ZomBicurious

2011 - The Year That Was (and Has Been)

2011-12-28T05:12:00.000-08:00

Everyone's got their lists for the passing year - what was good, great, awful, and just plain eh. Of course, I love to reflect on the passing year, reminding me what was so totally awesome and what to avoid in the upcoming year. I've no doubt that heated discussions will arise by lists (they do that, don't they?) and I'm just asking that we avoid all Bill Maher-Bill O'Reilly heated debates. 'Kay?

Here are my top ten films of the 2011 year and my favorite books of the passing year. Read, watch, try something new!

Films:

Suprisingly 2011 was an outstanding year for movies. The box office receipts don't indicate this, but it seemed that some of my favorites really amped their game. Like Woody Allen, for instance, or the fine folks at Disney (not you, Pixar). While the summer offered it's wealth of disappointments (that's for you Johnny Depp, aka corporate stooge), there was a lot of real gems scattered in the summer's offerings.

10. Winnie the Pooh. This came out in July and was quickly headed to DVD. Apparently Winnie the Pooh doesn't hold the same weight it once did. Okay, more for me to enjoy. The reboot was outstanding in every single way. For starters, the casting of John Cleese as the very understated narrator was brilliant. Zoey Deschanel's songs melodiously rebirthed thoughts of childhood folly. But, more importantly, it was old school - no 3-D, no CG. Just a near carbon copy of the 70's predecessor. Outstanding and easily 4.5 out of 5 stars.

9. Captain America: the First Avenger. Yes, it was a wonderful summer popcorn munch of a flick, but Joe Johnston captured a definitive style. No surprise...this is the genius who brought us the underrated Rocketeer. The eerie thing about this one was the timing. What better flick to chew on than this, following the death of Osama bin Laden. Chris Evans, Tommy Lee Jones, Dominick Cooper are America's super team.

8. The Devil's Double. Speaking of Dominck Cooper, let's flash to the Devil's Double. This is the true story of the man forced to stand in as Uday Huessein's double. One word: Fuck. This film is rough to get through, but it is outstanding. Uday was a freak and Dominick Cooper's performance of the duel men is nothing but brilliant. Not sure who's doing publicity for this, but the fact that Cooper's getting no buzz whatsoever for awards is truly sad.

7. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. Absolutely brilliant. As a fan of the books and the Swedish film, I was skeptical. Fincher, though, demands your respect. This is the sort of material that David Fincher does best with. He never shirks away (you can almost hear Hollywood beggin him to do so) from the grit, and he gets a spectacular performance out of Rooney Mara, who until now I only knew from the crappy Nightmare on Elm Street remake.

6. Project Nim. If you hated the Rise of the Planet of the Apes (which I didn't think was inherently bad), you might take a peak at this documentary. Again, timing is interesting as this came out right before the Planet of the Apes prequel. I typically love my documentaries, but rarely see them at the theatre. This was the exception this year.

5. Drive. It was a great year for Ryan Gosling, and I'm proud for the kid. Drive was probably the best of the wealth of films he gave us. Not only does it feature an amazing Albert Brooks, but this was the gritty slow burn for a film that I haven't seen since the 1970's. It easily could have been a clone of Scorsese's best and Coppola's best. I loved it!

4. The Muppets. I adore the muppets and was happy to see them return. It's pure nostalgia; I got goosebumps when they did the actual show opening theme. Is it cheesy? Sure, but that's what the Muppets are. And, it's pure and innocent - no potty humor, no pop culture references, no 3D and CGI. Plus, the cameo by Jim Parsons was genius.

3. I Saw the Devil. Probably one of the most uncomfortable films I saw all year. This was something that was wickedly funny and shocking all at the same time. Like Tarantino and Fincher, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to find amusement in such a dark little thriller. Enjoy it now, 'cause I'm sure it will be remade for "Americans" who don't like reading subtitles.

2. Midnight in Paris. Love is all I've got for this Allen film. I adored ever single second. Especially of note is Corey Stott playing Ernest Hemingway and Loki playing Fitzgerald (although Adrien Brody is pretty fun as Dali). It's easy to imagine this being Hollywoodized with big special effects for a time travel film. Woody Allen doesn't do that, though. Again, this harkens to the 40's of Hollywood and it works. It never feels fake. It just feels wonderful.

1. Beginners. This film will get Chris Plummer his Oscar...finally. I've heard people gripe about this being that "gay film". Not so. It's moving and the romance between Ewan McGregor and Melanie Laurent is touching and real. The relationship between father and son is also moving. Like sa few others on this list, this film came out this summer and was virtually lost to all audiences. Fortunately it's out on DVD in time for award season.

Books:

What to do with a year that featured no new releases from some of my favorite authors? There were some great gems, though:

10. Devil Red by Joe Lansdale. The latest in the trials and tribulations of Hap and Leonard. Not only is it great, but it takes a much darker turn than the previous entries and Lansdale's the best when he takes it to the dark, dark places.

9. A Town Called Suckhole by David Barbee. Hilarious and raunchy and deep fried. Barbee's tale of rednecks with tech is easily an homage to Lansdale's southern-fried fiction. It reads like a video game, which isn't a bad thing, and rarely disappoints.

8. Doc by Mary Doria Russell. It could have been a biography, but wasn't. I found this yarn about Doc Holliday to be insightful and almost educational. Who knew that Wyatt Earp wasn't as big a fan of Doc? Apparently Russell has more than Hollywood.

7. When Elves Attack by Tim Dorsey. Yes, I'm a huge Dorsey fan, so I'll not apologize for this entry. It is an inside joke of a book for fans of the Serge series. If you're not a fan, you won't like the book. If you're a fan, you'll eat it up a few times over.

6. 11/22/63 by Stephen King. Yes, I had issues with this one a few weeks ago. Not sure why it made the list, but over the past month, I've had it percolating in my noggin. Is it great? No. It's definitely got flaws, but it's still a good read. And, it has stuck with me ever since I read it. Especially the ending.

5. The Exterminators by Bill Fitzhugh. Pest Control is one of my favorite funny novels. This book is not listed as being released until the 3rd of January, but it's currently already available. Yay! It's the long-awaited sequel to Pest Control and it's just as wild as the first one. All the characters return, all the zany returns, all praise the return of a wonderful storyteller.

4. Drama: An Actor's Education by John Lithgow. Not quite a memoir, but a look back at the man who gave Lithgow his devout love for performing - his father. This is a wonderous achievment and reads like poetry. Is there nothing that John Lithgow can't do?

3. Rin Tin Tin by Susan Orlean. Damn, Orlean's created a massively amazing book on a Hollywood icon. Screw Lassie, man. Rin Tin Tin was the hero of the time. I was a little young to capture the series, but this book does rip through all the myths and showcases true heroics.

2. Karaoke Death Squad by Eric Mays. Yes, it's a shameless plug, but I've actually revisited this several times this year and it is funny. Should you read it? You know the answer to that.

1. Ready Player One by Ernest Cline. Cline is a geek amongst geeks and his first novel is an homage to all things 1980's. Beta players, D&D, and a wonderful debate about the two Ewok movies are just a few of the things that play here. Basically, this is a modern retelling of Willy Wonka, and it's fresh, original, and entertains in very interesting ways.

2011-08-22T18:20:00.000-07:00

Ummm...so yeah, it's been a little while. A little while? okay, call me out. It's been a long while. In fact, it has been so long that whales have become land mammals once more, the Conservatives have risen back to prominence, the dog and cat Magna Carta is now ruled defunct, fourteen children have received collegiate scholarships, and Sally Struthers is, approximately, seven pounds heavier. It's been a long ass time. And for that I'm sorry.

But, rest assured, there's tons to be excited about. I wanted to post tonight because it is an excellent time to strike. While I've been offline for more than a year, the time has hardly been wasted. As you can see, I'm presenting a little something called "Karaoke Death Squad". Well, actually, I'm more than presenting it. I wrote the thing. I wrote it, am proud of it, and want you to bask in it's nougety goodness. It IS nougety good.

Karaoke Death Squad tells a portion of Homer's the Odyssey - the part with the retched sirens and Odysseus' crew being seduced, by song, to a shallowy death. Of course, that tale's been told. In this version, the sirens invade karaoke bars in Baltimore's nightlife, seduce men into horrid sexual malvesance, and make little demon-babies. So, if you like demon-babies, Baltimore night life (which who does?), or classic lit, there are three reasons for you to purchase said book. Need more? Okay...

There is an underlying subtext to Josh Groban. There also exists an underlying pop-culture for karoke and power ballads - one that I explored quite literally for years! Karaoke Death Squad features a soundtrack that includes: Meat Loaf, Young MC, Divinyls, Gwen Stefani, Santana, Billy Joel, and Tony Orlando, among others. Homer wishes he had as much to work with.

Okay, so it's going to be a matter of weeks before this thing goes live, right? Let me whet your appetite. S.G. Browne, author of Breathers and the bestselling Fated says: "Mays hits all the right notes". And Greg Hall says something that cannot be repeated here.

Still need more? Okay. I have a story called "Nyuck Nyuck" in the Copeland Valley Sampler, which is now available via Amazon.com. It's a good story, biased as I am. It's a Western, featuring the Three Stooges and Burl Ives. PLUS, I've got a story emphasizing the evils of Celine Dion in the New Flesh. It's a good time.

So I guess when all is said and done, all I need you to do is help a brother out.

Birthday Wishes and a Call for Help!

2010-06-01T04:33:00.000-07:00

So, my Gemini roots will be celebrating in a matter of days. Yes, it's that glorious time of year when I embrace the fact that I'm moving toward the elderly end of the spectrum (and a reminder that I've yet to find a pharmaceutical fountain of youth). Okay, forget the flowery chatter - it's my birthday!

Last year at this time something glorious happened. I found out that I was going to be published through Eraserhead Press. In fact, recently, I sent a "commemorative" email to editor Kevin Donihe, just thanking him, once again, for the opportunity. This year, as the day approaches, I've had "Naked Metamorphosis" out in print for 8 months. 8! Can you believe that? Well, it's true.

This time around, I'm not celebrating the fact that I will be published. I'm celebrating the fact that I am published. It's a glorious feeling. And, this year, I really want your help. A few people have done the obligatory: "What do you want for your birthday?" My typical response is: "Just gather, drink, and have a grand ol' time." This year I have an answer; I have an actual birthday wish.

My exodus from the womb occurred 9 days from now. And between now and then (ah, hell, through the first two weeks of June), all I want for my birthday is to sell some books. See, the goings been pretty slim here lately. Why? Well, as most of you know I've been working on "The Authors Speak" (http://www.theauthorsspeak.com/), which is great. Work's been good, but good translates to busy. And, I've probably not been carrying the promotions torch as high as it should be held. I've also been dreading sounding too whorish online, consistently begging people to buy a copy of my book.

These first two weeks of my birthday month, I am asking for help. Please, if you've not purchased a copy of "Naked Metamorphosis, do so. It's $10, and that's a heck of a low price for a gift (unless you're unemployed, which I totally understand). You can purchase it at amazon.com. Just use this link: http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Metamorphosis-Eric-Mays/dp/1933929901/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1275391570&sr=8-1. If you've already purchased a copy for yourself, perhaps considering purchasing a gift copy for someone, or buying a copy for your local library. If you'd like it signed or personalized, let me know. I'll cover your shipping.

If you have purchased a copy, but haven't posted an Amazon review, please help a brother out and post a review. I assure you it's rare that I get so down in the dumps that I need to re-read every good word said about the book. Reviews are just a great way to cultivate sales from unknowns. It really, really helps.

If you've done one or both of the afforementioned steps, it would be huge just to recommend the book to someone. Pestering works, too, though it is a way to annoy and ostracize those you know. So, be gentle. But make your point loud and clear...

Exciting things are happening. Recently the book has made the rounds to many, many minds. Some were eager to read it prior to its release (for a blurb) and are just now getting to it. Some are new friends and acquaintences. Mary Roach has a copy (supposedly to read when she travels to Italy next month). James Morrow's read his copy on the train back from Floriday to State College. There's an electronic copy with Stana Katic (the actress that plays Kate Beckett on "Castle"). It's out there. It's been well received. I just need a little extra push.

This time next year, I'd like to celebrate a new book. With a push like this, I hope that will be possible. Can you guys help make a birthday wish come true?

Thanks...and happy birthday to me. Cake and ice cream served in the lounge.

Flattery Works so Well (especially when it's friggin' awesome)!

2010-05-12T04:57:00.000-07:00

David W. Barbee is a pretty cool cat! Man! We met when our respective books - "Carnageland" and "Naked Metamorphosis" - were released by Eraserhead Press. I'd already read "Carnageland" at that point and dug it. Plus Barbee was coming from Warner Robins, Georgia, not too far from where I went to college.

Needless to say, Barbee is a wonderful guy. He even survived the Georgian blizzard of '10. And, I've been flattered that he's producing some very awesome art featuring some of the characters from "Naked Metamorphosis". Ah.

Well, if you've read "Naked Metamorphosis" you know the deal: it imagines a classic piece of lit (in this case, "Hamlet") when it's twisted by other authors. In my novella those other authors are Franz Kafka and William S. Burroughs. Well, David Barbee just wanted in on that action. So the continuation of both our stories describes what it would be like if Barbee got his hands on "Naked Metamorphosis" and his characters from "Carnageland" invaded. Confused? If you'd read the books you'd not be. What? You've not read them? Well, then go get them. No, now. I'll wait. Go ahead and put them in your amazon.com shopping cart. Hurry.

http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Metamorphosis-Eric-Mays/dp/1933929901/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1273665106&sr=8-1

http://www.amazon.com/Carnageland-David-W-Barbee/dp/1933929952/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1273665130&sr=1-1

There, now you'll understand what's going on.

Well, I've been writing a very small and short chapbook featuring these characters as if they were in an NCAA-style bracket. The first round is posted here on the blog. The second is posted over at Barbee's blog: http://davidwbarbee.wordpress.com/2010/05/07/carnageland-vs-naked-metamorphosis-round-2/. When you go to David's site, just ignore the creepy Jar Jar Binks-like thing giving you judgmental eyes. He he he.

But he's drawing some pretty amazing art! I love it. I dig it. I'm flattered by it. And it's got me thinking about artists in general. The term "starving artist" is a cliched and overused term, even if it's not too far from reality. So, if you dig the art and you want to help real, true authors out, go and pick up a copy of our books at Amazon. If you don't dig the art, just keep your opinion to yourself. Let's keep the art alive! Keep artists producing art!

Naked Metamorphosis v. Carnageland

2010-04-23T04:41:00.000-07:00

It's International Shakespeare Day, kids, and that means it's a chance to outsell the Bard and make him look completely foolish. You dig? I've included some ways that you can help with this on the previous post. So, knock yourself out. However, I also agreed to post an epic Shakespearean crossover. Mr. David Barbee's character creations, from his book "Carnageland", have made their way into the warped universe of my Hamlet. What gives? Well, if you've been following the bracket you know there's going to be some ass-kicking. And, here's round one. Enjoy.

There's accompanying artwork by Mr. David Barbee - if you saw the poster, then you know it's pretty righteous. And anyone that purchases a copy of "Naked Metamorphosis" AND "Carnageland" today, will win an autographed, original print. Email me when you stroll over to amazon.com, and I'll take care of you.

Osric v. Garry Snotter

Wizch’s are interesting creatures. Even those that are not so established, like Garry Snotter, are interesting. Their power is oft sketchy and errant. So, to see the student go head-to-head with poor, squirrelly Osric odds were it wasn’t going to end well for the put-upon courtier of Elsinore. Even as the two met head-to-head, visions of spontaneous combustion flashed in Osric’s skull. Surely, the Danish countryside would run red with his own entrails.

“You’re no match for me,” spat Garry Snotter.

“I do believe that you’re quite right, my lord,” remarked Osric. “Now that the outcome’s been established, the debate quite quelled, would there be anything I can do for you? I’m quite good at fetching things.”

“Fetch? Like a ball?”

“Or a warm cup of tea, perhaps. I’ve also been known to be perfectly adept at drawing the perfect bath. It’s all a matter of balancing the proper amount of warm water and the –“

Garry interrupted Osric. “A warm cup of tea would be delightful. Perhaps with a bit of honey?”

“Indeed. I shall fetch it for you presently, sir.”

And without nary a protest, Osric sped off to fetch the beverage for the young wizch student. The tea was followed by the fetching of fleece blanket, which was followed by the fetching of a pen and paper. After Garry was quite satisfied he tested Osric’s bath drawing skills and found them to be spot on.

Garry’d never had a friend, much less a person so eager to wait on him hand and foot, so the duel never went further than the exchanging of mild threats. After all, Osric had conceded that Garry Snotter would win. Thus, the most anticlimactic of challenges came to a close.

Wizch Headmaster v. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern

The Wizch Headmaster would have been content to smear a courtier’s brains on the wall. Alas, he was not facing a mere courtier who’s ambitions lay solely with serving others. No, the Wizch Headmaster was facing Rosen Crantz and Guilden Stern, college friends of Prince Hamlet. And they were known to be ninjas.

A blast of power rose from the headmaster and the two ninjas leapt away from each other. Sizing up the Wizch Headmaster was difficult. Neither Rosen nor Guilden had faced a threat quite as unique as this. Hell, neither Rosen nor Guilden were ninjas. The costumes were a silly byproduct of Gertrude and Claudius’ silly royal shenanigans. “Quake with fear, they will, when they see ninjas,” Claudius had said. “It won’t matter if you can’t actually do ninja things.”

And now death loomed over them.

Another burst of power, this one slamming into Rosen, escaped from the headmaster’s hands. Guilden raced to his partner, shedding his head wrap in the process. Rosen winced in agony, but seemed to be somewhat clinging to the world of the living.

“Guilden,” Rosen wheezed.

“You bastard,” said Guilden, turning his gaze towards the headmaster. “Have you no heart?” The “ninja” leaned over and kissed his partner.

The headmaster was preparing another decisive blow, since both were together at the same time. The sight, however, of the two lovers took the wizch by surprise and he averted his gaze, offering them a slight bit of privacy. Wizch’s, though, are interesting creatures, as is well established. The power was already surging, and as the headmaster covered his eyes, the blast of energy smashed into his head and melted his face.

898 v. Polonius

Meanwhile, back at Elsinore…
Polonius paced the war room, muttering to the warlord council.

“Wah! This is utterly preposterous, men. That fool of a King should be drawn and quartered, wah. Declaring a war on terrors is a waste. We’ve more pressing issues at hand. Norway is on the rise. And now, we’re bombarded with this Inpire, Inc, business. What sort of people are these? They cannot even spell Empire!”

As if on command, the doors to the war room exploded raining splintered wood and chunks of steel onto the council. Polonius threw himself to the floor, just dodging an oncoming hinge. The hinge pinged off a table and flew into the skull of a geriatric warlord.

When it was all over and his ears had stopped ringing, Polonius stood and examined the scene. Four warlords were slumped in their chairs, chunks of metal and oak sticking out of their faces like they were porcupines. The other warlords – men who, in their youth, had stormed the battlefields like gods – cowered beneath the council table.

One, speaking with a voice that should belong to a mummy, were mummies capable of speech, said: “Mayhaps we should reconsider this war on terrors.”

“Wah,” said Polonius, but it was devoid of anger and filled with curiosity.

898 walked in the war room, Doomshooter in hand.

“Wah! Your insolence to this kingdom shall be revisited on you…”

Whatever threat Polonius was busting a vessel to say died in his mouth. An exploding head tends to have that sort of effect.

Cries of fear and agony emerged from beneath the table as the warlords found themselves covered in gore, courtesy of their leader. Many began screaming for their lives. But nobody moved an inch; they were paralyzed in terror.

Invader 898 kicked stray chairs and leapt onto tabletops. He took aim and fired the Doomshooter at the warlord council. One by one the elderly “brains” of Elsinore’s government were reduced to…well, brains. And brain matter.

Ophelia v. Green Wizch

Ophelia, unaware of her father’s demise (which should have been at the hands of Hamlet, rather than a green alien from Inpire, Inc. Had she even known this, her simplistic brain would not have been able to process it. What was happening to Denmark at present was nothing more than a recycling, as it were. It’s what happened when David Barbee, author, tried to re-tell what had already been retold by William S. Burroughs, and retold prior by Franz Kafka, and retold prior by William Shakespeare. Ophelia was better not knowing), was rambling on about “taters”, as she did. She was so focused that she’d not heard the Green Wizch.

“Child, make thee ready for Death’s welcoming embrace,” said the Green Wizch.

That got her attention. She turned and asked, “Do you have a tater?”

“I’m in no position to grant final requests. But, were I able, I do not know what a tater is.”

“I want a tater!”

“I am unfamiliar with this slang word. Now, prepare for your demise.”

Sometimes it’s jokingly referred to as “retard strength”, which is horrendously offensive. That said, Ophelia, so overwhelmed with the need for a tater, unleashed her retard strength at the Green Wizch. In her simplistic mind, if the Green Wizch was incapable of providing her with her heart’s desire, then it was no more than an obstacle that needed to be removed.

The Green Wizch had not seen the blow coming. Fists of fury went through the wizch and within seconds his existence flickered into nothing. His final thought: “I wonder if she means potato?”

Alfred v. Ninjerbread Man

David Barbee’s attempt at perfecting “Hamlet”, even better than Kafka and Burroughs, had gone widely astray. That’s probably why actor Alfred found himself still playing the Prince of Denmark, even though the story had come to an end. “Whatever,” he said to himself, “I’m still being paid for my services.”

He was reminiscing about working with the Courtyard Players when a man, a man made of cookie bits, came across the path he was watching.

“What gives? You’re rather odd, aren’t you?”

The cookie man said nothing.

