegiance to whoever emerges as the victor. Alas, a complication in his plan arises when a band of Yetis under the control of Lord Yeti abscond with his supplies of snacks and Dew of the Mountain.

PART 2 – House Yeti – Lord Yeti of House Yeti, the ruler of Yetifell, a territory North of the Wall, where abominable snowmen love to frolic because it is ridiculous cold, mocks his son Yetyrion, calling him a dwarf because he is 6’5″ (which is really short for a Yeti).

PART 3 – House Bookshelf – The usually not so easily rattled Lord BQB is enraged when he discovers that his supply of Special Edition Code Red Dew of the Mountain has been stolen by dirty yetis in the employ of Lord Yeti of House Yeti. Unable to purchase an army of eunuchs because Daenerys Stormborn bogarted them all, he turns to his trusty banner men. Alas, they were only in it for the Dew of the Mountain and now Lord BQB must fight this battle alone.

PART 4 – House Yeti – Lord Yeti is aghast when he spies white walkers on their way to Yetifell.

And now Game of Yetis continues…

“This journey has been agonizing, Maester Monty.  I’m not sure if I can put up with this any longer.”

Maester Monty wiped beads of sweat off his brow and stopped to rest.  The old man was out of breath and felt feint.

“I didn’t say stop, Monty,”  Lord BQB said as the Maester set down the rickshaw he’d used to carry his Lord from the shores of Casterly Rock all the way to Riverrun.  “I’m just saying, you know, all of these bumps along the road.  They’re very unsettling and causing me to spill my…what did you say this clear, tasteless liquid was called again?”

“Water, sir,”  Monty replied as he heaved the handles of the rickshaw onto his decrepit shoulders and marched forward.

“Blech,”  Lord BQB as he took a swig from a jug.  “Disgusting.  We must recover my Special Edition Code Red Dew of the Mountain without delay.  Mush, Monty, Mush!”

“Mushing sir,”  Monty replied.

They continued along the King’s road for hours until a question popped into Maester Monty’s mind.

“My Lord, if I may be so bold, why have you never married?”

Lord BQB bit into an apple and winced.

“Yuck,”  Lord BQB said, ignoring the question.  “People really eat these things, Monty?”

“Indeed sir.  They’re considered most healthy.”

“The shame of it, Monty,”  Lord BQB said.  “The dirty yeti eating my slim jims while I’m forced to waste away on water and apples like a flea bottom beggar.”

“Yes, but the question sir?”

“Oh yes,”  Lord BQB said as he stared at the setting sun.  “If you must know, Monty.  I am partial only to a particular type of woman…one that is difficult to locate.”

“Elaborate, sir?”  Monty asked, as he struggled to not collapse under the rickshaw.

“I like big women.”

“Oh my lord,”  Monty said.  “Surely there are many fine corpulent ladies throughout the Kingdom that you might choose from.”

“No no no,”  Lord BQB said as he tossed the apple core at Monty’s head.  “I don’t mean big in that way, though this Lord has nothing against a bit of junk in the trunk as it were.  No, Monty, I prefer women tall in stature.  My whole life I’ve waited for a beautiful extra tall amazon to sweep me off my feat, provide me with all of the love and care that I deserve, and most importantly, be willing to hack my enemies to pieces.”

“That will be a tough woman to locate indeed, my Lord.”

Join House Bookshelf!

Join House Bookshelf!

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Game of Yetis Part 1- House Bookshelf

And ye, as the war for the Iron Throne of Westeros raged on, another battle gripped the Island of

Sigil of House Bookshelf

Sigil of House Bookshelf

Shelftopia, a lush island a few miles off the coast of Casterly Rock.

Shelftopia was under the control of House Bookshelf, the leader of which was the devastatingly handsome and exceptionally charming Lord Bookshelf Q. Battler.  (No, he did not write this himself).

“Bringeth me mine fool for mine entertainment!” commanded Lord BQB, who spent most of his days

playing X-Box and consuming mass quantities of Doritos and Dew of the Mountain, for chicks diggeth a man who can hold his Dew of the Mountain..

Maester Monty, a decrepit hunchback who served as Lord BQB’s personal lackey and manservant, popped on a jingly bell hat and danced a robust jig, albeit with little enthusiasm.