“I can see your manners are as lacking as your voice, knave! Perhaps a good slap, one you may offer an ignorant bitch, will revive your words.” Alfred slapped the cookie man across his face. It was a fey slap, as Alfred was known for, but it still bore a bite.

The cookie man remained quiet.

“Please step thee from the path, fiend. I’ve pressing business to tend and you’re holding me up.”

The cookie man still said nothing.

“Verily then shall I destroy thee,” Alfred said, sure to keep the flowery performance. “For I am Prince Hamlet of Denmark and you are nothing more than a scurveous, onion-eyed scut, you are! Avast!”

Alfred drew his rapier and let the tip tickle the cookie man.

“Surely you would pleasure me with your name before I allow maggots to feast on your soul.”

The cookie man looked up and said, “I’m the Ninjerbread Man.” The look that followed was enough to send a shiver of dread right down Alfred’s spine.

Alfred was a lover, an actor, and a self-indulged fop – these were things at which he excelled. What he did not excel at was combat (save for the stage, of course). It only took seconds, if that. Perhaps it was nanoseconds. When it was all said and done, Alfred lay broken, literally, in seventeen pieces. The Ninjerbread Man placed a single gum drop atop each the pieces and walked off into the countryside, seeking his next victim.

Pirate Captain v. Gertrude

Story Intercepted:

“I’m not one to beg, as I find it loathsome and unbecoming a lady so such stature, but I must beg you to excuse this interruption. Behind the outer imagery of a functioning kingdom, there are layers of intricate comings and goings. Ignorance, they say, is bliss, and I could not agree more. You’d not wish to know all the ingredients of your favorite sausage, I assure you, so you never think to question. You just eat, enjoy, digest, and send it back to the earth with nary a thought.

This is the same for the royals.
The kingdom is at war, my people, and it’s not important to question the specifics. What is decidedly important is that you place your trust in the decision makers as we embark on this tumultuous time.

I could offer you specifics about my – and my husband’s, of course – encounter with a Pirate Captain lothario, but the details are not important. Nor does a lady speak in rumors and gossip. Rest assured, though, that this individual threat has been dealt with immediately.

That said, it is my responsibility to inform you that your leader, King Claudius, has perished in a most retched fashion, but I shall spare you the details. Early in the day, too, our esteemed leader of the warlord council suffered an accident. That man just lost his head, as it were. It is my responsibility to lead you, Denmark. And lead you I shall.

I’ll offer no other specifics, but for those that sling the rumors that I’m an ice queen and vicious bitch, well, rest assured there is truth to those things. I’m adept at protecting myself and seizing an opportunity.”

Yours,
Queen Gertrude

Puck v. Se7en Dwarves

The hobgoblin was hurtling through space and time, his watch gibbering and jabbering all the way.

“Hell’s bells,” he said, as the space-time-continuum spit him onto the landscape.

He jumped up and surveyed his surroundings. It was odd, really. According to the chirping of his watch, he was supposed to be answering a prayer. Oddly, though, there was not a bended knee to be found. Time travel is tricky business to be sure, but usually the odds were in his favor.

“Um, hello,” Puck tried.

“Um, hello,” someone or something echoed.

“Oh, I see we’re trying to prank a prankster,” Puck said. “Well, get ready for the fun, ‘cause it’s about to get right vicious.”

“So you say,” the voice said again. This time Puck could hear it. It wasn’t a voice. It was voices. Seven to be exact.

“What has seven voices and doesn’t want to be seen? Sticks and stones, kids. Come on out so that we can get on with this. I’ve prayers to answer and hogs to feed. Plus, I’ve got a lovely faerie waiting, so if we can get this going, I’d appreciate it.”

There was a silence for a spell, then the voices returned. “You cannot see us, but we see you. We have the advantage here. We are nothing, as far as you’re concerned.”

“Finally,” said Puck. “Thank the gods for that. I was starting to worry.”

The hobgoblin snapped his fingers and the countryside grew quiet. The se7en dwarves that were lurking out of sight only moments before were no more. Well, it dealing with time-travelling hobgoblins is a tricky sort of task. It wasn’t that they were no more. It was that they never were. They’d said they were nothing, and Puck had made it so.

Miles and miles away in a different world, author David W. Barbee’s brain buzzed like a bug lamp. He was writing something about dwarves and then the words just left him. He slapped his dome a few times, doodled a bit, but the tangent never came. It was in that moment that Barbee decided he should smoke less pot. Yeah, and pigs can fly.

Hamlet v. Red Riding Hood

“They’re demons, Horatio! You cannot see them, but they pester me so. Open your eyes you damn fool.”

“Yes,” said Horatio. “Demons, indeed. Vicious buggers, I’d wager.”

“You’d wager correct, sir!” Hamlet swung the sword viciously through the air, sending the blade into an imaginary imp. The blade slammed into the brick and mortar of an Elsinore courtyard with a clang. “Of all the damnable…Horatio! Bring your ass here this moment. They’ve gotten craftier.”

“I’d say, my lord,” said Horatio, the mildest hint at bemusement in his voice. “First the cockroach business and now this. I must find this god Kafka that you have spoken of.”

Hamlet struggled with an invisible beast. “If we stop the demons perhaps we can stop the metamorphosis, Horatio. Please help me,” he grunted as he pushed the mirage away and swung the blade through the air. “Oh, and the god’s not named Kafka any longer.”

“Beg pardon?”

“No time for pardon begging, chap! Fiends are about. We must thwart them.”

“That’s all very good, my lord, but what is this about the god.”

“Oh, that. He’s no longer Kafka.”

“The hell you say, prince.”

“The hell I do. He’s Barbee now.”

Horatio bitch-slapped an imaginary demon and grabbed Hamlet by the collar. “There, the demons gone. You’ve been snorting stuff again, haven’t you?”

Hamlet shrugged.

“Dammit all to hell, my lord. You must stop this nonsense. Tell me, as you did about Kafka, do you converse with this Barbee?”

“Aye, Horatio. I’ve known him well. Not only is it inevitable that I’ll turn into a cockroach, but I’m doomed to have my face melted away by a being not of this world.”

“Oh, please. If you’re going to talk of fuckery, then I’ve nothing to do with you until you find yourself sober.”

“Watch out, Horatio!”

The Prince pushed his friend to the ground and thrust his blade through the air. Assuming it was at another hallucination, Horatio stood ready to lecture his college roommate. His finger was already pointed and a rant already formed. But when he arose the words dissipated. Hamlet held his sword, now a young lady was skewered on the end.

“I got one,” said the prince sheepishly.

St. Cripin's Day...er, uh..."Naked Metamorphosis"Day

2010-04-22T07:36:00.000-07:00

"And gentlemen in England well-read,

Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here

And hold their manhood cheaps while any speaks

The fought upon Naked Metamorphosis Day!"

There's subtle debate aobut the context of the above translation, true. Language was different in that time, and people read what they want to read. Regardless, St. Crispin's Day is a day when people are known to get naked and groovy and attempt transmogrification. So, why the hell not use this, eh? Y'know I never realized that "hold their manhood" part of this classic speech prior. Henry V has a whole new meaning to me.

As you can tell, Shakespeare was onto something. And he gets a cut from me, 'cause he's sort of a character in the book "Naked Metamorphosis". And I bastardized some of his characters, it's true. And that bastard's been leaving notes all around the place. Look above to see what he left with my blocks! But he still shows support like no other and he's issued, from beyond the grave mind you (there's always a bleeding ghost), a "smack down". Granted he calls it a "gentlemen's game" to sound flowery, but I know that it's a smack down. I can read between the lines.

"A gentlemen's game, a wager of fate," said the Bard. "To best the master of the written word, the good man shall proffer from his text and make mine own 'The Tragedy of Hamlet' wilt as doth the tulip in winter."

I told Shakes that write in prose. "Suck it," was my retort.

So the challenge holds. We're going to outsell the Bard himself. He's no longer a part of the living, but his ghost still lurks. I want that ghost to feel right foolish at my success.

Tomorrow I'll feature a few vignettes from the Carnageland/Naked Metamorphosis crossover. Until then, in the words of Roger Rabbit, "Help me, pppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppplease!

April 23rd is International Shakespeare Day. Here's what you can do:

Tell your local Shakespeare Company about the book;
Purchase a copy of "Naked Metamorphosis" from Amazon.
If you've purchased a copy of the book, post a review at Amazon.
Request that your local library carry this book (annoy them until they have no choice).
Post this blog post on your wall
Tell your facebook friends to do you a favor and purchase your friends book.

There's really all kinds of craziness happening, fine folks. There's no telling what's going to happen. But if Jordan Krall can outsell Louis L'amour, I've no doubt that the Fates will allow me to best Shakespeare at his own game.

See you all tomorrow,

Eric

Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, versus Aliens from Outer Space

2010-04-20T14:57:00.000-07:00

CLICK THE PICTURE TO ENLARGE. It's totally worth it...especially to see Polonius as Dick Cheney!

In the 60's and 70's crossovers were all the rage in popculture. The Harlem Globetrotters, The Addams Family and numerous others were always making cameos on "Scooby Doo". Likewise, many series employed the crossover to garner ratings. So, it's not really all that original, but it worked then and a couple of authors feel it can work now.

In "Naked Metamorphosis", I tried to imagine Shakespeare's "Hamlet" if it were retold by Franz Kafka, and then that version was toyed with by William S. Burroughs. Thus far, I've been told it worked to hilarious ends.

In "Carnageland", David Barbee indulged in his juvenile, gaming, A-D-D antics and told the tale of an alien set on destroying everything in its path.

Initially I thought there was no way to merge these two into an alternate tale. Little did I know, author David Barbee had a few tricks up his sleeve. In order to achieve this vision, David Barbee took the Hamlet retold by two authors and added his own touches. Well, shit, I thought. Now what have I gotten into?

David Barbee and I decided to use this bizarro set-up as a little experiment. Okay, I conceded, let's do it and see what happens.

April 23rd is Shakespeare Day - it's the day that commemorates William Shakespeare's death. To that end, I'm trying to outsell Hamlet on that day. So, buy a copy, will ya? And while you're there, you should probably try to snag a copy of "Carnageland" so you'll at least have an inkling at what sort of insanity you're getting yourself into.

Naked Metamorphosis: http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Metamorphosis-Eric-Mays/dp/1933929901/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1256933074&sr=8-1

Carnageland: http://www.amazon.com/Carnageland-David-W-Barbee/dp/1933929952/ref=pd_sim_b_2

I posted a bracket here a week back where Barbee's characters are pitted against Shakespeare's characters. And, I've even devised a little story that sort of merges these two tales. It works, hopefully, to hilarious ends once again. I mean, just look at the original artwork above for these two! God, this could actually be good.

On April 23rd check back to find out the first round winners! There are surprises aplenty. Trust me.

Eric

The Author Speaks Series is Moving

2010-04-20T11:45:00.000-07:00

Sorry, gang. But as of today, the Author Speaks is housed at a new locale - www.theauthorsspeak.com. I'd appreciate it if everyone became a follower there. I want to cultivate this site more for the promotions of my books, my quirky rants, and my outlet to explore new fiction.

Thanks!
Eric

The Author Speaks: Jordan Krall

2010-04-14T10:44:00.000-07:00

There are authors that are capable of juggling so many different styles and coming out of each smelling like roses and there are some authors that just plain suck at it. Elmore Leonard writes westerns and hard crime mysteries, both in a seemingly appropriate voice. He’s even dabbled in merging those two somewhere in between (“The Hot Kid” is a good example of this). For a long time Stephen King has ventured from hard horror into the dramatic and back. Some of the failures, however, would be James Patterson and Michael Crichton (sorry, Mikie, I know you’re flying with angels [or suspended in a cloud of nanobites] but your pirate novel sucked).

When I first read “Piecemeal June” by Jordan Krall, I thought I’d found an author with a truly unique voice. I’d no idea how unique. “Piecemeal June” is a tale that dabbles in a macabre world where a man, living above an adult novelty store, assembles a living, breathing sex doll. The concept, I felt, was a little reaching and the story is definitely in the crags and caverns of bizarro. But, the concept alone was what interested me; the story and the writing are what captured me.

Shortly after, “Squid Pulp Blues” was released by Eraserhead Press. I’m famously pro-novel, anti-novella, so I was elated to see that “Squid Pulp Blues” was a full length collection (3-novellas all set in the same seedy world). Upon examining the cover of the new Jordan Krall book – that sinister looking squid-man holding a gun and trying to pass itself off as Bogie in a Raymond Chandler story – I was salivating at enjoying another horror tale. What I got was a gritty crime tale (ala Elmore Leonard) and I was not in the least disappointed. In fact, I was blown away and thought that this book was infinitely better than “Piecemeal June”.

In “Fistful of Feet”, Jordan tackles the Spaghetti Western genre and, once again, rises to the challenge. His knowledge of the styles he chooses to write in are well learned. Jordan Krall is also an amazing author to read, as you can truly see the evolution of a literary talent. Now, he's working to get "Fistful of Feet" to be the #1 bestselling western of all time!

I’ve spoken to Jordan on a few occasions and there’s always a consistency: Jordan will talk about a wide variety of subjects that are near and dear to him. There aren’t too many authors who can shift gears from Will Smith the “actor” to flying underwear and tie it all into the mythology of the Karate Kid with ease.

I had the pleasure of interviewing Jordan Krall this week, in celebration of his “Bizarro Spaghetti Dinner” on April 16th, 2010. Find out more about that here: www.filmynoir.com

Eric Mays: Jordan, I'm going to get to the important questions first and foremost. You seem to have a thing for squid - not just in "Squid Pulp Blues", but also in "Fistful of Feet" and "Piecemeal June". Why squid? Do you enjoy fresh calamari or loathe it? Did you have a childhood experience? Is it part of your sideshow act?

Jordan Krall: I’m not sure where it started. The first appearance of my obsession with squid is in my novella KING SCRATCH which was written before any of my other books but will be published this summer. I actually dislike seafood and have a strong aversion to even the smell of it. But it’s a love/hate thing because I’m fascinated by sea life especially squid and spider crabs. And in a way, I want to like seafood.. if that makes any sense at all.

EM: "Fistful of Feet" pays homage to the Spaghetti Western and Giallo films. What compelled you to write a novel playing by the rules of these genres?

JK: With Fistful of Feet, I played by the rules but I wasn’t too conscious of it. A lot of it just came naturally. Anyone who knows me even a little bit knows I love movies and those are two of my favorite genres. There’s just something about the Spaghetti Western that’s special. I think part of the reason why I’m attracted to them is because it reminds me of my grandfather. Giallo movies are just so cool, many being sleazy murder mysteries. That’s what a lot of the American slasher movies are missing: a good mystery. But it’s more than just that. Just think of the cool seventies music, the black leather gloves, the razors, the red herrings.

EM: Was it hard incorporating these two together?

JK: Not really because in my mind, those seem so compatible. It also helps that my favorite films from those genres came from the same country and approximate time period. All of those genre devices are already in my head anyway. You don’t even want to know how often I think about killers in black gloves.

EM: Your main character is Calamaro, from New Jersey. Stephen King once said that he pictured his gunslinger, Roland, as Clint Eastwood. Who were you channeling when you designed Calamaro?

JK: I actually didn’t picture him as any real person. I believe that if I did that, I might have him start acting like that actor instead of my own creation. I did pattern some of his personality after various tough-guy characters but it wasn’t a major aspect of my writing Calamaro. He was his own man, so to speak.

EM: I know that you're a bit of a film buff. When most people think of Spaghetti Westerns they gravitate towards early Clint Eastwood and Sergio Leone's work. What are some of your favorites within the genre? I'm assuming "Django" is there.

JK: Oh yeah, the Sergio Leone films and “Django” are obvious favorites. Other than that: The Big Gundown, Sabata, the Sartana films, Cut Throats Nine, Death Rides a Horse, and Companeros.

EM: Does the western genre still garner the interest it used to?

JK: No. If you just look at the late 1950s through the late 1960s, Westerns were more popular than vampire novels are now. There were dozens of western shows, hundreds of movies (not even counting the ones coming out of Europe), and novels. Now, there are western movies here and there but not the deluge that appeared decades ago. Personally, I love old westerns. But the last good western was “Open Range” with Kevin Costner. Not as good as Eastwood’s “Unforgiven”, but it was definitely a breath of fresh air.

EM: What are some of your other influential favorite films?

JK: How long do you want this interview to be? (haha!) Let’s see. Other than Spaghetti Westerns and Giallo….Halloween III: Season of the Witch, Lost Highway, scores of Charles Bronson movies but especially Mr. Majestyk, Pulp Fiction, Suspiria, Road to Perdition, Hardcore (with George C. Scott), Rolling Thunder, Blast of Silence, The Asphalt Jungle, Killer’s Kiss, Flaming Creatures, Messiah of Evil, Eraserhead, Hitchcock films, Last Man on Earth, Gleaming the Cube, The Holy Mountain, Videodrome, lots of film noir flicks, films by Andy Milligan, and every single film starring Ginger Rogers.

EM: I’ve heard that you're a fan of "Karate Kid". Which is the best of the movies?

JK: “Karate Kid Part 3”. Don’t scoff. It’s an over-the-top film that is bound to be a cult classic in twenty or thirty years. It pretty much has the same formula as the first but it trumps it by the brilliant performance by Thomas Ian Griffith as Terry Silver, president of Dynatox Industries. Griffith is simply awesome in that role. The dialogue is quotable beyond belief (much of it coming from Griffith’s character). And let’s be clear: there are only THREE Karate Kid movies and they all star Ralph Macchio.

EM: Are you looking forward to the reboot?

JK: In the words of “actor” Will Smith: “Aww, hell no”. Will Smith is pissing on the grave of Pat Morita. What a self-indulgent piece of masturbatory “cinema” it is. Casting your own son as the underdog who triumphs over bullies? Transparent beyond belief, trying to make his son an icon like Daniel Laruso. Give me a break. Don’t destroy a fucking classic in the process of trying to make your son successful. I’ll probably see the movie, though, tomatoes in hand. Of course, I’m not above swallowing my words. If it’s good, I’ll say so. However, it will never compare to the original KK trilogy. (again: note I said TRILOGY).

EM: Getting back to your writing…do you think "Fistful of Feet" will serve one day as a cautionary tale against unprotected sex and sexually transmitted diseases?

JK: I thought of it more as a “How-To” guide.

EM: You've mentioned before that you're a pretty big fan of Elmore Leonard. I can definitely see some influences of that in both "Squid Pulp Blues" and "Fistful of Feet". So, Elmore the western writer or Elmore the crime hound?

JK: Leonard’s crime fiction is my favorite. His westerns are good but you can tell he’s more comfortable writing about modern scumbags.

EM: “Piecemeal June” felt a little more horror than the last two books you've written. Are you a fan of the horror genre?

JK: Yeah, there was a good chance that I would’ve been a horror novelist if I didn’t decide to indulge my interest in weird/bizarro fiction. Horror has always been the genre I gravitate to ever since I was a kid.

EM: Any plans on returning to the genre of "things bumping (and grinding) in the night"?

JK: Yeah, I’m actually in the process of writing two hardcore horror novellas but they will definitely have a bizarro slant to them.

EM: Boxers or briefs, Jordan? And yes, you're welcome for the non-sequitar.

JK: Briefs. Though for a long time I wore boxers. But before that, briefs. And when I was in fourth grade I had a dream about flying underwear.

EM: In the back of "Fistful of Feet" you reference your wife, your stepdaughter, and your son. It's got to be crazy juggling writing, your day job, and the family life! How do you do it?

JK: It’s difficult and I’m sure I don’t write as much as my peers. Even though I wish to be successful in my writing, I have no intention of neglecting my family in order to do it especially my son who’s only 21 months old. I want to spend as much time with him as I can. That’s my number one priority. Everything else, including writing, comes after.

EM: What advice would you offer to aspiring writers who are caught in the tendrils of everyday life?

JK: Don’t let life overwhelm you… just use some of that craziness for inspiration. Don’t be lazy. Don’t try to romanticize writing and wait for so-called inspiration. Please allow me to give you a real world example of what I mean. I was talking to this aspiring writer a few years ago. He was able to write full time because his girlfriend made a lot of money. Sounds like a great set-up, right? No, because he refused to make himself write everyday. He said he couldn’t push himself and that he needed to wait to be inspired. So what did he do instead? He played video games. That’s a fucking waste. I’d love to not be able to work a day job so I could write. But there it is, a guy like that waiting around for some fucking act of god to make him a good writer. And what is he doing now? Nothing. He’s no further into his writing “career” than he was two years ago. Anyway, getting past that rant, more advice: write whenever you can even if it’s just a fragment of a story. Read a lot and not only in the genre you want to write in. Look at the authors you like to read and find out WHY you like to read them. Then try to mimic some of it. And lastly, don’t just write to entertain yourself. You have to think of the reader, too. I don’t care how much fun you had writing it, if it bores the reader, they’re going to chuck it in the trash and then never buy a book from you again.

EM: What's up next for you? More squid?

JK: Ha, yeah. Squid-spaghetti tacos all around. But as for books...I got KING SCRATCH coming out from Black Rainbows Press. Also, a nonfiction book about movies coming from Bucket O’ Guts Press. And then TENTACLE DEATH TRIP will be published by Eraserhead Press this fall. This book will be fucking awesome. It’s Death Race 2000 meets the Cthulhu mythos … grindhouse style.

EM: I heard that you’re throwing a spaghetti dinner online? What? I’ve heard that this “Bizarro Spaghetti Dinner” is a festival all about you! Isn’t this just the foundation for a cult?

JK: Being a cult leader has always been my dream and what better way to lure people in than with spaghetti? Actually, it was inspired by author Kevin Shamel's similar promotion for his book Rotten Little Animals. Basically it's a day to get the word out on my novel “Fistful of Feet” and celebrate it's Spaghetti Western-ess.

EM: And this “event” is taking place on April 16th, right? What do you want from people on April 16th? Why?

JK: I'd like people to spread the word on “Fistful of Feet”. Tell your friends on Facebook, Twitter, My Space, etc. If you haven't bought the book, buy it April 16th so my Amazon ranking can go up. If it does, Amazon will see what a hot book it is and it'll take over. If it takes over, the rest of the bizarro authors will get exposure as well. If you already have Fistful of Feet, consider buying a copy for a friend or for your local library. I appreciate any and all help. I never forget a good deed. The reason why I'm doing this is to not only sell books (which will help pay bills...I'm not a rich man, you know) but also to spread bizarro. The success of one bizarro author can mean success for many others. Thanks to everyone in advance! And thank you for the interview, Eric!

EM: Thanks, Jordan!

Jordan Krall’s books are certainly worth a peek. You may look at one of them and see it priced at around $10, but I’ll tell you to pick them all up. Why? Well, as mentioned, Jordan writes in many different styles AND if you pick up all three you’ll get free shipping on all the books. And, really, what’s better than free?

Next week’s spotlight will shift, slightly, to the horror genre and Mr. David Agranoff. David’s the author of the upcoming horror novel “Hunting the Moon Tribe”. We’ll discuss the true nature of fear, examine Maoist ideals, and try to figure out why everyone is Kung fu fighting. Be back here for the interview on 4/22/2010.

Until then, pick up the books discussed here by using the links below:
“Fistful of Feet”:http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1933929898/ref=s9_simh_gw_p14_i3?pf_rd_m=ATVPDKIKX0DER&pf_rd_s=center-2&pf_rd_r=1RX5JPPD6X629KH44CZJ&pf_rd_t=101&pf_rd_p=470938631&pf_rd_i=507846
“Squid Pulp Blues”: http://www.amazon.com/Squid-Pulp-Blues-Jordan-Krall/dp/1933929685/ref=pd_sim_b_1
”Piecemeal June”: http://www.amazon.com/Piecemeal-June-Jordan-Krall/dp/1933929634/ref=pd_sim_b_1
The KK Trilogy: http://www.amazon.com/Karate-Kid-Collection-Four-Film/dp/B0006OBPTA/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=dvd&qid=1271073631&sr=8-2
If you’re an author that would like to be a part of the Thursday Author Speaks Series, please email ericm@witty.com. To read “Naked Metamorphosis” by Eric Mays, purchase at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Metamorphosis-Eric-Mays/dp/1933929901/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1271093268&sr=8-1

Jordan Krall: Author Spotlight

2010-04-09T07:55:00.000-07:00

Despite the ridiculousness of this picture, it's a good representation of the level of dorkdom that Jordan Krall has achieved. This may come across as an insult, but it's certainly not at all. I've always said, if you're going to be a fanboy go all the way and avoid half-assing it. Jordan's definitely outdone himself.

In talking with Jordan Krall you get the sense that he loves looking at the world through twisted goggles. It's probably why he's jumped into the bizarro genre, and the genre has embraced him. But, what Jordan Krall likes are things that are not necessarily weird. Take for example Jordan's love of Elmore Leonard and gritty noir. Then examine his second book, a collection of novellas entitled "Squid Pulp Blues". SPB is a prime example of what Elmore Leonard (or even the great Raymond Chandler) would read like if it were shared by John Waters, David Lynch, and Dave Cronenberg. (I've taken to calling David Cronenberg "Dave". That's how we roll.)

Talking to him even further you'll uncover some other Jordan faves: Ginger Rogers, dark and visceral horror, post-apocalyptic movies, Italian giallo, Spaghetti westerns, and "space rape" (there's a story there, but I'll save it for another time). Examine his most recent book "Fistful of Feet" and you'll see that it is possible for a fanboy of the Spaghetti Western to twist that genre on its ear and create a very unique and original experience. Oh sure, the classic cliches are all there - the bad good guy with shady intentions, the whore with teh heart of gold, the roughneck Confederates, savage Indians, the works. But under that is an original tale that touches on such an array of subjects, you cannot compare it to anything you've ever experienced (exactly like SPB).

I guess I'm a Jordan Krall fanboy. Perhaps one day I'll write a Jordan Krall-inspired tale and twist it my own literary conventions. Who knows.

What I do know is this: Jordan should have more fans than he already does! I realize that people aren't reading as much as they once did. While this saddens me, it doesn't sadden me near as much as WHAT people are reading. Rather than looking for something truly original, I see people picking up the same tripe.

Most of you know that I'm always willing to recommend a good read. I try not to steer you the wrong way. I'm telling you, if you want something truly different, take a look at Jordan Krall's Squid Pulp Blues (for noir) or Fistful of Feet (for western). If you don't like either genre I'm sure you know someone who does and may like it. So, really, you've got no choice or reason not to.

On April 16th, 2010, we're honoring Jordan and trying to cultivate his garden of fans. For information you can visit his website at www.filmynoir.com or visit me at facebook for information. Basically, we're having a cyber-party to promote Jordan and generate some new kick-ass fans. If you're not familiar with Jordan, then perhaps you should swing over to amazon and pick up a copy of two of his book.

Fistful of Feet: http://www.amazon.com/Fistful-Feet-Jordan-Krall/dp/1933929898/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1270825828&sr=8-1

Squid Pulp Blues: http://www.amazon.com/Squid-Pulp-Blues-Jordan-Krall/dp/1933929685/ref=pd_sim_b_2

Order a copy and acquaint yourself this Jordan's unique voice. While you're there, be sure to remember that orders that are over $25 ship for free! So, a certain book by yours truly, "Naked Metamorphosis", can round your order out (it needs some love too!).

Please join me on April 16th and honor a fellow writer, creator, and friend. And, have fun yourself.

Thanks, and drive-thru,

**keep your eyes peeled on all the festivities happening in the month of May(s). Details will be coming soon.

April 23rd Carnageland Versus Naked Metamorphosis

2010-04-07T07:35:00.000-07:00

April 23rd is coming. It’s a date that commemorates the death of William Shakespeare (a prominent figure in the Naked Metamorphosis). And, as some of you have seen on facebook, it’s the week before a major Mays launch in, well, the month of May(s). David “Carnageland” Barbee and myself are offering a little teaser. We’re matching wits (and universes) to bring you the UFC of Bizarro – Carnageland meets Naked Metamorphosis. Mark your calendars for round 1, which will feature stories and art from this epic tournament. Since tickets are sold out you’ll have to just wait. AND, you’ll have to pick up your copies of the respective books for tips on how to manage your bracket:

Carnageland: www.amazon.com/Carnageland-David-W-Barbe.../ref=pd_bxgy_b_img_c

Naked Metamorphosis: www.amazon.com/Naked-Metamorphosis-Eric-...270650418&sr=8-1

Until then – we (David and I) would love to hear your feedback…

Rotten Little Animals Day

2010-04-05T11:20:00.000-07:00

This is from Kevin Shamel, author of "Rotten Little Animals", which is kind of like an E.B. White book gone horribly awry. It's like Quentin Tarantino and Kevin Smith got their hands on "Charlotte's Web" and did it their way. Anyway, author Shamel has launched an official holiday for his book. And why not? He can, after all.

This from shamelesscreations.com:

Hi! The following note is long. I understand that you may not want to read it all right away. So here’s the gist of it:
Everything is great with Rotten Little Animals
I’m halfway to my goal
I need your help
Thank you!

Dear Friends,
It’s been almost 6 months since the launch of my first book, ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS. Most likely, if you are reading this, you have been a friend or a fan in some way, so THANK YOU. I greatly appreciate all the support, help, reviews, sales, and all the amazing people I have met through this experience. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
In the past six months, I’ve worked hard to promote ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS, and it’s really been making a difference. So far, I’ve sold over 100 copies on Amazon.com, roughly 40 more on my own, and a number of copies at different conventions. In the past year, I’ve attended Crypticon, BizarroCon, OryCon, and RadCon. Even more exciting is that people are LOVING it. I’ve gotten over 30 reviews at Amazon and rave reviews on my Rotten Little Puppet Show when people see it.
You may already know this, but ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS was published by Eraserhead Press as part of their New Bizarro Author Series. This series gives more new authors a chance to be published. Eraserhead wants to see how dedicated the new authors are, and if they can write books that sell and then actively sell those books. In order to be considered for a five-book deal with Eraserhead, one of the qualifications is that I need to sell a MINIMUM of 200 copies of ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS on Amazon.com in one year to prove I’ve got what it takes. With the current state of the publishing industry, becoming a cult sensation online, and specifically at Amazon, is one of the best ways to establish myself as an author.
As you can see, we are almost halfway through the year and I am about halfway to my goal of selling 200 copies on Amazon.com.
To kick off the second half of this year, I’m declaring April 5, 2010, ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS day. (No, I have absolutely no power to do this. I’m doing it anyway.) On April 5, 2010, ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS will be exactly 6 months old. With your help, I’d like to kick off the second half of the year in a big way, and hopefully easily and quickly make Eraserhead’s initial goal of 200 copies sold. You may ask, How can I help? If you do ask that, there are myriad ways that I’d greatly appreciate:
If you haven’t already, buy the book on or around April 5th on Amazon.com. (If we can get a number of people purchasing it on the same day, the Amazon algorithms could help to push ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS on to be advertised more by Amazon.)
If you already have a copy of the book, do you have weird friend(s) who might also enjoy a copy? You could purchase it for them or talk them into it.
Fan ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS on Facebook.
Invite your friends.
Share this note on Facebook, your blog, or anywhere.
Post a link to ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS on Amazon.com on your Facebook or Myspace page. Include a glowing review.
Review ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS on Amazon.com and post that review to your page.
Do you have your own blog? Include a review of ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS on your blog, including the link to Amazon.com.
Do you have any contacts at radio shows, tv shows, or newspapers? I’d love to talk more about ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS and Bizarro in general in more venues. Hook me up.
Anything else you can think of to get the word out about my book is WIN!
Let me know what you’ve done so I can thank you personally.
It’s been a fabulous year of dreams coming true for me. Thank you so much for being here with me. But this is just the beginning. There’s still much to do in order for me to ensure my future as a professional author. I truly appreciate any and all help you can give.
THANK YOU!
Have great days,

NYUCK, NYUCK (part 3)

2010-03-31T04:29:00.000-07:00

And now, the thrilling conclusion to "Nyuck, Nyuck". Thanks for reading, folks:

NYUCK, NYUCK (part three)

William S. Burroughs had thrice wandered into the town of Bethlehem; two of those times had been completely unintentional.

After wandering the wasteland desert for a spell, William decided he really wasn’t much of an Eagle Scout. There was no way a city dweller like himself could possibly survive the elements. Assuming that he’d succeed at nothing more then feeding a flock of buzzards, and believing that men were inherently good (which was a thought that he did not subscribe to – he’d seen the horror that lurked within a man’s chest) he hightailed it back to Bethlehem. How he’d manage to convince Burl to “take him back”, he was unsure. All he knew was that it was worth the effort.

Burl was placing the coffin, of the man with steer horns, on display outside the local tavern. Though William’s eyes were filled with grit and flecks of tumbleweed, he could see Burl’s face turn from amusement to anger as the undertaker caught sight of his sorry ass strolling back into town.

“Get on,” Burl had said, shooing the much hated beat out of town.

The second time William had stumbled into Bethlehem had been a complete surprise. He had wandered the desert for hours, though it felt like days. He would pass cacti and other desert flora. Delirium had made it so that each and every time he passed a cactus, he would do a sweeping bow and introduce himself. Fuck – the combination of heat, exhaustion, and withdrawal were sending him on something that was starting to rival most of his trips.

A couple of cacti William tried to cut open. While not an Eagle Scout, he seemed to remember Kerouac saying you could cut open a cactus and find water. What Kerouac had failed to explain – and what William failed to comprehend or even think about – was how one went about doing such a thing without tools. Burroughs had succeeded at nothing more than impaling fingers and palm with spikes and needles.

One line of cacti had purple blooms sprouting from the skin. Burroughs carefully picked several of those and shoved them in his maw. He did this not for nourishment or any liquid they might be carrying. No, he did this strictly out of curiosity. Someone discovered magic mushrooms and the Indians had discovered peyote. If he were going to be stuck in a desert, dammit, William S. Burroughs would discover what flora or fauna would get you high (he was not beyond eating a Gila monster lizard if he had an inkling of its potency).

A flock of seagulls followed him overhead. He hated seagulls. Buzzards and vultures had the decency to wait until the spirit left the body before chowing down. Seagulls just went in for whatever they wanted – and here he was, cooking like jerky.

As he was about to surrender to weakness, William caught sight of something that gave him hope. It was the silhouette of a town, rippling like a lake reflection, dead ahead.

A new found energy sparked and his legs sprang into action. As he ran his thoughts bounced back and forth between hope and despair:

Thank God! If I ever meet you big Fellow, I’m going to have to break out my best shit. Oh, we’ll smoke a bowl.

And…

Fuck! It’s just a mirage. It’s got to be a mirage! There’s no town. There’s no seagulls. This is just hell, pure and simple.

He skidded to a stop just before he could smash into the walls of one of the town’s buildings. Cautiously he extended a hand and rapped his knuckles on the wall. Knock, knock, knock. Seemed he owed some good shit to God after all.

He stepped into the town and felt his feet sizzle. William tiptoed towards the shadows cast by the awnings of the local tavern. He never registered that there was no chortles of drunken cheering coming from the bar.

In one mighty leap, William sprang from the main strip of dusty road onto the wooden porch of the pub. He was greeted to relief; the planks of wood were definitely warm, but nothing like that scorched earth. Then he saw it and his heart stopped beating.

On the porch, in a box, was a dead man with steer horns coming out his head.

“Oh, stupid luck,” muttered William. “I went in a damned circle.”

“No, no, no, no,” Burl chattered. The undertaker was rushing across the street waving a horse leg at him. “I tol’ you. Now get.”

So once more, William had headed back into the wastelands. And once more, he found himself strolling back into the streets of Bethlehem. He realized he lacked survival skills, which included navigational sensibilities, but he was fairly sure this was beyond coincidence. There was no way he’d traveled in a circle. None. Each time he’d wandered the desert, he’d seen different cacti with different blooms. He’d eaten blue ones and purple ones and one pink one. No way was this coincidental.

Something was drawing him in. Like a tractor beam. Perhaps he was indeed trapped in a Sisyphean Hell, from which there was no escape.

“Look mister,” said Burl, rushing from out his barn. “You can’t be here.”

“I’ve no desire to be here, Mr. Ives. But just when I think I’m out, it draws me back in.”

“Please,” said Burl, tears welling up in his eyes. Each tear drop evaporated before it could roll down his cheek. “You gotta leave. You got no idea what them boys are capable of.”

As if on cue, the rumbling started.

Burroughs and Ives both flicked their attention to the desert beyond Bethlehem. A great cloud of fog and sin headed towards them. Within that thunderous rumble of giant horse hoofs on cracked earth, they could make out the high falsetto laughter, random gunshots, and someone crying “nyuck, nyuck, nyuck.”

“They find you here,” Burl started, “they’ll go ahead and string me up, too. You gotta…”

The undertaker’s words trailed off. A bullet to the dome will have that affect. One minute he was frantically trying to push the beat out of town and the next William’s face was showered with brain matter. His face looked like the start of a Pollock.

The bullet had entered the back of Burl’s oversized head and stirred around a bit. Then it exploded out one of his eyeballs, creating a geyser of vitreous fluid and brain particles. The large man swayed a few times then tumbled to the ground. William was sad to see him go, but he was grateful to have a Mister In-Between when the bullets were flying.

The writer panicked and froze as the cloud drew nigh. The rumbling rattled his eardrums and the high-pitched cackles sent shivers down his spine. Then it was all over.

Burroughs didn’t hear the men, which instinctively made him thing he’d gone deaf from the thunderous rattling. He wasn’t even aware it had all come to an end until one of those massive horses snorted and sent a cloud of phlegmy nasal mist into his hair. He slapped at the grossness that had caked his head and slowly turned his gaze upward. The star blotted out most everything. He could make out shadows, silhouettes against that blinding, piercing light. There were three figures – one he knew was Jew-fro (Larry, he remembered), one was Bowl-cut (Moe), and one seemingly had a bald head and no neck. He could also feel the heavy huffs of horse sinuses.

“So, this is the wise guy, eh?” shrilled a voice. It must have belonged to the new member of the gang, the bald one.

“Yeah, this is him,” said Moe.

A massive hand came down and grabbed Burroughs by the hair, jerking him upward.

“He don’t look like too much to me,” said the newer voice.

William felt the man drag him across the street, much the same as a caveman would have done to a mate. He couldn’t see with the light in his eyes, but he could sense that the other two – Moe and Larry – were following behind them. In a festive manner at that. They were singing an odd song as if it were a blood chant.

“B-A, bay. B-E, be. B-I, bicky-bye, B-O, bo. Bicky-bye-bo. B-U, boo. Bicky-bye-bo-boo! C-A, cay…”

The childishness of the song in contrast with the macabre violence that was about befall forced William to release his bowels.

“Smells like he shit hisself,” cackled Larry.

William’s head felt like it exploded as the large man cabertossed him into a building. Darkness fell around him, but it was not from fading consciousness, rather the absence of that godforsaken star above. He was inside something. He fluttered his eyes like a butterfly on speed, hoping to catch the slightest glimpse of his attacker. Blurred vision surrendered their forms. He spotted the silhouettes of Larry and Moe, but he knew they were there. The other was a hulk of a man – easily three hundred pounds – with a shaved head. Curly, Burroughs thought, that’s cute.

Curly approached Burroughs, a sausage-sized finger pointed at him like a javelin.

“So, the boys tell me you’re a wise guy.”

“I’m sorry they said such a thing. I wouldn’t consider myself any wiser than anyone else.”

“You talk like a wise guy,” said Curly, jabbing his thick finger into William’s chest. “You like to use them pretty words. You know what we do with wise guys around here?”

“I haven’t a clue,” said William, his voice quavering with fear.

“You’re a wise guy, I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Please!” William spit the word out in a whirlwind of spittle and tears. He sniffled hard.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Curly, his voice oddly soothing. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I was just spookin’ you a bit.”

The big man gently held William’s head in his hands maternally. William stared at the brute through tear-stained eyes. He snuffled hard.

“Sounds like you got a runny nose,” cooed Curly. “I can help you with that, if’n you want.”

“If you feel charitable enough,” William said weakly.

“Absolutely.” Curly’s cooing had been replaced with the mischievousness that had been there before.

The man pinched William’s nose with his first two fingers. He squeezed hard and William felt something crack within. In a massive display, Curly brought his other hand down hard on the fingers pinching the nose like he was swinging a mallet. POW!

“You got his nose!” squealed Larry.

“You got it good!” voiced Moe.

For that instant, William was convinced that Curly had indeed gotten his nose. He remembered that retarded game crazy uncles used to play with nieces and nephews. That “I’ve got your nose” game. William was certain that Curly had just given him the reality edition of that game. He’d knocked his nose clean off.

He was happy to find that he was wrong…sort of.

The author/wise guy brought his hands up to his face. He wheezed snotty blood all over his fingers, an indicator that this was bad. Slowly he felt where his nose should be. There was a cavernous hole in his head that was spitting blood like Ol’ Faithful. Fuck! His nose was really gone. Nope, there it was. His fingers fumbled with a dangling piece of flesh. It felt like a big skin tag. As he fingered it, though, he knew it was his nose. He could feel the chunks of cartilage.

“Boys, it looks like I didn’t quite get it all!”

Curly reached down, snatched that dangling nose of William’s, and ripped the thing right from his forehead. William opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. Larry and Moe cackled in the background.

“Nyuck, nycuk, nyuck,” said Curly. “I got his nose.”

William began crawling across the wooden floor, intent on crawling out the front door. As futile as the idea was, he was operating on instinct, not logic.

“Feed it to him, Curly! Make him eat it,” said Moe.

“That’s disgusting,” said Larry.

“It is disgusting. Like eatin’ a booger samich,” said Curly. “I like it.”

Burroughs continued his escape, looking like a geriatric inchworm. He heard the conversation that was surrounding him, heard them threaten to feed him his own nose, but couldn’t quite comprehend it.

Larry and Moe seized the struggling beat by the shoulders. They flipped him over and held him tight. His vision was still blurred, but he saw Curly’s ginormous hand gripping his bloody proboscis.

“Please!” tried William once again.

“Why soitnly,” Curly said. Burroughs knew he was saying “certainly”.

Curly shoved the thing into William’s mouth. The two stooges that were holding him gripped his jaw line and forced him to chew. William felt bile rush up his throat with every crunch. He swallowed hard and felt bits of cartilage and flesh flow down his esophagus.

The human body is a funny thing. It’s no surprise that a person can drink themselves silly until two in the morning and wake up still drunk. Things have a way of staying in the body longer than we’d expect them to. Sometimes it’s temporary; other times, not so much. It definitely depends on what it is you’re imbibing and how often you find yourself doing it.

William S. Burroughs was a living, breathing Petri dish of drug research. He’d snorted, smoked, toked, eaten, dropped, and inhaled anything and everything. Despite that he was not elderly or geriatric, decades of the lifestyle had led to a certain tolerance to drugs as a whole. Meanwhile the residue that had been left over – from every spliff, every line snorted, every drop of LSD – had terraformed his body into their own personal village.

The withdrawal had been a bitch. Now, as he chewed that nose, he felt left over cocaine re-entering his bloodstream. He tasted the sweetness of marijuana residue. He sucked the blood from the nose and instantly felt the oncoming rush of a high. His mind worked up imagery: William S. Burroughs was Popeye the Sailor Man and that nose was his motherfucking can of Spinach. He watched the scene playing in his head as his biceps ballooned into bowling balls and his calves inflated. He’d gotten a fix and he was unstoppable.