“Why so glum, Maester Monty?”  Lord BQB inquired.  “While Westeros burns, Shelftopia prospers!  We have managed to stay out of the fray altogether, holed up here in my glorious palace, with nothing to do but play video games!  The best part?  When the dust settles, we shall be perfectly poised to declare our affections and loyalty to whoever happens to be the last man or woman standing!”

“Speaking of, my lord, you may wish to rescind your congratulatory letter to Robb Stark.”

“Why?”  Lord BQB asked.  “Did he quit the war to write fan fiction?  Only losers write fan fiction.  Beat me vigorously with my own entrails if you should ever find me writing fan fiction, Maester Monty!”

“Indeed, my lord,”  Maester Monty replied.  “And no.  I’m afraid the Young Wolf and Lady Catelyn are very much…well…dead.  Died at a wedding.”

“Come again?”  a stunned Lord BQB asked.  “A wedding you say?”

“Lulled into a false sense of friendship and security by Walder Frey, then hacked to pieces.”

“Get out!”

“I shall get in, sir.”

“Wow,”  said Lord BQB.  “Almost makes you wonder if we all just live inside the mind of an elderly sadist who lives to torture us in unexpected ways.”

“Indeed sir.”

“Very well then,”  Lord BQB said as he sucked from his chalice of Dew of the Mountain. Take a letter, Maester:

Dearest Lord Tywin,

Greetings from Shelftopia and a thousand apologies for being unable to pledge myself and my bannermen to your righteous cause.  We were very much looking forward to being hacked to pieces on the field of battle but alas we all came down with a horrendous case of the crabs and well, you can’t bloody well swing a sword when you’re as itchy as all get out, can you?

Many congratulations on your treachery vis a vis having the Starks gutted like pigs at the wedding feast.  Talk about thinking outside the box!  Save me a seat at the victory party because I was totally behind you the entire time.

Yours Truly, Lord BQB of House Bookshelf, Lord of Shelftopia, etcetera etcetera and so on…

“About that sir,”  the Maester said.  “Lord Tywin died as well.”

“Ah,”  Lord BQB said as he munched on a fistful of Doritos.  “Stabbed in the gut in battle I suppose?”

“The toilet.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shot with an arrow whilst on the commode by his son, Tyrion.”

“An arrow in the gut whilst relieving his bowels on the toilet?”  Lord BQB asked, a stunned expression on his face.  “Deaths at weddings!! Deaths on the can!  Does anyone die in battle anymore???”

“Apparently not, my Lord,”  Maester Monty said.  “Speaking of, your bannermen accused you of being a reprehensible coward for not choosing a side in the war.”

“Me?  A coward?”  Lord BQB asked as he slapped his forehead in disgust.  “I’m the only sensible one in the whole bloody realm!”

“How so?”

“Monty,”  Lord BQB continued.  “Here’s something you need to know about politics.  One man says he’ll be a great King.  Another man says he will be even better.  Truth be told?  They’re all morally bankrupt charlatans and all we can do is go with the one who will cause the least amount of turmoil.”

“Rather pessimistic approach to the problem, sir…”

“Like I told Ned Stark,”  Lord BQB said as he paced up and down the floor of his chamber.  “‘Ned, so what if that little shit Joffrey is the product of unspeakably horrid brother on sister action?  What’s the alternative?  Stannis swoops in and has anyone who looks at the Red Lady cross-eyed drawn and quartered?  Just let the little twerp have the throne because it isn’t like there’s anyone who’s any better and at least this way you’ll keep your head.”

“Makes sense now that you put it that way,”  Monty said.

“Seven Hells, if only more than 3.5 subjects would listen to my brilliance!”

Lord BQB popped open a bag of funions and offered some to the Maester, who delighted in taking a handful.

“Well I suppose with Tywin out of the picture and Joffrey dead from another wedding gone wrong, it’ll be Cersei running the show working her boy Tommen like a puppet.  Take a letter!”

Dearest Queen-Regent Cersei:

Congratulations on finally finding yourself at the top of the game, now that your esteemed father hath croaked on the crapper at the hands of your treacherous imp brother, leaving you free to warp King Tommen’s mind to your will.

Please know that I was with you all along and I apologize profusely for being unable to join your forces on the field of battle but alas, I was required to stay in my palace in order to receive the painting repairman.  A painting of my noble self has been broken for weeks and of course, those bloody wretches at the painting repair company give you an open window of 9-5 fortnights for their arrival, and then at the end they usually just send a raven to tell you that they’ll have to reschedule.