The movements were fluid and they occurred without William being fully aware of it. It was as if his subconscious and his body were having a private conversation. His hands turned to fists and the arms jerked upwards violently. Each fist made contact with a nose – Larry’s and Moe’s.
“Packed with peanuts,” William said, though not sure why.

With the two stooges hunched over in pain, William opened his left fist and slapped Curly across the face. It was fast and vicious and William could feel his hand still vibrating. Curly buckled in pain.

Curly regained his balance and glowered at the beat. William saw he’d drawn blood from the big man’s face. He liked that.

“Why I oughta…” Curly said, and began rushing towards him.

“Come get some,” replied William. He sidestepped just before the big man could barrel into him like a freight train. Immediately behind William was a wooden post that existed to help keep the top floor on top. Curly didn’t have time to stop. He hit head first, the wood splintering under the attack. A chunk of wood split through the big man’s dome sending blood and brain matter across the floor below.

Larry and Moe were awestruck. They were too far away to recruit Curly Joe (a doppelganger who sometimes stood in for Curly). They watched William to see what he would do next. The writer wasted no time.

William S. Burroughs bitch slapped Moe across the cheek. It wasn’t as hard as he’d slapped Curly, but it did send the stooge to the floor.

“Why I oughta…” started Larry.

“Like talking to a broken record. You all just keep saying the same thing.”

William brought his hand up like a cobra, his index and forefingers ready to strike. His arm waggled in front of Larry’s face, going up, then down, then up again. Larry was transfixed. Then the cobra struck.

Two fingers poked into Jew-fro’s eye sockets. “Look who’s blind now!” shouted William. He jabbed further and felt warm vitreous fluid wash over his fingers. He wiggled his fingers while they were still in the sockets and felt his fingernails scratch the brain. Larry slumped to the floor.

For the first time since stumbling into Bethlehem, Burroughs had a smile on his face.

BONG!

The noise reverberated within his dome. He’d forgotten all about Moe, who had seen fit to take advantage of the situation by slamming something into William’s head.
Burroughs spun around to defend another blow. There was Moe, frying pan in hand, ready to strike out again.

“We hate wise guys ‘round here,” said Moe.

The beat needed to defend himself. He glanced around the room. Nada. He felt in his pocket. No dice. Then he saw something that might aid him. It was a canister of some sort jutting from Larry’s pocket. He ducked and grabbed the item.

“A seltzer bottle?” Moe guffawed. “What? You gonna squirt me, wise guy?”

And that was what William did. He made the bottle spit its contents right into Moe’s face.

“Wah, wah, wah,” William laughed.

Moe screamed in bloody agony.

“It’s just soda water! There’s no need to be a big baby.”

The stooge screamed again.

His vision was already fading – partially because of the blood and grit, partly because William himself was fading. He strained as hard as he could and glimpsed the grotesque vision. Moe’s face was sizzling. Steam rose from his head, and puss jutted from popping boils. The seltzer water was eating him alive. Or maybe it wasn’t soda after all. Perhaps it had been acid.
The screams grew softer and before long, Moe was a headless corpse on the floor.

William laughed, completely unsure why he was doing so. He fell to the floor and felt his head begin to split. It was literally splitting in two, a crack spreading from where his nose used to be. So this is what they mean by splitting headache!

He chuckled at his own joke – after all, nobody else would or could. The darkness came swift. First his eyes flickered out, then he couldn’t feel his arms or legs. He felt his heart rhythmically slow, each beat sending him further into hypnosis. He wondered if Jack and Allen ever made it to Mexico. That was his last thought, before death swooped over him and he was nothing more than a memory.

He died with a smile on his face and his hand raised offering a middle finger to the world. It was satisfying to have one final trip.

NYUCK, NYUCK (part two)

2010-03-30T04:36:00.000-07:00

The steeds trampled the earth beneath them. Their snorting sent violent clouds of haze into their wake. Each was larger than horses should be allowed to grow – more like Babe, Paul Bunyon’s big, blue ox. The sheer size of the beasts made their riders, at a distance, appear to be nothing more than dwarfs.

William watched through the cracks of the barn wall, his feet sizzling on the scorched earth beneath him. They were beginning to smell like bacon. Still, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from the scene unfolding in the streets. He bit into his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood, and kept his attention.

Out on the streets none of the residents of Bethlehem could be seen. Surely there were other residents here beside Burl Ives. The riders hadn’t reached the main strip that ran through the town, and already the landscape looked like chaotic vomit: a horse trough bubbled and boiled under the sun’s heat, several windows shattered as poorly aimed bullets burst through them, and piles of horse manure ignited, courtesy of the heated soil.

It was like every version of Armageddon William had ever heard of.

The horses rampaged into the main strip of Bethlehem; a hefty tumbleweed of fog ensconced them. As the dust settled, William caught glimpse of the men. They were odd and seemed out of place – though everything seemed out of place in this Sartre hell.

Both men were about the same height and each wore matching outfits – white button-up shirts that had yellowed over the years, turd-brown pants, and red suspenders. Neither man wore hats, but each wore a hefty belt that prominently featured two holstered pistols.

One of the men was grayer than he other, his skin thick and ashy. His hair was fashioned in an odd sort of way, as if someone had placed a bowl on his head and cut everything that hung past the rim. He also had a Hitler-like fashioned mustache that quivered in the warm breeze.
The other had a peachier complexion, like blood still flowed beneath his skin. His hair was auburn and stuck upright in crazed tendrils. One of William’s friends In New York had referred to a similar hairstyle as a “Jew-fro”.

A third man rode with them. Well, not so much rode as he was dragged. Two thick ropes were attached to the coffin that dragged behind the men. Inside the box, William could barely see, was a fellow that looked vaguely similar to the Hitler wannabe, sans mustache. The corpse had been dead for a bit – the eyes had been devoured by crows and the cheeks sunken in like fleshy craters. Looking at the corpse, William felt an odd connection, like he had been responsible for the man’s death.

That’s impossible, he thought. I was with Jack and Allen. That guy’s not a beat.

“Burroughs!” shouted the Hitler look-a-like. “Get your ass out here!”

“We ain’t got nobody named Burroughs here,” said a voice. William couldn’t see the owner, but instantly knew it was Burl. “Now you boys get on out of here. I ain’t lookin’ for no trouble.”

“Big Daddy, we don’t want no trouble from you. We just want Burroughs.”

“And, I b’lieve I just said, I they ain’t nobody named Burroughs here in town. Don’t try to muscle me around, Moe.”

The chills of withdrawal washed over William’s body. He felt thousands, nay millions, of spiders running across his skin. He felt the cool sweat rushing down his head. He looked down at his hands and saw them tremble. At that moment, William realized these were not symptoms of his withdrawal. Rather they were signs of pure terror. What were the odds that there was another person named Burroughs in this town? Even if it was spelled Burrows.

William returned his gaze to the cracks in the barn wall. Burl Ives came into view, approaching the two riders as if he was immune to fear and threats.

Jew-fro leapt off his horse and jabbed the hefty undertaker in the chest. “Lookee here, see. We know there’s a knucklehead named Burroughs here somewhere. We followed tracks that went this way.”

“Those tracks could have been made by anybody,” Burl said.

“They could’ve been made by anyone,” the man named Moe said, “but we know they came from Burroughs. Who do you think you’re talking to, Big Daddy? Do you really think Howard, Fine, and Howard are a bunch of maroons.”

Burl swallowed back a verbal jab. He’d always considered them stooges more so than maroons.

“And what do ya want with this guy Burroughs? What’d he do?” asked the undertaker.

“What’d he do?” asked Moe. He turned to his comrade. “Larry, the guy wonders what Burroughs did.”

“If he don’t know,” said Larry, “then he must be blind.”

Moe sauntered over to Burl. “You blind, Big Daddy?”

“Not last I checked. No sir.”

With deft, speed-of-light moves, Larry brought his index finger and middle finger, like a frog gig, and jabbed them into Burl’s eyes. The action wasn’t strong enough to gouge out the eyeballs, but Burl did drop to his knees and rubbed his eyes furiously.

“He’s blind now, Moe,” cackled Larry. “Nyuck, nyuck, nyuck.”

“Well since he’s blind,” said Moe to Larry, “I guess I better describe the scene. Y’see, this kid, Burroughs, he decides to up and shoot ol’ Shemp back here. He’s the one wearing the wooden kimono back there.”

Burl spoke, but his tone had turned somber. “I’m sorry for your loss. But they ain’t no Burroughs here.”

“You play your games, Big Daddy, and we’ll keep playing ours. Nobody happens upon Bethlehem my accident. This is the place you go to die. For this Burroughs fellow, we’re hoping to expedite that a bit. You be sure to let him know that. We’re going to bury brother Shemp and then we’ll be back.”

“And with Shemp out of the picture,” said Larry, “he’ll be dealing with brother Curly! Big Daddy, you want to make damn sure you’re out of the way when we get back.”

Not Curly, thought William, though he was unsure why. How did he know these people.

The stooges – or maroons – mounted their horses and exited the town in a thunderous rumbling.

Wiping the grit from his eyes, Burl headed back towards the barn. The childlike energy that he’d had minutes ago had all but faded. Now, he maintained a solemn and somber stance like every undertaker William had ever known (which wasn’t many).

With the action ended, William turned his attention to other things. Like his feet. The things hurt like a sumbitch (as that rat bastard, Ginsey, would have said). They smelled of bacon fat sizzling in a skillet and felt like a thousand scorpion stings. How he’d not noticed the severity prior was beyond him. This cursed scorched earth was literally cooking him. He could hear the hiss of searing flesh.

He leapt away from the barn wall and climbed onto the cot he’d found himself on when he slipped back into consciousness. The reprieve was temporary. He heard a spring door slap a door frame.

“William!” boomed Burl’s voice.

William did not answer, but his heart actually stopped a beat.

“William! Get on out here now.”

As well meaning as Burl seemed, William knew he should heed the request. The large man was capable of hammering steer horns into a man’s head (granted the task would have been much more difficult if the man had been alive), surely he’d have no trouble crushing him like the proverbial bug.

The first step was painful as the earth bit his feet. He jumped from shadowy spot to shadowy spot, all the while singing a frantic chorus of “fucks”.

“Is your name Burroughs?” Burl asked, not waiting for William to reach him.

This was a clustered mess. Should he say “no”, which he was inclined to do, then what would it mean for Burl? Would those boys actually return and gouge out his eyes like melon balls? Could he live with that?

Of course, answering “yes” was certain to deter his little breathing habit.

He opted to avoid the question completely and just offered a shrug.

“You are Burroughs, ain’t ye?”

“I suppose I am,” William said.

“Look, besides shooting Shemp, which was the dumbest of the dumb ideas a person could have, I don’t know what you did to piss them boys off. You gotta leave, mister. I can’t get involved with the likes of them…or you. Heckfire and tarnation is what’s comin’.”

William felt a sinking sensation inside, like his bowels were made of quicksand. He’d managed to somehow piss off his two best friends, who’d fed him to this hellhole. Now, the first person he’d met he’d managed to piss off. More impressively, he’s managed to piss him off without doing a goddamn thing.

“Here’s the thing, Mr. Ives. I don’t know what I did. There’s a vague familiarity when I noticed them out there, but I can’t remember them. I certainly feel I would be incapable of killing someone. Seems, I’d maintain a certain recall of that.”

“You talk real fancy,” said Burl. It was the first time William could make out actual spite. “Since you’re kind of fancy smart, answer me this: how’s a person do something and not remember it? You got that amnesty?”

“I believe it’s called amnesia,” answered William. “And to answer your question, well as smart as I am, I’m only capable of utilizing thirty percent of my brain function. The other seventy percent is a muddled mess, I’m afraid. You see, Mr. Ives, I’m an experimenter. Those experiments have left craters in my brain, and those craters are filled with lakes of absinthe, rapids of laudanum, and fog clouds of ether.”

He knew it would sound impressive to the undertaker. Hell, it sounded impressive to him. Still, he knew he was no goddamn “experimenter”. He was a fucking junkie and he knew it. Just the mention of the word “ether” caused him to salivate and twitch. Damn, he needed a fix, stat!

Screw Jack and Allen, he thought. Those two beats were probably neck deep in fresh sticky buds down Mexico way.

“I don’t understand much of that,” said Burl. “I ain’t never heard of ‘loud anum’ or ‘absent’. You talk fancy, but use made-up words. Earlier I remember you askin’ for some benzy dream. Regardless, I don’t want to get messed up with them Fine boys. Nor do I want to get messed up with you and your strange addictions. Now, get on, boy.”

Great, William thought, I’ve been downgraded from mister to boy.

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“Far the hell away, I’d reckon.”

“And how am I to get far the hell anywhere? You said there are no horses.”

“Those two things growin’ out your hips ain’t celery stalks boy.”

“Well then may I at least beg you for a pair of shoes or boots? My feet are frying as it is.”

“That damned star does play hell on the soil here. We can’t grow nothin’ in it,” said Burl matter-of-factly. “Shines all night and all day. The ground’ll scorch the skin right off you, if ye ain’t careful. Sadly, I ain’t got no shoes I can spare. Just the boots I’m wearin’ and the nice ones I wear to church.”

“That will make walking all the more difficult,” muttered William.

“You could try runnin’. I reckon the faster you move the less time your feet’ll be on the ground. Now I must bid you good day. I wish I could do more for ye, but I can’t.”

Burl seized William with his two massive paws and tossed him out into the streets of Bethlehem. So much for thinking of him as the Good Samaritan. As he hit the street his cheek sizzled from the heat.

“That smarts,” he said, not really to anyone.

Taking Burl’s advice, he broke into a sprint and raced towards the wastelands that lay just outside of town. He figured there really wasn’t any other choice.

Nyuck, Nyuck, Part One

2010-03-29T09:37:00.001-07:00

As a special treat, to all of you who have made "Naked Metamorphosis" a success to date, I'm offering an unpublished story just for you. This story came about through a conversation between myself and Jordan Krall, author of "Fistful of Feet". I'm not sure if it's any good - you'll have to be the judge. I like it, biased as my opinion is, and haven't really shopped it around. I've been told if you liked "Naked Metamorphosis", you may like this one. I'll be posting this in parts. Enjoy!
(And if you've not purchased your copy of "Naked Metamorphosis", do so here: http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Metamorphosis-Eric-Mays/dp/1933929901/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1269442121&sr=8-1)

NYUCK, NYUCK

(part one)

by Eric Mays

Three wise guys rolled into the town of Bethlehem on two ponies that were weathered and begging for a bullet in the head. They didn’t have maps to guide them through the desert wasteland. The only landmark they had to follow was a glowing star that hung above the city and could be seen for miles on the flat landscape.
Though it sounded biblical, the town of Bethlehem, Texas has strayed far from Christian ways long ago. The town was nothing more than spittle on a map and as time had progressed the town had faded from commonplace into the annals of folklore. It was as rough and tumble a town as you’d find in the western wasteland of Texas. Needless to say, nobody ever happened upon Bethlehem. It was the sort of place you went to if you never wanted to be found again. There were no immaculate conceptions, or innocent infants in mangers, or frankincense and myrrh (whatever the hell that was).
As unusual as it was for three men to search out the fabled town of Bethlehem, the wise guys’ attire was just as out-of-place. The two men working the horses to the bone wore matching outfits: black suits, thin neckties, and dusty bowler hats. One of them was heavyset, nearing two hundred and fifty pounds. The other was as slender as they came. The third wise guy lay slumped on the back of Skinny’s horse, his hands and feet bound with a heavy rope, and his bowler hat long gone.
The ponies tramped past the welcome sign of Bethlehem and into the dusty streets. The only light present was the overwhelming luminescence of the damn star that hovered above. No gas lamps glimmered, no candles flickered in windows. The town was dead.
The ponies came to a stop and the hefty man grabbed the bound form off his comrade’s horse. With one grunt and shove the third of their party landed in the dirty street.
“Another fine mess you’ve gotten us into,” said the skinny man.
The bound man came to, flickering his eyelids, shaking the shock from his system. His throat was dry from days in the desert, but he croaked a dry retort. “Jack? Please don’t do this. Ginsey?”
The heavy man said, “You know I never liked the name Ginsey, Bill. I’m fine with Allen, or Ginsberg, or Allen Ginsberg. But, calling me Ginsey when I’ve firmly asked you not to is insulting, Bill.”
“And you know I do not prefer the name Bill. It’s William,” said the man in the streets. He shot his glance over to the skinny man, Jack. “So what? You’re just going to leave me here in the streets?”
“You’ll like it, William,” said Jack. “It’s your kind of place. Meanwhile, we’ll be on the road.”
“I thought we were all heading to Mexico,” said William, tears welling.
“Kerouac and I are headed to Mexico,” said Ginsberg. “We don’t have much of a choice, thanks to you. We have to hide. You need to just disappear.”
“The fuck I do,” spit William. “We’re a team.”
The two men snatched their respective reins and began steering the horses back towards the desert. William, still with tied wrists and ankles, wriggled along the dusty street like a cocoon birthing a butterfly. He shouted, though it was nothing coherent.
Allen turned his pony around and held a finger to his mouth. “Shhhh! It’s not real polite to wake the neighbors, William. That’s not how you make first impressions.”
“You bastards!”
The other pony turned to face the struggling William. Jack said, “A word of advice, William: get off the shit. You get that stuff out of your system and never put any back in and you might have yourself a pleasant life.”
William watched as Jack and Allen rode away. He watched as their forms shrunk until they were nothing more than the size of ants. And he watched as the faded away. His stomach ached with anxiety. Pangs of stress raced through his system. And despite that his hands were bound, he could feel them violently tremble. Damn he needed a fix; that was the only way to deal with the current predicament.
As soon as the thought hit him, William passed out from exhaustion and the world dissolved around him.

#

He awoke in a cold sweat with the sensation of a million cockroaches running over his skin. He jolted upright and brought his hands to his face. He fingered his jaw line and realized he was in desperate need of a shave. He stopped. Shave, he thought. Holy shit! His hands were untied and he was…in a bed.
William took in the surroundings. He was positioned on a cot in what looked like a barn. Hay was strewn about and a miasma of manure and urine wafted past his nose. Sun streamed in through cracks and crevices. And there was an incessant banging in the background. Where the hell was he? Had it all just been a dream. Maybe, Jack and Ginsey were waiting with coffee and ganja.
He stood from the cot and examined himself. He was still wearing his black suit and narrow tie, but his shoes and socks had been removed. He stepped across the dirt-bottom barn floor and the heat from the ground sizzled his feet. He tiptoed to a shadowy spot and worked to hop-scotch across the barn in the shadows as he pursued the source of the banging.
As he leapfrogged through the shadows, he was oddly surprised that he found no animals in any of the stables. No cows, horses, chickens. That made the smells of feces and piddle all the more perplexing. William didn’t waste too much time on the oddity, primarily because he was hypnotized by the rhythmic banging. With each beat a vision became clearer. First it was a hammer. Then he saw the hammer smashing the contents of a prescription bottle. Then he saw a fist slapping the table and sliding the powder into an envelope. The thought made him salivate and gave him an erection.
Past the stables, William found a small work area. There was indeed a man working at a table. On the table was what looked like a large, wooden box. The burly man, twice the size of Allen Ginsberg, was hammering away. Cautiously William approached.
“Excuse me,” he said softly.
“Holy son of a honky,” the man screamed, spinning on William, his hammer raised above his head.
The two exchanged glances – William’s was pure terror, Mr. Burly’s was confusion.
“Well, hell friend,” the man said, with an overwhelming twang. “You cain’t sneak up on folks like that. I ain’t much for violence, but I coulda accidentally smashed your melon in with this here hammer. Don’t worry, I’d felt bad about it.”
William was still working to reclaim his breathing function. That Joan Vollmer bitch had given him a scare with that whole William Tell thing back in the day. He’d not breathed right for a year after that.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
The burly man tossed the hammer down to the table and wrapped William in a bear hug embrace. “Don’t you worry about it, friend. Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for. I just don’t want to hurt you. Not too sure what brought you into Bethlehem. It’s usually not anything good. But, like everyone who stumbles into our town, you’re a friend.”
William’s head was swimming. In the most fantastical of trips, nothing he’d experienced had been quite like this.
“What’s your name, friend?”
“William,” he said, feeling the words exiting his maw outside his control.
“Well, William, most people ‘round here call me Mr. Ives. I think that’s so impersonal. You can call me Burl, got it?”
William, once again outside of his control, felt his head nod.
“Now I’ll fix you up some eggs and some bacon, if you like. You look like you could use a good meal. Right now, though, I gotta finish this job. I’m on a deadline.”
William inched towards the table and the box in order to catch a quick glimpse at what the man was working on. He instantly regretted it. In the box was a macabre vision that force bile to creep up William’s throat.
The box was a coffin that housed the corpse of a man, a fairly young and muscular lad. What Burl was hammering was much darker than the image of a corpse. The big man was hammering the horns of a mighty steer into the head of the dead man.
Now, William was sure he was most certainly, as the kids said, tripping balls.
Seeing that the stranger was about to vomit all over his masterpiece, Burl aided William to the ground.
“Breathe deep, friend. Ain’t nothin’ to be worried about! It was his last request.”
“Who requests something like that?”
“Well, we folks around here still got imagination. Seems the rest of the world has moved on.”
Seeing William’s confusion, Burl elaborated:
“See, when one of ours passes, we like to decorate the corpse. Makes it that much more festive. There was this ol’ boy who passed of cholera a while back. That fella was obsessed with these things called jackalopes. You know what a jackalope is, right? Rabbit with antlers. Well, he wanted antlers attached to his forehead when he passed. Bein’ the undertaker and all, who was I to say no?”
“And this fellow?” asked William, turning green.
“Well, this fella used to get razzed all the damn time. He used to travel into New Mexico and those boys there would joke on him for bein’ from Texas. They’d always say ‘they’s only two things from Texas – steers and queers, and we don’t see no goddamn horns.’ So he passes of typhoid and asks me to find some steer horns. Wants his body shipped into Santa Fe so he gets the last laugh.”
William nodded. As perverse as it was, it did make sense through a certain eye. “Where’s the rest of the steer?”
“Smothered and chunked, I s’pose. We try to use up ever last scrap ‘round here.”
“I see,” said William. A sense of ease settled like a fog around him. If he wasn’t tripping, then Jack and Alan had indeed left him to rot in this godforsaken town. He knew in that instant that he needed to make a run for it. “Mr. Ives – Burl – I’m grateful for all you’ve done. I appreciate the offer for bacon and eggs. It’s beyond generous. However, what I truly need is a horse. And some Benzydrine.”
“Ain’t never heard of bennzy-dream. And, sadly, I ain’t got no horse. One came through here yesterday. The thing just sort of wandered around town.”
“Well, where is it now?”
“Well, it’s in pieces back in the work shed. Ol’ man Gustefson always wanted be hung like a horse…”
Burl’s words repulsed William, but he was still intrigued and wanted to hear more. Unfortunately for his ears, the undertaker’s words were drowned out by the sound of hell riding in. Gunshots, yelling, and the thunderous sounds of giant horses drowned out all that was around.
“William,” said Burl, swapping the niceties for caution, “you’d better hide yourself. Sounds like Shemp’s boys are back.”

Zombies Aplenty

2010-03-17T06:19:00.000-07:00

I saw this article…and have to say, WOW! It’s the perfect source material for a blogsite called “ZomBicurious”, right? The top 10 best zombie films of all time. As ridiculous as it is for me to refer to myself as a zombie aficionado, that’s just one of the things I am. I can’t get enough of zombies – good, bad, and wretchedly horrible. It’s the perfect stuff for a good laugh. And, forget about Team Jacob or Team Edward. In the Zombie universe there’s Team Fast and Team Slow and I’m somewhere in the middle.

If you want to look at Stylus Magazine’s Top Ten List, do so here: http://www.stylusmagazine.com/articles/movie_review/stylus-magazines-top-10-zombie-films-of-all-time.htm

While I agree with many of the choices they made, I have to say the order is a little off, in my opinion. Here’s my top ten list for not only zombie movies, but also zombie books. You gotta have both!

Top Ten Zombie Movies of All Time:

1. The Night of the Living Dead: It’s really kind of difficult to argue with the film that started the whole zombie craze. Yes, there have been many other zombie films that preceded this one, but not on the same level. George Romero’s first film is not his best, but it kick-started a sub-sect of the horror genre that would be repeated over, and over, and over again!

2. Dawn of the Dead: This is Romero’s finest film. And it works on every single level. From the campy Tom Savini make-up to the over-stylized gore (anyone remember that blood pressure machine?), to the uber-depressing ending. Plus, there’s a hefty social commentary running throughout. (A side note: Zach Snyder’s remake of “Dawn of the Dead”, which is really more of a reimagining, is excellent, and sadly would have come on the list had the list run past ten)

3. Shaun of the Dead: If Romero is the one that ignited the zombie genre, then Edgar Wright, Nick Frost, and Simon Pegg ignited the zom-com. Yes, Dan O’Bannon did it years before with the Return of the Living Dead films, which I think are pure hilarity, but they were nothing more than a blip on the map. Yes, I’m a Dan O’Bannon fanboy, so it’s very hard for me to substitute Team-Shaun here, but they did it. They did the same thing Romero did – create a genre that would be copied for years to come.

4. Dead Alive: Peter Jackson’s movie was once dubbed the “goriest film of all time”. It’s gory, no doubt about it. It’s also good to see a classic Peter Jackson film. I love Peter, but I’m sad that he’s not doing fun stuff like this any longer. Still there’s a lot to like in a movie that features campy comedy, a zombie virus spread from a vicious rat, and zombie sex that results in zombie baby. I challenge you not to laugh during the taking the zombie baby to the park scene.

5. Fido: “Fido” was barely seen by anyone, but it created an alternate 1950’s that had suffered the perils of the “zombie war”, rather than the Cold War tensions and threats from the Korean war. It’s a clever piece, and a near flawless film, and yet it’s nothing more than a boy-and-his-dog story. Billy Connelly has no lines as the title zombie, and the cast is filled with recognizable character actors but no real stars. It’s an exceptional film. If you’re one of the many that has not seen it, by all means rent it!

6. 28 Days Later: I realize that this is testing everything that I should be against. For starters, these are not even zombies. They’re infected with rage, and they are sort of brainless and only motivated by human flesh, but are they really zombies? No. And, they’re not the shuffling stiffs that have been represented in the previous 5 films. This, though, is where the genre began to change a bit. We began seeing fast zombies rather than the norm. There is a certain sense of dread that accompanies the fast, Russian-gymnast-esque zombies. Still, I will toss it a bone and say it’s a pretty cool flick.

7. Evil Dead 2: I should have this higher on the list, as I’m a Bruce Campbell fanboy. I’m also a friend, so I really should have this higher. Evil Dead 2 has not only zombies and, well, evil dead. It’s got a zombie deer head mounted on the wall. It’s also got one of the baddest ass zombie killers around – Ash, housewares. I’m still waiting to see if Ash can kick the ass of any other classic movie monsters.

8. Zombieland: This film kicked the zom-com into overdrive! Woody Harrelson is classic Woody. And the expectations should be kept relatively low. Why is it on the list, though? Well, the center of the humor of this film is in the repeating of the rules of a zombie movie. Everyone that’s seen a zombie flick knows the rules by heart already. But, this film makes a joke out of them and it works. There are countless rules. Having Bill Murray is great as well. There’s just so much to love about this film. It’s pretends to be nothing than what it is.

9. Zombi: This was made as a follow-up to Dawn Of the Dead. And it’s on the list for two reasons: 1.) Zombie versus Shark! And 2.) Conquistador zombies rising from the Earth!

10. Night of the Creeps: Fred Dekker was the man of the 80’s. Night of the Creeps and the great Tom Atkins made this horror-comedy work. Slugs get into your skin and turn you into flesh eating zombies. It’s great fun and, according to Troma alum, James Gunn, it inspired “Slither”. Finally this is released on Blu Ray, and the transfer is pretty gorgeous in all its 80’s gore.

5 Zombie Books You Must Read, if you like zombies, that is:

1. World War Z: Max Brooks mimicks Studs Terkel to great success here. It’s a book of accounts from the great Zombie War, and it’s excellent. Vivid detail from the recounts of the beginning in China to the United States Homefront. If you can listen to the audio book, you’ll be exceptionally impressed – Carl Reiner, Rob Reiner, Mark Hamill, Alan Aldo, Jurgen Prochnow, Henry Rollins, and others perform.

2. Breathers: Just finished this, and this is a thought-provoking look at the life of a zombie. It suffers from the same syndrome Shaun of the Dead does, in that it takes you on a hilarious journey, then reaches a weird plateau and is not sure where to go. Still, the end product is worth it.

3. Cell: Stephen King’s visceral look at the world turned to zombies courtesy of a signal pulsed through cellular phones is fast paced (very short for King) and visceral. Many argue that it’s not a King novel. I argue the opposite. In fact, after being disappointed by King, this was a nice return to some of his earlier horror fiction. I loved it.

4. Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince: The dementors marked a dark turn for the fantasy series. However, this book introduced us to the Inferi, which are the undead. I was tripping when I got to them. Zombies in a Harry Potter book? Awesome. This, too, marked a dark turn in the series, and I was elated to see them appear again in the final book of the series. Who knew Harry Potter and zombies went together?

5. The Rising: The book that really put Brian Keene on the map. It’s not well written. There are typos aplenty. Yet, the action is raw and in your face. The situations are horrifying. The dialogue is believable. And the zombies offer a new twist. It’s pretty awesome. If you like it you can always check out two others in that universe: City of the Dead and Dead Sea.

Wikireality

2010-02-17T05:30:00.000-08:00

More and more I'm convinced that we're plunging into the abyss. And, dammit, if that's the case, I'd rather not continue this chaotic Nestea Plunge. Rather, I'd just like to see the Etch-A-Sketch version - erase the thing and start over.
I'm not going to go off on a rant about all the things that irritate me these days: the fact that singers have resorted to horrid grammar to create hip rhymes ("it only matters who I is!" - really?), or the fact that crapfest movies win the box office over well thought out quasi-masterpieces, or that people like James Patterson and Dan Brown sit atop the bestsellers lists for rehashed books that are the literary merit of baby poop. I'll save those and many other topics for a later date.
What I'm fascinated with, though, is the Internet. More specifically, this wikireality.
Whether it's "The Matrix" or Tolkein's MiddleEarth, sci-fi and fantasy afficienados have been captivated by the idea of alternate realities. It's not surprising that the wet dreams of guys like Asimov and Dick would come to pass. Most of the conceptions of sci-fi have come to pass (granted, not quite in the same vein, but in concept. "Wall-E" may have hit the proverbial nail on the head, though, when they displayed what the cost for people would be, fat baby-like beings that are incapable of functioning for themselves...I shudder at the thought).
"The Sims" was the first zone. Second Life augmented that even further. But, now, the Internet seems to be an alternate reality of its own. And why the hell did this happen?
We've become a society that is incapable of original thought. I am talking about the majority, not the few of us who still do cultivate a little spark of creativity and have the capacity to imagine. This summer, for example, CNN received a tweet that Jeff Goldblum had died while climbing in New Zealand. The tweet came with a weblink. That was all the reporters at CNN needed to consider this valid information and a valid tip. So, they reported it as fact. This, of course, was a hoax, a fabricated lie, albeit doen very well. But what happened to the days when we looked at something and said, "Really? That doesn't seem right. Maybe I should investigate it a little." Nope. Nada. Say goodbye to those days. SMO (Social Media Outlets) have become the reality. If it didn't come across my facebook status page or my Twitter, then it damn sure didn't happen. (I'm judging CNN very harshly for not having an intern just pick up the phone and call Goldblum or a family member for a quote. I'm sure a call from CNN would garner a response from a B-list celebrity).
I can only assume that this is why so many people post so much (one as many as 42 times in an hour) online - if they don't post their day's activities, then they really have no value. I was eating lunch with someone who began talking about their insatiable desire to live on a farm. "I've never heard this from you before," I replied. They informed me that this was a new whim, created from their love of Farmville, a facebook game. Yeah, and courtesy of Mafia, I'm sure you'll want to live like Tony Soprano next.
I've eaten lunch with people, spoken to them on the phone, seen them in passing, and you'd think that if I were getting engaged they would know about this. An engagement isn't something that pops up out of the blue, randomly. It's something that's savored, salivated over, and enjoyed. You talk it up in passing. You mention it to your friends. You milk it for every ounce it's worth (which, with inflation factored in, is quite a lot more than it was in 1950). Yet, I change my status to "engaged" on facebook and the world seems come alive.
Within 30 minutes I'd received 4 text messages and 2 phone calls (don't even get me started on texting). By the hour mark, I'd received 3 facebook messages and 2 emails. It's fascinating. Of course, I'd respond with, "wouldn't I have told you?" And, people aren't sure what to respond to that with. Interesting.
Nobody bothered to think. Eric's engaged? That's odd. Very, very odd. Nobody bothered to investigate (and I'm talking elementary...as in elementary education, not "elementary by dear Watson"). He's engaged to Christy Leigh? She's in California? How did that happen? How did they meet? When was he spending any amoutn of time in California? Nobody bothered to ration it out. That's impossible! I call shenanigans!
Christy is a fan. I like Christy. She gave me her dowry (which is a funny story involving an inheritance, postal exchange, and Jose Canseco...but it's a story for a different time). And we love each other, as much as two people can over the Internet. She's a good sport. And, dammit, I have tremendous respect for her. But we've never once physically met.
If I were engaged, wouldn't I have met, mentioned, or made-merry with her?
Nope. People see "engaged" as the relationship status and automatically assume that that's what happened.
Am I trying to "Punk" anyone? Not in the least. I would say that this is a sociological experiment.
In interesting news, I received more attention to this status than I have to any mention of my book. Christy has received more attention on this status than she did on her art. Fascinating.
It's food for thought, kids. I know I may have shattered the glass dome that we're all trapped in a bit. Sure, I frayed the thin veil. But, c'mon. We're steps away from losing the ability to think and ration for ourselves. Think about that today...oh wait, thoughlessness is contagion. Think about that today, if you still think.
Signing off...

Naked Metamorphosis for Breast Cancer

2010-02-12T04:51:00.000-08:00

My friend Jane, in Baltimore, recently found out that she has breast cancer. I say recently, but the truth is, she's known for a bit. As she says, "Happy Holidays". I've been taking a little time to accept this reality for a variety of reasons: 1.) I'm not in Baltimore and feel helpless that I cannot offer support, and 2.) because, I've always seen Jane as the epitome of strength and when I imagine this all I see is frailty. Wow! Put a little distance on it and you realize...THIS is the epitome of strength. Her and her husband, David, have it in spades, man. Te read about her journey thus far: http://janesposse.blogspost.com

I also decided that there is a way I can help. Maybe not her specifically, but in a way. That's why, I've decided that I'm going to make a donation to Susan G. Komen the first week of March. For every copy of "Naked Metamorphosis" that is sold, I'm donating 50%. I'll post a picture of the check/Paypal screen when I do, so that you know I'm not full of it. After all, there are crazy people out there, jumping up and down claiming to be charitable, but they're not. I hate them. We hate them.

I've also upped the ante a little. If...and only if...I can make this puppy sell and create a generous donation to Susan G. in the remaining days of February, well, I'm going to shave my locks. My hair's not long by any stretch, but those that know me know I love my hair. Love. It. So, to lose it would be a dear price...well, for me.

So, to recap:

Get a good read...one that you'll enjoy (and it's got my personal email in it so you can talk to me electronically or send me Viagra spam);
Do it for a good cause (maybe not the BEST cause, but a cause nonetheless).
Punish me...wait? What?

Thank you for all your support....http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Metamorphosis-Eric-Mays/dp/1933929901/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1265979636&sr=8-1-spell

Valentine's Day Gifts

2010-02-09T04:49:00.000-08:00

Yes, it's the time of year when everyone has love in their very googly eyes. Yes, it's the time of year when diamond commercials are hocking their wares with the spin that if you don't treat your beloved to a diamond, then you're not really "in love". Ugh, I say, and gag me with Alpo.

Whether it's your holiday or not - I'm not getting into the repugnancy of this cherished and beloved holiday; it's neither the time nor the place - it's coming like a freight train from hell, and there's not a whole lot you can do about it. So, I, the authorguy who loathes V-Day (ironically, initialled VD), is offering a holiday treat for you and your loved one(s).

Unfortunately it's only for the Richmonders. Sorry to all my fans from around the globe. Of course, I guess you could play...but the prizes are in Richmond.

First and foremost, I think you should give the gift of books. I always have subscribed to this theory and always will. Books are one of the best gifts to give and receive. Incidentally, I have a little book out that would make a wonderful gift for yourself or someone you love. It's called "Naked Metamorphosis", and despite the word "naked" in the title, it's not kinky. It is highbrow humor that has been called witty and whimsical, though.

Speaking of this little gem, it's 9.95 at Amazon and can be added to your cart here: http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Metamorphosis-Eric-Mays/dp/1933929901/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1265720130&sr=8-1. Now how can this get any better? Well, if you'd like a little extra oomph to your Valentine's Day offerings, here's what I'll do. The first person to order and email me their confirmation number - I don't want your credit card info, just a sign that you ordered it - to ericm@witty.com, will receive a V-Day package:

A 1 night stay for 2 at the brand new Short Pump Hilton
A $25 gift certificate at the Aura Day Spa (located in the Short Pump Hilton)
And another goodie that I'll mention later...but it's a doozy.

Don't fret. If you're the second in line to email me your confirmation ID, I'll give you a $25 gift certificate to the Aura Day Spa.

So what are you waiting for? I'm giving you free Valentine's goodies all in exchange for a $10 book. Go...order...win!

HAPPY DAYS

2010-02-04T05:18:00.000-08:00

No, not the show famous for the creation of Fonz (and equally famous for coining the term "jumping the shark"). No, I mean literal happy days. Yes, there's white stuff on the ground. Richmond, the once "proud" capital of the Confederacy, is more reminiscent of the frozen world of Hoth (dork-alert)! And, yes, I've had a run lately...including doggie death, re-wiring a car, and a move. But still I decree HAPPY DAYS!

Carlton Mellick 3, is certainly an acquired literary taste. I like him, but there are plenty of people who would slap me if I recommended his works to anyone. The second issue of the Magazine of Bizarro Fiction has an indepth look at Mr. Mellick's genius. He's truly gifted. And, he's been able to give life to his weird worlds...and garner a very loyal fan following. I met CM3 at BizarroCon this year and was expecting...well, I'm not sure what I was expecting. I could have been expecting a pair of sideburns with a personality. What I got was a very genuine, very humble, very nice individual with a lust for the written word. CM3 is one of those authors that is very much a character, and he's the posterchild for Eraserhead Press and the bizarro movement.

So, getting back to Happy Days...Mr. Mellick recently posted an article about the NBAS through Eraserhead. It's a brilliant article that really captures the feel for the state of publishing, especially in this new age, and the importance of new voices. He also does a profile for each of the authors involved. Here's the portion about 4 new authors - one of which is yours truly.

Kevin Shamel is the first of these authors that I’ve met. I met him at a reading in Olympia, WA, about 8 months before I met the others at BizarroCon. Since then he’s become a great friend and he’s always excited to talk about the writing and publishing world, something I can go on about for days nonstop. I also like him for his topnotch cocktail-making skills and his belief that you can’t be too old to have a mohawk (his young son has a matching mohawk). His strengths over the other NBAS authors is that he has the most energy, the most time on his hands, and is close enough to Portland to get involved in the Portland bizarro scene and participate in local bizarro events. When he does readings, he does a demented puppet show with audience participation. It’s a sight to see. His book is called Rotten Little animals, and it’s kind of like a “Meet the Feebles” type of story about these talking animals who decide to make a snuff film. The inclusion of zombie cats is a plus. Many people have said this one is the weirdest book of the four.

Patrick Wensink is selling the most copies of his book so far. Perhaps because of the great title: “Sex Dungeon for Sale,” perhaps because he has the most professional-looking cover art, perhaps because it was praised by Joey Goebel, or perhaps because he’s just an awesome writer. Either way, he’s doing something right and has a big lead on the other NBAS. The book might also be doing well because it is a collection of comical short stories, and let’s face it: comedy sells. It is pretty rare in literature, since most writers take themselves too seriously, but readers just love humorous books. Like Christopher Moore, Douglas Adams, Terry Pratchett, and Kurt Vonnegut, people can’t get enough of it. That’s probably why Patrick Wensink is the leading NBAS author and Mykle Hansen is the leading bizarro author (at the moment). Patrick is also a hilarious guy to be around. He’s a member of an improve comedy troupe and a big fan of my favorite sketch comedy show: The Upright Citizens Brigade. Any fan of UCB is a friend of mine. Plus, he was a Portlander for a while and might come back to visit us regularly. Patrick’s strengths over the other bizarros is probably his sense of initiative, sense of humor, and most importantly his results. When it comes down to it, results matter most.

Eric Mays was the one we were least optimistic about… at first. His book is about Kafka and Shakespeare, and was originally titled “Kafka’s Shakespearean Tragedy,” which made many people I know groan out loud. Before Kevin read the submission, based on the title and concept only, he told me “There’s no way I’m ever going to accept something like this.” It seemed like the kind of book that gets rejected by bizarro publishers over and over again. However, after reading it Kevin said “I MUST accept this.” And everyone in the bizarro scene who has read it, especially those with literary sensibilities, say that it is one of the most impressive bizarro books to come out in a long time. So, according to the scene, this guy is a brilliant writer and gives bizarro a good name. I’ve even heard people say if we can get more writers like Eric in bizarro then bizarro might actually become a respectable genre. While I could care less whether or not bizarro becomes respectable, it’s still nice to hear so many people back this guy, because Eric is one of the nicest guys out there. A passionate, lively, friendly, fun guy to hang out with, Eric is the kind of writer who you’d love to have a beer with. Or five. His strengths over the other NBAS authors is that he’s probably the best reader due to his background in theater (he can really bring his characters to life), he can appeal to high brow audiences as well as lowbrow audiences (because of his use of humor), and he’s also considering moving to Portland to join our local scene here, which is always a huge plus since Eraserhead Press puts a lot of attention into local bizarro writers. His book, now titled Naked Metamorphosis, has been described as “witty and whimsical.” While it’s hard to sum up the plot into a pretty one-liner, it will appeal to fans of Kafka, Shakespeare, and British comedy.

David Barbee is the underdog of the group. A lot of people are routing for him, but he’s had the least amount of success so far. He’s been a part of the bizarro community longer than any of the others, for a few years I believe. He was the only previously published author, because he had two self-published books out. He immediately impressed Kevin and I by taking his books out of print in order to submit to the new bizarro author series. That is the rule: you can submit to the New Bizarro Author Series if you have self-published some of your books, but you must first take them out of print. The thing is we never expected any self-published author to ever do this. If you had self-published a book would you be willing to forever take it out of print just at the chance to get published by Eraserhead Press? Not many people would be willing to do that. To this day, David Barbee is the only submitter who has ever had the guts to do this. Most self-published writers who have wanted to submit to the NBAS have whined and complained and tried to convince us to change our rules just for them. But David did it without a second thought. David’s strength over the other bizarro writers is his commitment to bizarro. He’s not only said he’s committed, he’s shown us this. Commitment combined with results are the two biggest things Rose is looking for. All David needs are the results. His book, Carnageland, is like reading a fun hyper-violent cartoon. It is a lot like a bizarro Invader Zim, with sex and violence.