The nerve!  The whole time I sat in my palace, completely enraged that I was missing out on the opportunity to be hacked to pieces in the name of the Queen.

Save me a seat at the victory party, for I was totally behind you the entire time.


Lord BQB, Head Honcho of Bookshelf Manor and so on and so forth

P.S. – By the by, I never bought that malarkey that you and your brother were engaged in salacious activities.  Joffrey totally looks like the late King Baratheon if you ask me.  I mean, if he were the product of an illicit union between you and Ser Jamie, the kid would have like 5 eyes and 3 heads wouldn’t he?  That’s just science.

“I would not assume that Cersei has this locked up, my lord,”  Maester Monty said.  “There is another player.”


“Daenerys Targaryen.”

“The Khaleesi?”  Lord BQB asked.

“The same.”

“Get out!”  Lord BQB said.  “Very well.  Hold the raven on that letter to Cersei.  Take another letter.”

Dearest Khaleesi…

Oookie tookie ba dookie dookie…

“She speaks the common tongue, my lord,”  Monty noted.

“Ah!”  Lord BQB said.  “Take it again from the top!”

Dearest Daenerys Stormborn, Rightful Queen of Westeros, Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, yadda yadda yadda, holy shit this woman has a lot of titles, don’t write that Monty:

Greetings from the Lord of Shelftopia!  Congratulations in your war against slavery and for having all the masters put on pikes and so on.  My apologies for not joining you in battle but alas, I stubbed my toe in a training exercise, the point of which was to prepare to be hacked to pieces whilst fighting for your honor, my Khaleesi!

Please know that I was with you the entire time.  If you hear rumors that I was behind Robb Stark, Tywin, or Cersei, well, that’s a load of crap.  I have been Khaleesi or bust the whole time.  Dragons, baby!  Bring on the dragons!

Good luck on your journey across the narrow sea and smash a few usurpers for me!  Save me a seat at your victory party!


Lord BQB, titles titles and so on.

“Then it again it could be Jon Snow,”  the Maester said.

“Oh for the love of,”  Lord BQB said.  “Fine!  Send a letter to every jerk face in the 7 Kingdoms who thinks he or she has a claim to the Iron Throne and tell them I’m with them!  There!  Done!”

“Right away.”

“Thank goodness my snack stores are plentiful,”  Lord BQB said.  “It sounds like this war will be going on forever.  Luckily I have enough Doritos, Funions, Ring Dings, Ho Hos, Slim Jims and other assorted high cholesterol crap to get me through the long winter.”

Suddenly, there was a loud crash from the opposite side of the palace.

Lord BQB made haste, running to his snack storage room to find a band of yetis absconding with his snacks!

“Who are you foul furry beasts?”  Lord BQB asked.  “Explain yourselves!”

“We are the bannermen of Lord Yeti of House Yeti!”  said one of the yetis.  “We plunder your snack reserves in the name of our noble lord!”

Join us next time, for another exciting installment of…Game of Yetis!

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I Quit

I, Bookshelf Q. Battler, Proprietor of a Book Blog That Has Only Reviewed 4 Books in a Year, Ninja Karate Master of the Drunk Monkey and Regal Swan Attack Patterns, Former King of Madagascar for Three Days (It’s a Long Story, Don’t Ask), Stealth Fighter Test Pilot, Indy Race Car Driver and All Around Bad Ass to End All Bad Asses…

Do hereby officially declare that I quit the one post a day challenge.  It was a stupid idea and has left me open to a daily barrage of Highlander attacks, zombie sighting and or potential bitings, Narwhals (Did you know there are living, breathing unicorn whales?  Look that shit up, son!), and Yeti roundhouse kickings.

Worse, various ne’er-do-wells who will stop at nothing, NOTHING I SAY to prevent me from spreading my awesomeness to the world have literally, every hour on the hour, locked me in a safe and tossed me into the ocean from a helicopter, leaving me no choice but to make a Houdini style break for it no less than 24 times a day.  I don’t want to be a whiner, but that is some tiresome nonsense right there.

I’ve been transported to the Planet of the Apes, shout out of a catapult, sent back in time, sent forward in time just to wait long enough for the technology to travel back in time to be created, and I have been assaulted by so many Cthululus (Cthululi) that I have grown immune to their hideous squiddy faces.