You can read the full article here: http://carltonmellick.com/

This is new art at its purest. We (all 4) are artists. Fortunately we're not starving artists...yet. But, as always, we love the support. I will say, having read all of these (even my own), each one is good and would look nice on the shelf. Also, each one has a very different feel to it. If you need something to tide you over, or a bathroom reader, or a gym book, go to Amazon and invest $10. It's a sound and very worthy investment.

When will the Aliens Hurry Up and Get Here!

2010-01-12T06:11:00.000-08:00

I think that a lot of the problems of this world would be solved if the aliens would hurry up and get here already. Sure, this solution is problematic...in that everything would more or less be destroyed. But, we could perish with the knowledge that a.) there really were ETs out there and b.) the world got a clean slate. Pros and cons, really.

I don't play video games, but I love the visuals and the carnage. David Barbee has written a book that is like reading a video game. I posted a review here earlier, but basically it's a load of action and violence and is certainly not for everyone. If you like more esoteric sci-fi, just bypass this suggestion. However, if you like your action chaotic, your aliens sinister, and you've always wanted to see fairy tale creatures get torched...well, you get a glimpse of what "Carnageland" is all about. (Seriously, if this would have been a choose your own adventure book, it would have had everything!)

David Barbee's also one of those writers that likes to give a little something to those that still actually READ books. You can visit his website here: http://davidwbarbee.wordpress.com/2010/01/11/buy-carnageland-and-get-free-stuff/

He's going to offer some free swag for those that pick up a copy of "Carnageland". For starters you're going to get a CD soundtrack for the book (some of the best sci-fi riffs and space-age music). But wait...there's more! You'll also score a comic book (hand drawn by David Barbee himself).

But wait...there's more!

For a limited time only, if you pick up the book (and get the freebies) you'll also have a chance to win a hand sculpted alien. This thing was designed and made by the author, himself. And, it really wants a good home.

The Best Films of the Year!

2009-12-24T16:27:00.000-08:00

Most of you know that I'm a cinephile! I love my movies as much as I love my books. I savor each one and go out to coffee for further conversation about what I just read/saw. So, each year I like to let you guys know what's important to me. How the movies out now, or the ones that already are making their way onto DVD, rank up. Here are my top ten (from lowest to highest) for the year:

10. "Away We Go!" - This Sam Mendes film was away from his normal fare. And it featured two talented comedians - John Krasinski and Maya Rudolph - and a phenomenal supporting cast. I really loved this film. The comedy is dry (which I prefer), smart (a plus), and very, very witty. It's on DVD now, and I highly suggest a rental. It's not quite a romantic comedy, but a dramedy nonetheless.

9. "Zombieland" - It's rare that I put comedies on the top ten list, but here's the second one. Zombieland works 'cause it didn't pretend what it was. It was a zom-com, and a worthy, good one at that. Maybe not the best composed filmed...but good enough that I watched it four times at the theatre. The things that almost put this in arthouse world are the opening credits which are phenomenal (and opening credits are a dying art) and the sheer appearance of Bill Murray. It'll be out in January on DVD. Own it.

8. "Up" - I'm a fan of Pixar. They've yet to crank out a crapper. And, "Up", while not my favorite Pixar film (that honor goes to "Monsters Inc"), emphasizes an emotional accord that I've not seen from a Pixar movie. If for no other reason than the opening sequence (no words, just montages), this movie deserves all the praise it gets.

7. "Inglorious Basterds" - one of my least favorite Quentin films but best done Quentin films. Are you lost? I'm not sure I can re-watch IB several times over (I've seen it twice) like I can "Pulp Fiction", but damn if Tarantino's skills aren't honed on this one. The writing is excellent, the acting is grand (Christoph Waltz), and the fun fairytale story works.

6. "(500) Days of Summer" - Joseph Gordan Levitt has become quite the phenomenal actor...and what a good year what with "GI Joe", "Killshot", and this independent flick. (500) is an excellent film. It's not a romantic comedy, as it's made out to be, but an interesting social commentary flick. It's absolutely wonderful. Some of the visuals, combined with a dynamite script work strong for this film. If it won best picture, I'd not be upset at all.

5. "The Princess and the Frog" - Ah, Disney's return to 2-d animation! I was elated. Granted, there's still the computer elements that I despise (I'm a handdrawn sort of guy). Still, the animation is beautiful, the songs are vintage Disney, and the story...ah, i love the new twists that the story offers on the Princess legend (that you have to work for your princess-dom). If you've not seen it...don't wait. See it now.

4.) "Moon" - the best picture of the summer and the best picture that Sam Rockwell's been in. Sam Rockwell is one of my faves. This flick is a one-man show, and it plays like a vintage Twilight Zone episode. Directed by David Bowie's son (Duncan Jones in his directorial debut), this is one of the best pictures of the year...hands down. Seriously.

3.) "The Hurt Locker" - Seriously, the film to beat at this year's Oscars. It's one of the tensest movies I've sat through (I peeled off two fingernails during it). Jeremy Renner is amazing. His performance has stuck with me through the year. Also, the bomb scenes have kept reverberating through my head. Ah, this may be one of the perfect films of the year.

2.) "The Road" - Another perfect film. It's as bleak as the book. It's as depressing, if not moreso, as the book. It's not the "feel-good" film of the year. It is, however, beautifully acted, beautifully shot, and that kid...Kodi whathisname is remarkable! Viggo is too. I came out of the flick exclaiming "glorious", "glorious". I want this to win best picture...but it won't because...

1.) "District 9" should! It's the best film hands down! I love it. The writing, the style, the cinematography, the acting. Fuck! It's the best pic of the year.

Gifts for the reader in your life.

2009-12-07T09:24:00.000-08:00

I hear the bells and I see the attitudes, so it must mean the holiday beast is upon us, snarling and oozing cinnamon and angst pheromones. I’m not particularly fond of the holidays – no surprise, I’m sure. Basically, I think the holiday (whether you’re celebrating Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, or Christmas, or Solstice, or Weasel Stomping Season) has been bastardized beyond repair. The emphasis on gift-giving has trumped anything else out there. Parents are considered not worthy if they don’t throw out a $300 gaming system…
…okay, I’m breathing deep. In. Out. In. Out. Ah! Better.
This is not a rant about the holidays, I assure you. I love to give books. In fact, what better gift is there than a book? By giving a book, you’re giving an overall experience on every level. The immersive qualities, the mental odyssey that you’ve just handed over…what better gift is there than that? C’mon!
I’m a book hound. I tend to read just about everything and anything and rarely will stop a book mid-read. These are my particular favorite books this year. They’re in no order, but they’re accompanied by a link to amazon. Enjoy.

“Peter and Max: A Fables Novel” by Bill Willingham. I’m not familiar with the comic books that this is based on. I’m impressed that a comic book publisher, like Vertigo, is printing a full 400-page novel, though. That’s a step up. This book reminded me of that the Jasper Fforde novels wanted to be. I was excited to pick up Fforde’s books, but just could never get into them at all. The premise of this book is that the fairytale creatures and characters have to seek shelter in our world as their enchanted lands are destroyed and conquered. All the characters are here, but interestingly enough the main character is Peter Piper (of pickled peppers fame) and his brother Max. I had no trouble following the action (not having read the comics) but loved every sentence. Worth a check out. http://www.amazon.com/Peter-Max-Fables-Bill-Willingham/dp/1401215734/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpi_1

“Unseen Academicals” by Terry Pratchett. If you’ve never cracked open a Discworld novel you should. Personally I can’t get enough of them and I’m torn up that Pratchett has been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. The Terry Pratchett books are an acquired taste, granted. I never discovered them until adulthood, but I’d imagine the young reader in your family would find them amusing. Plus, I always seem a little smarter after completing a Pratchett book. “Unseen Academicals” raises its attention to sports and sports fanfare. It’s a wizards novel (those fans of the series will understand what I mean…there are wizard novels, witch novels, Watch novels, etc). Personally, I’d say that any child who’s bemoaning the end of the Harry Potter series, give’em a copy of Pratchett’s books and let them experience something a little better written. http://www.amazon.com/Unseen-Academicals-Discworld-Terry-Pratchett/dp/0061161705/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1260203826&sr=1-3

“Fistful of Feet” by Jordan Krall. Once again, Krall is not for everyone, but those his work is for…well, this is a treat. I’m a huge fan of westerns, and love the everything in the 60’s and 70’s (Sergio Leone, “Django”, all of them). This reads like a love story to the spaghetti western. Actually, it reads like an homage to Italian cinema. You’ve got the touches of Leone, of course, but there’s evidence of Fulci and Argento there, too. Fascinating. All in all, Fistful of Feet is a great read. It’s the way a western should be – brutal, action-packed, and bloody. All the regulars are here: the brothel girls and their Johns, escaped POWs out of Andersonville looking for Confederate gold, a mysterious “bad” good guy, a frilly card cheat, the corrupt mayor, and ass juice. A good read. http://www.amazon.com/Fistful-Feet-Jordan-Krall/dp/1933929898/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1260204346&sr=1-1

The New Bizarro Author Series by David Barbee, Kevin Shamel, Eric Mays and Patrick Wensink. So there are 4 books that came out in a collection: “Rotten Little Animals”, “Carnageland”, “Naked Metamorphosis”, and “Sex Dungeon for Sale”. I’m obviously biased since my name is in the mix, but it’s no mistake. This is a great gift for the reader in your house. They look great as a collection, they’re inexpensive, and (the best part) they’re good. Anyone who has stuck their nose out at bizarre should acquaint themselves with this set. This displays how diverse the budding genre is and can be. Rotten Little Animals is at times frightening and hilarious. Carnageland reads like a video game, which is the first time I’ve ever really experienced that before. Sex Dungeon is an anthology with some interesting ideas. And Naked Metamorphosis…well…you know. http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Metamorphosis-Eric-Mays/dp/1933929901/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1260204778&sr=1-1

“The Repossession Mambo” by Eric Garcia. I’m a huge fan of Eric Garcia. I loved his “Rex” series. I loved “Matchstick Men”. I even adored “Cassandra French’s finishing School…” But over the last five years I’ve been asking myself where the hell did he go? He seemingly dropped off the face of the planet and stopped putting out books. Well, here’s his newest one. On the surface it seems like a rip-off of “Repo! The Genetic Opera”. Yeah, I buy that. I love that movie and love this book. Having experienced both, I have to say they’re not identical. If I’ve not convinced you yet, then take a look at the book’s opening sentence: “The first time I ever held a pancreas in my hands, I got an erection.” http://www.amazon.com/Repossession-Mambo-Eric-Garcia/dp/0061802832/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1260204420&sr=1-1#noop

“Jailbait Zombie” by Mario Acevedo. Mario Acevedo wrote a book a few years back called “The Nymphos of Rocky Flats”. I loved the title but the concept (vampire P.I.) was weak. I never touched it. Then a sequel came out “X-Rated Bloodsuckers”, then another “The Undead Kama Sutra”. Okay, now I’m intrigued by each and every title, and I finally caved. I bought them all and plowed into them. The Felix Gomez story is cliché, no doubt about it. However, the characters are vivid, the noir quality of the stories is spot-on, and Acevedo’s writing is crisp. As much as I love zombies, there was no way I couldn’t pick up “Jailbait Zombie” and was not disappointed. There’s an interesting part about a zombie hurting a vampire because of the silver fillings he had in life. I thought that was interesting. http://www.amazon.com/Jailbait-Zombie-Adventures-Felix-Gomez/dp/0061567175/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1260205097&sr=1-4

“Shatnerquake” by Jeff Burk. The concept alone is worth the price of admission. But, make no mistake…this is not parody at it’s lightest. This is, on many levels, what “Being John Malkovich” would have been if John had been replaced with Shatner. This is perfect for those fans of Bruce Campbell and the Trekkie in your life. My only complaint: it’s too short. http://www.amazon.com/Shatnerquake-Jeff-Burk/dp/1933929820/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1260205301&sr=1-1

“Cloris: my Autobiography” by Cloris Leachman. What’s not to love about Cloris Leachman? She’s a great actress who leaves me in stitches every time. I also think she’s beautiful. But that strange fetish aside, I loved her autobiography. Not being a big fan of television in general, I was more excited about reading her accounts on set with Mel Brooks or on Broadway. The Mary Tyler Moore bits, though, are good. It’s a little dry in areas, but still worth the read. http://www.amazon.com/Cloris-My-Autobiography-Leachman/dp/0758229631/ref=tag_dpp_lp_edpp_img_in

“Bonk” by Mary Roach. I feel like I’m beginning to sound like a broken record. I love Mary Roach. Ever since I discovered “Stiff” I’ve been hooked. “Spook” was an excellent read, too, and was one of my favorites when it came out. Now, here comes “Bonk”. Bonk is a glance at our favorite subject – SEX. Sex sells and Mary has a blast with the topics: what is an orgasm?; artificially inseminating sows, the complexities of a female orgasm, and scientifically scrutinized coitus. The title and the subject matter should have you convinced already. http://www.amazon.com/Bonk-Curious-Coupling-Science-Sex/dp/0393334791/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1260205882&sr=1-3

“Raising Demons for Fun and Profit” by Mark McLaughlin. Anyone who has ever read Mark McLaughlin knows that the man is pretty much going to have you laugh your ass off. He’s a great weightloss drug that way. “Raising Demons” is my personal favorite McLaughlin yet. Do not hesitate, pick this up…now. http://www.horror-mall.com/RAISING-DEMONS-FOR-FUN-AND-PROFIT-by-Mark-McLaughlin-trade-softcover-p-19891.html

2009-11-23T04:26:00.000-08:00

I have a love hate relationship with Steve King. I remember first cracking his stuff when I was twelve (because I wanted "grown-up" books, rather than kiddie fare) and being thoroughly impressed and scared. I've revisited some of those in adulthood and, like so many things, have realized that things change as you grow. I caught references that I certainly would have never caught before, I found myself not as fearful, and the reading went by a lot quicker. King put out some quality books and really molded the contemporary horror genre.
Then something changed. I'm not sure what it was...but something felt different. The books King was putting out weren't the books by my beloved author. Yes, I read them, but there was something...wrong. I'm a huge Dark Tower fan and I found myself reading King's books (the ones I loathed) just for the hidden Easter Eggs into the Dark Tower world.
That's a horrible way to start a review. I just wanted it to be clear that I've been not grooving on King's work for the past few years, nay decade. So enter "Under the Dome".
I was instantly captured by the story when King leaked the description onto his website. I got onboard with it. Then the preorder battle began and I felt I'd gotten the deal of a lifetime when I snagged the $35 book for $9. Suck it Barnes and Noble! Then I realized that this mama jama was near 1100 pages in length! Are you fuckin' kidding me?
I read it (not in one sitting) and will say this: It's good. It's not great, it's not bad. It's certainly a redeeming piece if, like me, you've found your interest in Stephen King wane.
I'll address this head-on first: This is not the Simpsons Movie. I've heard people cross referencing the Simpsons movie, etc, since this came out. Even I, while in the first 250 pages was bemoaning the parallels - the polluted lakes and streams, the obvious dome, and a very similar Simpsons-like parishoner. Hmmmmmm...
Having finished it it's nothing more than coincidence. Truly. No doubt the argument will rumble on for the end of King's life, but that's just people who haven't read the book. Read it and you'll see that this was probably conceptualized years before, as King has said time and time again.
What's Good?

The main characters are great and solid. King's characters of late have lacked something. I'm not sure what. But this epic tale of good pitted against evil has to have some power players. You get that in Dale Barbie and Big Jim Rennie. While some of the things that come out of their mouth are ludicrous, you have one really scary mofo in Big Jim Rennie and one humble "cowboy" in Barbie.
The political tension. It's apparent that King was putting the finishing touches (or actually writing it) during the McCain-Obama presidential election. I saw sides of people during that year that displayed the ugliest of human nature - on both sides of the political fence. People declared people homos, racists, sexists, unitelligent and all of this completely unwarranted. Now imagine being caught in that hell day in and day out? That's what you've got. And King displays that very, very well. Better now than he ever has.
Truly visceral scenes. I have no problem with violence and bloody gore. I'm no prude. However, there are scenes in this book (a rape scene and the aftermath come to mind) that had be ungodly uncomfortable. It was as if Brian Keene had stepped in for a moment and tackled the brutality and gore on King's behalf. There are numerous scenes of true human horror that had be not wanting to go on. I think that's a testament to the writing.

What's not so good? Sadly, this list is a bit longer.

The dialogue. Most of it's solid enough, but then you've got these scenes that feel out of place because of the cheesy dialogue. When it's bad it's abyssmal. We're talking SyFy original movie bad. If the book had been going that direction that would be cool ( I love B-movies and SyFy). Trouble is, this book isn't going that direction and that's a problem.
Too many plotlines. I know this sounds nitpicky - look at The Stand, for chrissakes - but this was a problem in this particular book. It reads quick enough, but it's got so many unnecessary scenes and characters that I rolled my eyes. As reading I kept plunging ahead 'cause I knew that some of those little things would come back in the end. They never did, and I felt I'd been jipped. Interestingly enough, some of those unnecessary scenes are some of the best written ones.
The payoff. This was the biggest disappointment to me! In a novel like this you've got to have a solid payoff. We want to know what the Dome is and where the hell it came from. I'm not going to spoil it here for you. What I will say is this: the payoff happens and passes like a quick little joke. I wanted to see that fleshed out. After all, we've got a story about A DOME, and we want to know what the point of it all is. Rather, it took something grizzly and "Lord of the Flies"-esque and cheapens it into a bad "Twilight Zone" episode.

All in all, I give it 3.5 stars. It's not a bad read by any means. It's good. If you're a King fan you'll love it. If you're not a King fan, you'll probably not love it so much, as it does read like oldschool King moreso than the King of late. (King fans, you'll get a few Easter Eggs here and there)

Until we meet again...happy reading.

Recession-Proof Holiday Gifts Just For YOU!

2009-11-20T11:08:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas! Happy Solstice! Happy Hannukah! Krazy Kwanza!
Whatever it is you celebrate one thing is certain: this holiday's gift giving is going to be tight. You are absolutely correct. So how do you appease your economical stance and still get something groovy and nifty to give. Well here's how:
From your friendly author, Eric Mays, I'm doing a holiday gift thing. If you haven't read "Naked Metamorphosis" then pick up a copy for yourself and/or someone you love. If you've read it, then you know it's good. Give it as a gift. Or, if you hated it, give it to somebody you hate and the joke's on them! Either way, you win.
In the words of the late Billy Mays (no relation), "But wait, there's more!"
This is the gift that gives back. When you purchase a copy of Naked Metamorphosis on Amazon, email me and let me know (ericm@witty.com). When you do that I will write a story just for you. It'll be a Shakespearean short story using you as the character. Don't want that? Send me another person and I'll do the same. The story will employ Shakespearean devices, your characters lineage, and your method of demise. Oh yeah! Suck on that English 101 teacher!!
I'll mail this to you - snail mail, not email - and you'll have a hard copy story you can always cherish.
So, to repeat:
1.) Naked Metamorphosis makes a great gift!
2.) You get a freebie gift personalized for you!
3.) You'll get a warm fuzzy feeling in the cockles of your heart knowing that you're supporting an independent artisan...me!

Act now! This offer is only good until December 18th.

Go, go, go...

And the reviews just keep on coming...

2009-11-10T07:44:00.000-08:00

I've been relieved that people have been receptive to "Naked Metamorphosis". There was a distinct part of me that feared someone would accuse me of literary snobbery (and I kinda guess there's still time for that to happen). I'm truly blessed that there has been favorable and positive feedback to the book.

Kevin Shamel, author of Rotten Little Animals, a book that I reviewed here a month back, reviewed Naked Metamorphosis yesterday. And his review nearly made me cry with joy. Y'see there are some hidden jokes within the text. You don't have to get them to not enjoy it, but if you do get them, well, you win the "Where's Waldo Prize Pack". You can visit Kevin at his website: www.shamelesscreations.com. He's a wonderful author and definitely going places.

Here's his review:
It’s Hamlet. Sort of.
It’s brilliant, really.
Eric Mays has rewritten Hamlet into a bizarro world of not quite right and completely perfect. The book starts almost like Hamlet begins. It ends almost like Hamlet ends. Between beginning and end is a gorgeous, hilarious, bizarro ride through a deranged play within a play within a play. The Bard would roll over in his grave only for the chance of bumping into Kafka; both have been resurrected and mixed up with a dash of literary magic.
I admit that it took me a while to read this book. It’s not necessarily a quick read. You have to pay attention to get all the in-jokes, wordplay, and ideas packed inside. It’s really a lot like Hamlet. But it’s not a difficult read. Mays’ style is flowing. His writing is tight and right. I couldn’t put it down once I hit the middle of it.Fans of Shakespeare, Kafka, Alfred Lunt (you have to know what you’re looking for), a surprise famous author, and Bizarro will love this book. Order now!!.
It’s funny, insightful, interesting, crazy, fun, and the ending is PERFECT.
Bravo to Eric Mays. I can’t wait to see what he does next. Whatever it is, I’ll be he shines

Also, Withersin Magazine posted their full review today. Actually, at Kevin's suggestion I became a fan of Withersin Magazine, and definitely think you should too. It's good, solid stuff. And it seems to be run by one of the coolest groups around.
Here's what they said:
Eraserhead, run by popular Bizarro author Carlton Mellick III and his wife Rose O’ Keefe, has made a very bold choice with Eric Mays’ Naked Metamorphosis , the kind of choice that comes as a surprise and a relief. For one of the biggest arbiters of Bizarro taste to take this risk is quite admirable, as this book will not conform to people’s definition of Bizarro. It is one of those instances of quiet Bizarro, taking more of its influences from classic literature and pure, Kafkaesque absurdism rather than from cult cinema, comics or genre fiction. In this respect, Naked Metamorphosis is very distinctive.

Naked Metamorphosis tells the story of Hamlet from Horatio’s perspective. Horatio is an ideal existential and Bizarro hero, a person whose purpose on Earth is to gain answers and order from a chaotic world. Bizarro heroes have the choice of raging against the madness around them or becoming part of it, embracing the chaos and inviting it into their lives. Horatio fights hard for his sanity, which is taxed by the weird behavior of the rest of the play’s cast (especially constant irritant Hamlet) and encounters with Puck, a being generally accepted as an embodiment of the world’s chaos. On account of this chaos, Horatio needs a Horatio of his own, courtier Osric. An often hilarious tale of one man’s quest for sense in a world that refuses to provide any. Stoppardian, whimsical and subtle in its transgressions, this is a book for Shakespeare buffs and Bizarro readers looking for a lighter more literary brand of Bizarro. If you’re a Bizarro fan and somebody says Bizarro is brainless, filthy and lame, give them a copy of this.

Thanks kids...until we meet again.

The Amazing Jordan Krall

2009-11-04T08:47:00.000-08:00

Jordan Krall's a cool dude. His writing is like a twisted Elmore Leonard (he even writes westerns and mystery pulp) and his humor is dark. I remember reading "Squid Pulp Blues" and loving it. In fact, it's one of a few that I've actually read four times. Then I got my hands on "Fistful of Feet", which is Jordan's homage to the spaghetti western. It's wonderful! I posted a review of it a few days ago.
Needless to say, I'm a fan! So, imagine my wonderment when I open up my amazon page and see a review on "Naked Metamorphosis" by the man, himself. WOW! Wherever you are, whatever you're doing...you're getting a big hug from me. Thanks, man!

Find it here: http://www.amazon.com/Naked-Metamorphosis-Eric-Mays/dp/1933929901/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1257353437&sr=8-1

Or read it here:
When I first heard about a Shakespearean bizarro book, I was like "Uggghhh..." because I just wasn't into that old English stuff. But I heard that it was crossed with Kafka but still, I wasn't really a huge fan of Shakespeare and so I was reluctant to check it out considering how little time I have to read new books.
But then I had the pleasure to attend a reading by the author at this year's Bizarro Convention. After that, I was sold. His performance was animated and funny, capturing the characters perfectly and I'm a guy who usually finds author readings a bit boring. So the fact that I enjoyed it says a lot about the his talent at storytelling.
First of all, the book is straight out hilarious. I'm sure I didn't get all of the in-jokes about Shakespeare but the ones I did get are funny and the dialogue is quick, witty, and clever. I'm not easily amused when it comes to comedy in a book but this one amused me a lot and I found myself shaking my head many times (in a good way).
Second, the writing is excellent. There was no awkwardness to the prose or bumps in the road that you see from many new authors. Despite this being the debut work of the author, you didn't get that feeling.
Third, the ideas presented are both bizarre and entertaining which is a hard thing to accomplish. There is actually a "twist" that I will not spoil but I found it to be an excellent close to the novella. It was something that crossed my mind during the middle of the book but the fact that it actually happened made me wonder if the author was reading my mind, haha! The Shakespeare thing is the obvious angle of the book but believe me, even if you hated reading it in school, don't let that turn you off. THIS is what Shakespeare should sound like. It's anachronistic, weird, funny, and fast moving.
I supposed my one criticism is the length. Though the whole plot is played out well, I think there are certain aspects that could've been expanded. I don't really want to mention them specifically (don't won't to spoil it) but if you read it you'll probably agree.
But let me put it this way. I would love to read five more books set in this "world"... it's that entertaining. It's a quick read, too, so those with tight schedules don't have to worry. I imagine that even if you didn't love it as much as I did, you wouldn't feel like you've wasted your time.
So basically, if you like both Shakespeare and Kafka, or you dislike Shakespeare but you like funny and weird stories, you should check this out. It would also make good stocking stuffers for fans of Shakespeare, Kafka, or weird/bizarro fans in general.

You Morbid Westphal

2009-11-03T11:34:00.000-08:00

The concept of “You Morbid Westphal” shouldn’t have worked at all! There’s no way it was supposed to. I’ve seen some experimental fiction like this before and watched as it plummeted into the abyss face-first leaving irate readers in its wake. This is supposed to be that sort of book…
…but it succeeds…beautifully.
For starters, the title You Morbid Westphal is setting up the three main characters. You…as in you…yes, you, Morbid, a malicious little beastie, and Westphal, who’s just trying to get through the graveyard shift at the hospital you’re in. These are the three main characters and they share the piece in circular stories. The “you” portions of the book read like a “Choose-Your-Own-Adventure” book…placing you right in the action. You’re responsible for birthing Morbid. You’re not going to have a very good night. You’re experiencing it as it unfolds. This style is not my typical fare, but I was captivated by it. I loved seeing what havoc was unfurling around my world. Meanwhile you get the other two stories (obviously connected). One follows Morbid as he indulges his macabre whims and the coke-addled Westphal. Should you find yourself in a hospital, pray it isn’t this one. In fact, I’m not above the cliché…I’ll say it: You Morbid Westphal does for hospitals what Jaws did for beach getaways!
Steven Rage is a masterful storyteller. He weaves a world that his painted in black and white hues, where anything can happen (and often does), and his brutally visceral. I realize that this is a horror tale…I guess you could call it that. It’s got more emotion than your typical horror fare. I felt the emotional rollercoaster travel from repulsed to humored to moved and back again. And the end…well, I’m not the one to spill the beans, but rest assured, you’ll not know what is in store for “You” until you reach the final pages.
My biggest complaint with the book was the length. I craved more, which is a wonderful thing, and wanted to see more of the story fleshed out. I make no bones about it…I’m a longer fiction type person. But I never dismiss a solid story, and this was certainly that. The fact that I wanted more should attest to the quality.
Too, at first I was a little confused with the circular-style storytelling. It’s a three ring circus…not a crazy train that has too many clashing storylines…but in the beginning it is a little confusing.** Please keep reading, though. In the end it’s worth it all and Steven Rage does bring it together nicely.
If you like your horror visceral pick this up. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

Fistful of Feet

2009-11-02T12:40:00.000-08:00

So, you either like Jordan Krall or you don't, just like you either like Nora Roberts or you don't. Jordan Krall is not Nora Roberts. And, it's a real shame that he's not topping the bestseller's list because he's an outstanding writer. Outstanding. What I love the most, though, is the dedication, the homages, Jordan Krall pays towards certain genres. Squid Pulp Blues was for noir; Fistful of Feet is Krall's spaghetti western. Just like the spaghetti westerns we all know and love, there are good guys and bad guys (and often times good bad guys and bad good guys). All the characters are black and white; the violence is gritty; the whorehouse is hot; and everybody seems out to get everyone else. Now take that western landscape and twist it with Lovecraftian imagery and you've got a great landscape for this western to play out. Screwhouse, Nevada is as gritty as "Deadwood", where they'll shoot you for conning men out of poker, and blow your legs out with dynamite. Known for it's legendary brothel (which is easily a sampling of every "Real Sex" episode HBO has ever shown...if it's a twisted fetish, you can get it here), the working ladies are just as tough as the cowboys who visit them. The Eastwood-like stranger appears as one Calamaro from New Jersey. He's exactly what you'd expect in your "hero". And once he arrives in town, all the characters come out of the woodwork - a local gang dead set on making life tough for the stranger, bizarro whores, a prissy con man, a determined-to-get-to-California whore, the sheriff, a drug-peddling general store man, a gang looking for Confederate gold, and the very randy mayor. And if that wasn't enough, there's a serial killer on the loose, carving up local girls. And, of course, there's Indians. Confused? That's the book's one major flaw. There are so many characters introduced and so many plotlines going at once, it tends to get a little confusing. With any other writer this would be a problem. With Jordan Krall, it's not. Jordan knows where the action's going...he knows he's taking the reader on a wild trip...we're confused, but he's going to wrap it up in the end with a nice bow. I've read Piecemeal June and Squid Pulp Blues. Fistful of Feet is, in my opinion, his best. Congrats, Jordan Krall, you've done it again.

Naked Metamorphosis Goes International

2009-10-28T10:26:00.000-07:00

Okay, kids! Exciting news today...and I really needed it. I open my email today after weeks and weeks of hard promotions work and what do I see?

Hi Eric:
Barrie Public Library will order the book Naked Metamorphosis.
Thank you for giving the information about the contents.
Mary McAlpine
Information Services

Now, for those that don't know, Barrie is in Canada. Shortly thereafter I received emails from Medicine Hat (coolest named city ever!) and the library system of Cambridgeshire, UK. All of them are purchasing at least 1 copy of Naked Metamorphosis.

This is awesome, as you may imagine. Yes, I'd rather people purchase the book than check it out from the library, but making it available across the globe is wonderful for buzz. In fact, if you think about it, go ahead and call your local library and request that they pick up a copy, too! It's really what it's all about.

I realize this post isn't that exciting. Believe me, I get it. I'm too tired, though, and busy at work (hee hee) and just wanted to share some good news.

Peace, kids! Peace!

BizarroCon 2009!

2009-10-27T07:15:00.000-07:00

So...where to begin? BizarroCon was a HUGE success. What other convention can you go to and make so many new friends (one of which you talked about porn with during the course of two days)? Where else can you go where you can get copious amounts of fresh brewed beer made just for you? Where else can you go and see performance pieces that included a lactating Viking warlord, a talking poo puppet, and an interactive reading for Rotten Little Animals?
The answer is, of course, BizarroCon! Eraserhead Press has some amazing things in the pipeline right now, great books on the rise (including a new imprint that will be for comics), and some amazing titles that require you to check them out.
While I'm completely drained of all physical energy, the suffering is and was totally worth it.
The reading of Naked Metamorphosis was a high-energy, overly theatrical performance (not as inventive as Kevin Shamel's Rotten Little Animals puppet show), but I felt great about it! Met a young lady (aspiring writer and theatre) from British Columbia who picked up a copy (thank you, Sam)....so my tale has ventured into International waters. Thank God for Canada.
My Bizarro Showdown piece was an interesting story. I had several ideas that all got scrapped last minute and did a Dr. Seuss inspired tale about masturbation (yes, I was shocked too). For those that want to read it, I'll be sure to tell you how. Let me say this, if you purchase a copy of "Naked Metamorphosis" and post a review on Amazon, I'll send you a personal copy through USPS on my dime, with a hand drawn image and a Shakespearean insult! That's a cool little promo, right?
Also, my facebook page lit up! Now I've got over 100 friends, which is nice on the self-deprecation.
Sadly, I was either too busy, too tired (seriously, about 2 hours per night and two 36 hour days), or too tipsy to remember to take any, but I'll post some that I find here when I get them!
Too, here are some books to recommend:

Fistful of Feet
Ass Goblins of Auschwitz
Jack and Mr. Grin
House of Houses
Warrior WolfWomen of the Wasteland (especially if you loathe McDonald's)
Carnageland
Sex Dungeon for Sale
Shatnerquake
Rotten Little Animals
The Slow Poisoner
And the Magazine of Bizarro Fiction #2!

Also, if you go to iTunes and want some really wicked music, check out Andrew Goldfarb, the Slow Poisoner, as he sings rockabilly riffs that will have you laughing. And, stay tuned for a nice picture of me, Eric Mays, smothered in copious amounts of raw squid (*yes, I was slimed*)

First reviews!

2009-10-15T16:27:00.000-07:00

RVA News Quick Book Blurb posts says:

"the literary mash-up and alternate lit is big business. It ranges from great to god-awful. Naked Metamorphosis by Eric Mays is a new addition to this emerging genre. It's the first time the subtleties of Hamlet are explored, and is riddled with hilarity. The later acts feel a bit rushed (was the author under a deadline?), but if you enjoy Gregory Maguire, the master of this genre, you should give it a look."

Stories in the Sex Dungeon

2009-10-14T14:14:00.000-07:00

Patrick Wensink has got a story to tell you. He actually has several stories to tell you...and I advise you to pay attention. Sex Dungeon for Sale may sound shocking, but it's a great representation of how diverse bizarro can be, and why the genre is so appealing. Sure, we love the weird strangeness. But, when you can do bizarro, shedding some of the pulp and shock, you get a decent read, too. That's what bizarro is. It's a collective of unique ideas that are outside the realm. (Twilight Zone is bizarro on the family friendly scale, where as Perversions of Science was a little more mature)
Here's the deal. If you like humor, dark humor, and savvy wit, pick up a copy of this book. Reading it, several of the tales, particularly "Clean Bill of Health", reminded me of something O. Henry might scribe. Other stories - Wash, Rinse and Repeat and Jesus Toast - remind me of Palahniuk. I'm not saying Wensink mimicked their style...I'm just sayin', they're quality reads.
I'm not typically a fan of anthologies (kind of like I'm not a fan of anthropomorphism...it's nice to see me pleasantly surprised), but I really liked this one.
I blew Coke (not coke) out of my nose reading "Sex Dungeon for Sale"...and will never be able to think rumpus room without giggling like a middle schooler. I feel comfortable now that I've been schooled on kidnapping. And, I'm relieved that Rico Suave himself, the irreplaceable Gerardo, is here. My two personal favorites, though (and I have a dark sense of humor), are Clean Bill of Health and The Many Lives of James Brown's Capes. I'm happy to know how much "sex machine" fetched.
Sex Dungeon for Sale is a quality collection. Most are quick reads that you can grapple in one brief sitting. So, if nothing else, get a copy, keep it in the bathroom, and chuckle your ass off!
Check out Patrick's book at amazon.com and help us authors out. We write stories for you!

Carnageland

2009-10-14T08:04:00.000-07:00

David Barbee is a sick man – and I use that as a term of endearment.
Carnageland is an interesting read. There’s little character development; the characters are what they are. There’s some repetition in the action. But I loved the hell out of it. Why? Well, it’s the same reason that I love the hell out of Corman flicks or SciFi (now, the oddly named SyFy) original movies. Because they’re like sugary confectionary Saturday Morning cartoons for adults.
If you’re looking for a sympathetic character and massive development, or even scientific gadgetry in your sci-fi, then bypass this book. If you watched Saturday Morning cartoons, like B-grade movies and twisted fairytales, then you’ll absolutely love this book, like I did.
Remember Sherman and Peabody? Yeah, those two. They were always messing with history. Fractured Fairytales did the same. Now, imagine that land, twisted by Todd McFarlane, and invaded by aliens. There you go…that’s kind of what Carnageland is.
It opens with 898 preparing for invasion. Inpire, Inc, the world where these “invaders” come from, is a pretty cool place, and I’d love to see more of it in the future. Aliens are selected by an epic claw (just like Toy Story…”the claw is our master”!) as the chosen invaders. Well, 898 gets selected to decimate a planet filled with fantastical beasts…slightly twisted fairytale creations. And decimate he does. If you’ve ever imagined some of the fairytale creatures getting slaughtered in horrific fashion, well, now’s your chance to see it unfold. (On a side note, my favorite twisted character was the Ninjerbread Man…’nuff said.)
Carnageland is a fast read – almost too fast, ‘cause I wanted more – and fun. It really is like Roger Corman got his hands on the works of Piers Anthony and went to town.
Carnageland is available at Amazon.com…help us authors out.

Rotten Little Book

2009-10-13T15:01:00.001-07:00

I've had the distinct pleasure of befriending Kevin Shamel over the past month. He's a groovy author breaking into the bizarro scene with his entry in the NBAS (as am I, though Kevin's been bizarroing it up a whole lot longer). His entry is Rotten Little Animals, which is...distubingly funny.
Let me first say this: this book has a lot of poop in it. No, not the bad kind of poop (like it sucks), I'm talking actual poo. Excrement, feces, ca-ca, shit. But then again, we're talking about a book filled with animals and if you've ever owned one, you know they poop a lot. So, now that that's out of the way...
Rotten Little Animals is a book about animals, but we ain't talkin' 'bout Charlotte's Web. This is not even Beatrix Potter style animals. Rotten Little Animals is what you'd get if Quentin Tarantino had a love child with Beatrix Potter. It's like merging South Park and Sesame Street.
So, animals live and breathe in our world, but are capable of things we can't even fathom. They speak, for starters, and they drink, cuss, enjoy human pornography, and are capable of working movie cameras. Their biggest goal, though, is to make humans feel like they are superior because they have thumbs, so they do their activities in secret (like the Animal Academy Awards).
Meet Itsy, Stinkin' Rat, Julio, Filthy Pig, and Dirty Bird, as well as the numerous zombie-cats and camera crew chickens. They're out to make the perfect Animal movie. Unfortunately, their plans are thwarted when they're spotted by the boy across the street, Cage. Cage is kidnapped, tortured, and videotaped for an entirely new project.
Later he offers, he used to like animals.
The anthropomorphic thing, I was a little skeptical, but soon after the first act, the story kicks into gear following Cage - through trauma, murder, psychological rehab, fame, and a brief fling with Paris Hilton. I don't want to give too much away, so I'll stop there and hope that I've whetted your appetite.
One thing, the book moves quick. I read it in a sitting and plan to revisit it. I realize as you're zipping through the thing, you tend to miss something. There are few books that I would revisit - more that I always intend to and never do - but Shamel's book is one I'll definitely recommend, gift, and revisit for years to come.
Help us authors out...visit amazon.com and pick yours up.

Naked Metamorphosis is Available

2009-10-11T14:32:00.000-07:00

It's out! Yes, my brain bay has been birthed...though not as big as that Australian baby (19 lbs?!) . Naked metamorphosis is available at amazon.com and you should definitely purchase a copy.

if you need something to get the free shipping from Amazon...look for the following: Ass Goblins of Auschwitz, Fistful of Feet, Rotten Little Animals, and Carnageland.

The First Zombie Trilogy of October 2009 (and another zombie flick...)

2009-10-08T05:42:00.000-07:00

Good morning, ghouls! Speaking of ghouls, I heart zombies. Whether it's the cool folder my friend Re-Re got me (including all things zombie, even a conversion chart for metric brains) to the baseball jersey that reads: I heart (and it's an actual heart) Zombies. I even like that stupid little Pop-Cap game, "Plants vs. Zombies". I have an addiction. A serious problem.
This October I wanted to explore the roots of the zombie legend, though. Sure, everyone loves the Romero zombie, which defined the genre the way it is today. However, many forget about the voodoo legends and how zombies have changed a bit over the years (though, I'm actually reminded of "The Serpent and the Rainbow" which did work with the voodoo concept of zombies and was pretty good. I'll have to revisit this).
So I went back in the way-way-back machine to discover all that zombies can offer. It's not a real trilogy, but the films are all connected.
First, White Zombie. I'd never seen this one, and it's a real shame. I guess Bela Lugosi has always maintained that Dracula persona and never once would I have rather associated him as a Haitian sugarcane plantation owner.
The movie works. Looking at the film, it's the first of the thrities that I can see was utterly scary. The concept itself is very Dollhouse, and in a pre-WW2 time, that is rather spooky. Bela is wonderful in the film, though I question the decision for that ridiculous looking Fu Manchu beard of his. Not so sure that this makes it "authentic Haitian". Don't know, though. Maybe Haiti changed over time.
Also from the 30's, I Walked With A Zombie. I don't think that this is so much a horror movie as it is a primer for Haitian zombies. It's a tight psychological piece, that drops some zombie knowledge on our asses.
Basically, a new doctor moves to Jamaica (not Haiti...my bad) to hospice care for a rich guy's wife. Everyone thinks that the wife is a zombie. Thus begins the search into what is a zombie? How does one become a zombie? Is she really dying? Are their conspiracies afoot?
Personally, for me, I loved it because it's got one of my favorite actors in it (joking, but sort of not) - Snowflake.
Finally, there's Tales From the Crypt: Ritual. There's always got to be one crap one, right? Well this is it. This was supposed to be the follow-up for the Tales From the Crypt movies (following the wonderful "Demon Knight" and the lackluster, but fun, "Bordello of Blood"). Ritual is a straight to DVD release. And it kind of shocked me: the cast has Tim Curry, Jennifer Grey, and Craig Sheffer, as well as John Kassir as the voice of the Cryptkeeper. Seemed to me to be a good enough cast.
While the script is pretty good, the acting is subpar. The pacing it lethargic. The movie just doesn't work. There's some pretty good gore effects, but they're few and far between.
Why, pray tell, is this film the piece in a zombie trilogy? Well, it's not. I included it because it's a remake of I Walked With A Zombie. Jennifer Grey plays the disgraced doctor who moves to Jamaica to perform hospice care. Craig Sheffer plays the rich baron. This time, though, she's caring for his brother not his wife.
Not the worst movie ever, and it might be worth taking a look at. But, it should have remained a thrity minute Tales from the Crypt episode.

Finally...I just saw Zombieland, which I think may be one of my favorites of the year. I'll write more about it soon...because this movie had more going for it than the comedy, acting, writing. The cinematography is beautiful, the slow-mo scenes in the beginning (done by the same guy who did the slo-mo in The Watchmen) is gorgeous. I'll write more about this soon.

Final Cover! Hooray!

2009-10-07T06:22:00.000-07:00

After the epic title wars (as chronicled in the ninth month of the year of our Lord 2,009, by scribe Eric) the cover has been tweaked a bit! Allow me to introduce you to:

Naked Metamorphosis...