Seriously, this is what I wake up to every morning:

BQB:  Uggghh.  It’s morning.  I’m Bookshelf Q. Battler.  I’m tired as crap.  I better get get some pants out of the closet and….



Seriously, Forces of Evil Who Demand I Stop Spreading Literacy, Fun, and Good Times to the Masses.  You’ve really outdone yourselves.  Goblins in my sock drawer.  Socks in my goblin drawer.  Gremlins who wait until I fall asleep and then proceed to sing “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina!” at the top of their creepy little lungs.  I haven’t slept since Dec. 31, 2014.  Damn you, show tune singing gremlins!

This is no way for the man who trained Chuck Norris, Steven Segal, and Jean Claude Van-Damme to be treated.  I am a blogger with skills that have allowed me to amass 3.5 readers.  I should not have to Vulcan neck pinch a werewolf every time I want to get a donut from my kitchen.  Honest to God, 16 Werewolf neck pinches a day are too much.

But do you want to know the real coup de grace?  The real straw that broke the camel’s back?  The real bee in my bonnet?  The real unidentified substance in my cornflakes?

This evening, around 6:48 pm, I went to the fridge to fetch my strawberry granola cinnamon yogurt parfait only to discover that the YETI ATE MY STRAWBERRY GRANOLA CINNAMON YOGURT PARFAIT!


BQB:  Yeti?  Did you eat my strawberry granola cinnamon yogurt parfait!


BQB:  YETI!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Picture Kirk screaming “KHAN!” at the top of his lungs, but with the sonic aftershocks of armageddon thunder from the bowels of Hell.  That is how loud I screamed “YETI!” when I discovered that my perpetual captor turned loser houseguest, the Yeti, ate my strawberry granola cinnamon yogurt parfait.

If you were clear across the world, in say, China and you heard the word “YETI!” being yelled, that was me.


1.  Never steal another man’s woman.

2.  Never challenge a Yeti to a best 2 out of 3 roundhouse kick competition.

3.  Never touch another man’s strawberry granola cinnamon yogurt parfait.  I don’t know why I need to explain that shit to people when it it literally written in the bible on page 7.  Go check your bible.  I’ll wait.

So guess what, Evil?  I quit.  I give up.  I’m calling it kaput.  You can cease and desist your plans to drop man eating piranhas (piranha?) in my underpants drawer, as if I’m too incompetent to not notice man eating piranhas in my underpants more than 3 times in my life.  Seriously, give me some credit.

Stop sending wave after wave of assassins after me.  Sure, the fight is exhilarating but when I defeat them with my pinky finger while cooking my breakfast waffle with my free hand, I end up feeling guilty and sad for the assassins.  I’m just too nice for my own good.

Also, that asteroid you sent to destroy Earth just so you could take me out?  Yes, I did stop it and send it back into space by staring at it in a stern, disapproving manner.  What’s that Earth?  You didn’t hear anything about Earth being destroyed by a damn asteroid?

Uh…yeah.  You’re welcome

I’m out of the game, off the clock, out to lunch, and off in left field.  I turn in my blogging papers and give up.  I will blog no more.  So please stop all the madness, Forces of Evil.  You win.  The one post a day challenge is over.  The world will no longer experience a daily dose of my awesomeness, and you evil creatures get what you want.

Good for you.  I hope you’re happy.

3.5 readers (2.5 excluding Aunt Gertie), I thank you for taking this ride with me.  I pray you are not disappointed in my decision to quit, but I tell you, there are only so many damn Yetis, sasquatches, assassins, Cthulus, narwhals, bears, and Broadway musical performing gremlins that I can stand.

Lesser men than I would have quit long ago.  That I have withstood 3 months of this garbage proves my rugged machismo to the masses.

Speaking of, now that this insane challenge is done, I can now give in to the thrice an hour calls from Katee Sackhoff and Katy Perry, who demand I quit blogging, not because they want to rob the world of my awesomeness, but rather, to have it all to themselves.

I look forward to many days of helping Katee with two ee’s (Katy 1) find new and adventurous sci-fi babes to play.  I also can’t wait to write some songs for Katy with a y (Katy 2).

Here’s a littly diddy I cooked up based on her past songs:

La dee la de la…I like to dance.

La de la de la…I like romance.

Dum dee do dee da…candy and smiles.

Dum dee dum dee dum…sing for awhile.



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