Naked Metamorphosis and Shakespearean Insults

2009-10-06T09:28:00.000-07:00

Most people know I'm a quotes guy. I love 'em. Probably that English major inside. I don't know what it is, but I love that people (famous, smart people) contradict themselves all the time and it's caught in the annals of history for all to share. I'm always amazed by what people say now - especially in contrast to what people said then.
I was looking into Shakespearean Insults (something I love, personally, and will come to later) and came across my files from some of the research for the upcoming book. Interesting quotes that I never associated with the thing.
From Franz Kafka:
A man of action forced into a state of thought is unhappy until he can get out of it.
God gives us nuts, but he does not crack them.
Heaven is dumb, echoing only the dumb.
It's fascinating to me that I never paid more attention to these at the time. Just sort of glanced over them. These three quotes really echo the themes of NAKED METAMORPHOSIS.
From William S. Burroughs:
I don't care if people hate my guts; I assume most of them do.
Every man has inside himself a parasitic being who is acting not at all to his advantage.
A paranoid is a person who knows little of what's going on.
Again, major thematic statements about NAKED METAMORPHOSIS. Too, major statements about Hamlet. All could be interjected in a thesis on Shakespeare's Danish Prince. Fascinating...or maybe not.
Now, onto quotable Shakespeare...
Most know I'm a buff. I love the guy. Why? It's not the floral arrangement English he chose to use. Nor is it the pendulous swing from comedy to tragedy. No, I love Shakespeare 'cause he was a controversialist and, perhaps, one of the first bizarro writers.
His ideas were sweeping fantasies, just about always including an element of the supernatural. But beyond that veneer, Shakespeare pushed the envelope of proper heftily. The stories are bawdy, dirty, borderline pornographic. If most High School students caught the innuendos and references, they'd eat it up like crack.
There were definite devices that Shakespeare employed: mistaken identities, long lost love, the supernatural, situational comedy of errors, mental illness as humor, questionable morals, strong female characters (played by men, but the female characters are some of the most fascinating in literature). All these devices make it into NAKED METAMORPHOSIS. I'm happy about that.
Don't believe me about the Shakespeare thing? I'm pretty sure (...and by pretty sure, I mean like Wikipedia pretty sure) that the Bard perfected the insult.
Take these for instance:
"You impertinent, hell-hated malcontent!"
Not too shabby, eh?
What about: "Infectious, tardy-gaited Basket-Cockle!"
Not too sure what Basket-Cockle is, or tardy-gaited, but I've incorporated them into my vocab!Here the Bard goes straight for the juggular: "Wart-necked, fat-kidneyed canker-blossom!" I think I knew a girl in High School who fell into that category.
My favorite, though, is "beef-witted whore master!"
So as I'm signing, I feel it is my obligation to educate the masses. You may receive a Shakespearean insult in the front cover. Don't worry, I'm not insulting you. Well, I am. But it's in the name of education.

Enjoy...you filthy scuts!

Halloween Marathon Continues...

2009-10-05T08:43:00.000-07:00

So, we started with classic wolf-man fare. I gotta say, the werewolves get no love. Sure, they pop up in all the vampire cultural phenomena, but as nothing more than background fluff. I don't want to make the case that werewolves are cooler than vamps, or vice-versa (Lord knows there are too many "Twilight" fans and "True Blood" fans that would love to lynch any lycanthropes from rising to power). Alls I'm sayin' is that werewolves are pretty freakin' cool. And, I think that may be because their usage is sparse, in comparison to the mass expansion of vampires in pop-culture today. Think of it, though...there have been some pretty cool werewolves. Michael J. Fox, Jason Bateman, Jack Nicholson, and, soon, Benecio Del Toro (though, he was the dog-boy in Big Top Pee Wee...that counts, right?).
But I digress.
I did follow up the initial trilogy with two addendums - fluffy, sugary, nonsensical cinema. But the two films compliment the Wolf-Man saga pretty well.
First, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein. Now, Abbott and Costello are comic geniuses, make no bones about it. What's fascinating about this match-up is the supporting cast. Of course, Chaney is back as the tormented Larry Talbot (give the man credit) and Bela Lugosi returns into the role of Dracula. Karloff is not in the mix. Instead, Glenn Strange shows up as the Frankenstein Monster.
Don't ask me how all these characters came together. It was an interesting plotpoint in House of Frankenstein, in A&C Meet Frankenstein, it's just nonsense. It doesn't matter, though, it's friggin' Abbott and Costello.
If you've never seen it, you're doing yourself a huge disservice. This is classic comedy. The interactions between Costello and the Wolf-Man in the woods is hilarious and on the verge of classic Three Stooges. And watching it, it reminded me of growing up with classic cinema and classic comedy like this...which is not found in today's raunchy comedy.
The other bookend on this trilogy, which also reminded me of childhood (though the Saturday morning cartoons), was Van Helsing.
I know, I know. Everyone HATED Van Helsing. If you're a hardcore hater, go back and take another look. It's not that bad. Yes, it's B-Movie grade with B-Movie acting that's trying to pass itself off as A-List material. That's the movie's fatal flaw. However, Van Helsing is the powdered sugar of movies. It is what it is. And, what it is, is fun...if you can get past the pretentions it brings.
If Roger Corman had been given a Speilberg-sized budget back in the sixties, this is the flick he would have churned out. No doubt in my mind.
So why did people hate it?
1.) Wolverine's not playing Wolverine; 2.)Nobody cares about the Universal Monsters anymore; 3.)Kate Beckinsale wasn't wearing her Underworld PVC dominatrix get-up.
Stephen Sommers did the same thing here he did with The Mummy franchise. He funned it up a bit, and got to play like a kid. Difference? He does some very cool stuf here.
Three reasons why you should revisit the film:
1.) Universal Monsters are very, very cool. The opening sequence is a beautifully well done homage to the classics;
2.) Shuler Hensley as Frankenstein's monster. I loved the Frankenstein monster storyline here. Karloff got close to humanizing the monster...but there's was only so much he could do. The role evolved into Peter Boyle adding humor to the beast. Now, Shuler Hensley perfects it. He truly is remarkable.
3.) Animation. The CG creatures are outstandingly remarkable. Remember, this is 2004 we're talking about. CGed Transformers hadn't come out yet. The animated beasts are insane! My personal favorite - Mr. Hyde (voiced by the wonderful Robbie Coltrane).
So, check 'em out, if you haven't already: Abbott and Costellor Meet Frankenstein & Van Helsing.
5 down...26 to go.

Halloween Movie Marathon!

2009-10-03T17:47:00.000-07:00

Most of you know that I'm a bit of a cineophile! I love movies - classics, B-films, and even the contemporary popcorn munchers. But nothing blows my skirts up more than a good, solid horror flick. That's why every October, I dedicate the month to the genre. Some are movies I've seen; others are movies that I've not. I realize that a lot of you know I have a soft spot in my heart for Italian horror (I know, I know, the Japanese are cranking out the creepy ones right now - but, Italians dominated the 70's and 80's).
Because I have to work...ugh...and have BizarroCon...hooray!...I'm squeezing in a few mini-marathons in. Here's the first. If you haven't checked them out, I strongly encourage it.

The Wolf-Man Marathon:
The Wolf-Man
The Wolf-Man Meets Frankenstein
The House of Frankenstein
Sure, on the surface it may not seem that these films are connected. However, it's the first example of a Hollywood trilogy (the subsequent Frankenstein and Dracula films followed these). The other unique factor here is that Lon Chaney Jr is the only actor to play a Universal Monster through all the flicks. That's right, he WAS the Wolf-Man. Frankenstein's Monster was played by Boris, Bela, Glenn and others and Dracula was played by too many actors...but in the Universal world look for Bela Lugosi and John Carradine.
The Wolf-Man is cinematic perfection. It doesn't give away too much...it doesn't give away too little. Interesting factoid: it's not the film that famous for the amazing Lon Chaney transformation. You see the lap-photography, but it's not 'til the last ten minutes. What you see if a transformation of the feet.
If you've never seen The Wolf-Man, do so. It's a great thriller and it clocks in at just over an hour - it's easy to squeeze in. Lon Chaney is an amazing physical actor. The stuff he does with the character is pretty remarkable, especially considering that he's a big guy. Too, the generic score used here (as it was recycled in all the Universal monster movies) works.
The big sequel to The Wolf-Man is The Wolf-Man meets Frankenstein. It's better than the first, if that's possible. Chaney, here, gets a chance to show his acting chops. He's wonderful as the sad-sap, afflicted everyman. Of course, he does happen upon Frankenstein's monster...and interesting concept that would be mimicked in the 60's...and their interactions are quite remarkable. Bela plays the monster in this flick, and I'll tell you, it's the first time you truly miss Karloff. Not that Bela's not talented. Playing the monster, though, you always though anyone could play it. Not true.
There's no real showdown between the two giant monsters until the last two minutes. Still, it's a fairly remarkable effort to contiue the story of Larry Talbot's troubled soul, with a passing mention of Frankenstein's name.
Finally, there's a joy! House of Frankenstein. This is probably my favorite Karloff performance. He plays an imprisoned mad scientist who idolized Frankenstein. He even has a hunchback follower named Daniel. Karloff is absolute evil here. He cares nothing about any other character. All he cares about is his own gain. And to that end...he drags all the Universal monsters into the batter.
First he frees Dracula (played by John Carradine, who's not bad, it's just after Bela Lugosi you kind of long for that authentic European flavor), then comes across the frozen corpses of Larry Talbot and the Frankenstein Monster (played here by Glenn Strange) from the end of the Wolf-Man Meets Frankenstein.
This was the first effort at a legitimate franchise and Universal nails it! The movie paces better than the other films in the Universal monster collection. It's also tributed to great performances (Boris and Lon are really at their very best).
If you're up for some classic horror...though, not scary by today's standards...check this trilogy out.

More to come...

Jimmy Plush, Teddy Bear Detective

2009-09-28T06:38:00.000-07:00

This is a little late, I guess...but better late than never, right? Another bizarro author, Garrett Cook, has a nice book coming out that I'm jonesin' to read. Everything is karma, and I'm hoping to send some good gris-gris his way by posting this here for him. The first chap is pretty great. Not to mention, it's a teddy bear kickin' ass and takin' names. Enjoy...

Excerpt from Jimmy Plush, Teddy Bear Detective

Below is an excerpt from “Jimmy Plush, Teddy Bear Detective” by Garrett Cook. You can preorder a copy at http://thegarrettcook.blogspot.com. I recommend doing so right now, because not only would you be getting a great book but you would be helping a new talented writer who could really use the support right now (he’s unemployed and trying to raise enough money to make it to BizarroCon next Month).
If you didn’t read my last blog about this book, here is the back cover description:“In a city ridden with prostitute furries, cannibal cops and warehouse-sized mob bosses, I’ve got my work cut out for me. My name is Jimmy Plush. I’m a private detective. I’m also a teddy bear. It all started when the original Jimmy Plush entered my life, offering to take my gambling debts away if I agreed to switch bodies with him. But I didn’t know that being a three-foot-high plush toy would be such a living hell, especially now that everyone in town wants a piece of me. All I’ve gotten out of this deal is a faithful Chinese chauffeur, a custom teddybear .45, and a girlfriend who won’t take off the fox suit she turns tricks in. Now I’ve got to keep this town clean and try to track down the real Jimmy Plush without losing my stuffing for good. Only one thing is for sure: Life is hard when you’re soft.
Jimmy Plush, Teddy Bear Detective is a high octane pulp satire. In the tradition of Sam Spade, The Shadow, Dick Tracy, Hellboy and Howard the Duck comes a new kind of hero, a hero that reminds us that the measure of a man is in his guts and his gun.”
Here’s the excerpt:
An Excerpt from Jimmy Plush, Teddy Bear Detective coming soon from Eraserhead Press“Mr. Plush and the Dead Horse”
Being a gumshoe is stressful. Being a gumshoe in the body of a three foot teddy bear is a hell of a lot more stressful than that. So I decided to take the day off for once. Since trading my body to that bastard teddy bear to pay off my gambling debts, the closest thing I’d gotten to time off was time spent face down in an alley unconscious. And unlike some people, I wasn’t there for leisure. I knew this day would start off with a couple of annoyances, but I thought it would end at that. The first one, I’d figured on. Having no private residence, I had a tendency to sleep in my office. I also had a lapdog of a Chinese chauffeur that had a habit of waiting outside with my limo ready to go and a tragic attempt at coffee in his hand. I stepped outside, and I was right. There was Chan with coffee staler than politics and pictures. I sighed.
“Chan, where do they grow the coffee in China?”
Even for a Chinaman, Chan went stiff.
“They do not grow coffee in China, Mot Honored Mister Plush.”
I took the coffee from him. This was an important part of my morning ritual lately.
“Do you wanna know why they don’t grow coffee in China, Chan?”
He sighed. There was anger behind his slanty subhuman eyes.
“Yes, Mister Plush. I would like to know why.”
I tossed the coffee in his face as I did every morning. The coffee was piping hot. Good old Chan. Even confronted with certain scalding he wouldn’t serve me lukewarm coffee.
“That is the worst damn coffee I’ve ever had. You run somebody’s laundry through the pot?”Chan folded his hands and bowed.
“Humblest apologies. Does Most Honored Mister Plush require breakfast? Or to be driven somewhere?”
“Does sycophantic Chan want to lose his job and have to make noodles for a living?” It’s important to be firm with one’s chauffeur.
“Chan is very sorry.” He bowed again. Chan bowed pretty often. Unavoidable when a kid hears Confucius in the nursery.
“I’m taking the day off, Chan.”
Chan looked at me as if I were the one that talked goofy all the time.
“Are you certain Mister Plush, there is a lot to be done, there is especially the matter of…”
I didn’t even wanna think about it.
“It can wait. He’ll wait.”
Chan laughed. “I do not think I would take getting shot as lightly as you have.”
“I don’t take it lightly, Chan. I got no leads, and I’m burnt out, so scram!”
Chan shrugged, got in the limo and drove off.
This left me alone. I called Jean and invited her to dinner. She said seven. I said not to wear the fox suit. She said I could go to Hell. I asked if she had any messages for her mother. She asked about the mess in her kitchen. I said I’d see her at seven and hung up, taking my phone off the hook afterwards. Within five minutes, I started pouring myself drinks. I was bored to tears. I shouldn’t have been.
There was a knock on the door. Chan was starting to make me real angry. How could people with so much opium in their country be so utterly against relaxation? I opened my door, wishing the chinaman had made me two cups of coffee. I wouldn’t drink the second one either. But it wasn’t Chan at the door. It was a pony wearing a police cap. There was a whistle and a badge around his neck. It seemed like the sort of thing that would be a bad omen. What did my granny from the old country say about a pony on your doorstep? Made me wish I hadn’t given up my memories during the transfer so I’d know things like that, like if I had a granny or where the hell the old country was.
“Sorry, pal,” I said to the pony, “this ain’t a stable and I’m closed for the day.”
“Listen, Plush,” the pony shot back in a voice that reminded me a little of Gary Cooper, “you don’t like meand I don’t like you, but I’ve got a problem. I’m gonna set aside my prejudices so we can make this town a little less awful.”
“Not interested. Go find yourself some oats and leave me alone, Seabiscuit.”
The pony got in my face.
“I don’t think you understand. I’ve got three dead city councilmen and a dead socialite. Think about it, four prospective kidnap victims. If they keep bumping off these people, there will be nobody to kidnap and murder’s one per customer, Plush. How long do you think a shameless shamus like yourself’s gonna last in a city where all the victims are already dead?”
He had a point. If I was going to maintain this lifestyle, I couldn’t have somebody icing every client that could pay me. Maybe I didn’t want to maintain this lifestyle, but when you’re a teddy bear with a bad reputation and nothing going for you but a chauffeur an office with “Jimmy Plush, Detective” on the door and a custom teddy bear handgun there usually ain’t many career paths open for you.
“Okay, horsey, you’ve got my attention. Now give me the details. Come on in.”
But before he could, three shots rang out and he was good as glue. If a pony on my doorstep was a badomen (and I couldn’t really tell if it was), then a dead pony on my doorstep was an awful one and a dead pony on my doorstep that had a badge was a disaster. I had to sort this out and I needed to do it fast.Lucky for me, Chan had not really taken off, but had instead parked the limo in an alley nearby and waited for me to change my mind. He pulled up to the curb, got out and gave me a bow. Even though I needed him now, I was not happy about this.
“I guess they don’t have days off in China either, huh?”Chan smiled.
“And yet, I’m not the one with a dead policeman on my doorstep.”
“Who is he? He knew the real Plush and hated him. Must have been a pretty good egg. For a pony.”Chan’s smile turned into a frown.
“He was. His name was Horskowitz. He was an honest cop, not into the same things the others are. He tried to put some of them away for corruption, so they beat him up, transferred him into the body of a pony. He didn’t quit. He felt that only showed how much he was needed. In my opinion, he was right.”
I could only think of one man that could be behind this.
“Chan, take me to J.L Wong’s.”
The scenery on the way to J.L Wong’s was pretty much the same tableau of heartbreak I was used to; Furries in species drag ranging from strap-on sporting mice to Murray the Monogram Unicorn waiting for clients against every lamppost, ugly hoods carrying violin cases, businessmen looking for a den where they could chase the dragon, a Chinatown that the Orientals were afraid to even go near. Same hell-on-earth where most of my cases ended up leading. Or was it? There was a giant black cloth covering the side of the street. Something huge was underneath, something the size of a few buildings or a gigantic warehouse. I hadn’t seen any construction or demolition going on last time I was here, and last time I was here was two days ago. Identical obese quintuplets in pink pinstripe suits stood outside guarding it. They were trying too hard to act natural.
“Chan, stop!” By the time I’d said it, he’d already stopped.
I got out since I had a sneaking suspicion that these five gentlemen might have had something to do with my case.
“Nice weather we’re havin’, huh?”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
“So…gentlemen, what’s under the cloth?”
“A carnival,” they replied, again in unison.
“It’ll never work,” I told them as I walked back to the car,“this town’s already too much fun.”

Title Agreed Upon?

2009-09-25T13:28:00.000-07:00

Some of you know that we've been having trouble with the title of this particular piece. Now, when I birthed this brain baby...I was pretty set on taking a Gregory Maguire-esque approach (i.e.: WICKED, CONFESSIONS OF AN UGLY STEPSISTER, et al). So, initially, this was entitled ROTTEN SOMETHINGS IN THE STATE OF DENMARK. That was then shortened to ROTTEN SOMETHINGS, and then SOMETHING ROTTEN. Trouble was, though, none of these really prompted people to want to pick up the book (when asked if they would).
So, we went back to the drawing board. When it was submitted it was entitled HAMLET: THE COLLEGE YEARS. Kevin, my editor, quickly pointed out that there was recently a HAMLET 2, and this might get confusing. I wanted to ride the coattails of that funny film, but Kevin had a point.
Back to the drawing board once more. Ugh! I understand why there are some urban kids named things like Viagra, and Levitra, and Allegra. Shit! If I'd pushed the kid out and couldn't come up with a name, you're damn straight that kid's getting named after a product.
Kevin and I had lists going of possible titles. Some were good: KAFKA'S HAMLET BOOK REPORT, COCKROACH NUNNERY, ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE...and too many more to remember.
Some were not so good, like: THE VERMIN OF ELSINORE (sounds like somebody played too much D&D).
It's less than a month from release and what on earth could this thing be called. Well, I'm pleased to announce that my brain baby will not succumb to lazy names like BONIVIA or CIALIS or LEMONJELLO. At present, we're 99.9999% sure it will be NAKED METAMORPHOSIS. Your thoughts?
Mark your calendars - it's coming...

Zombie Cat Puppet Contest!

2009-09-18T16:35:00.000-07:00

Okay, kids! I've seen some wild promos, and I've seen some interesting book premises. However, I've seen nothing like this! Kevin Shamel has a book coming out that is sure to rock! I can't wait to get my grubby little hands on it.
He's doing a contest to win a signed copy, and I think you guys might be interested in it. Zombies, check! Cats, check! Puppets, double check! That's right!
Check out his sight at www.shamelesscreations.com. And pick up ROTTEN LITTLE ANIMALS in October. Go ahead and pick up mine too!

Welcome to the Twisted Team

2009-09-18T08:57:00.001-07:00

You know you wanna join! Peer pressure, peer pressure, do it, do it! Yup, it's just like high school, right? You wanted to be one of the cool kids, didn't you?
Of course, we all grew up and figured out the cool kids ended up being the imbeciles who make life miserable every single day. It was never about being cool or uncool. It was about being yourself! Outcasts? Pshaw! Who's laughing now?

It's time, kids, to recruit up. I'm recruiting a Twisted Team (a little lame in the moniker department, but it is a recession and all I could afford was alliteration), who will help spread the Gospel According to me, which in turn is the Gospel According to you. (You'll realize soon enough, that writers, in some respects, are a little like gods. Be glad I'm not asking you to worship me, though that is optional.) The Twisted Team is my first offensive move to boost numbers of copies sold and guarantee that I can keep spinning yarns for you to read, for your kids to read, for their kids to read, and then for those silly Elois and Morlocks to burn - all god things must come to an end.

There's no pay, sadly, but there's a lot of perks. One, I'm dependent upon your feedback - you suggest it, chances are I'll try it out. You want a booksigning in your town? Let me know.
Two, you never know when I'm going to have goodies...and you like shiny goodies, don't you?

I guess the words of Randy Jackson of American Idol fame, I'm beggin' you to help a brotha out!

I'm not above shameless promotion.

Actual Excerpt and a little about Kevin Shamel

2009-09-17T05:49:00.000-07:00

Okay, gang...sorry, I meant to post this yesterday but was having a few problemos! Here's an excerpt from the first few pages. Enjoy...and talk amongst yourself.
Oh! And another title to pay attention to: Rotten Little Animals by Kevin Shamel. It comes out the same time. Rotten Little Animals is about a little boy captured by animals (cats, dogs, squirrels...zombie cats) and terrorized - with terrorist style videos, etc. You can find information at Kevin's website...www.shamelesscreations.com
Till we meet again...

1.

In the beginning there was…
…wait a sec! The god was surprised. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. There should be nothingness, a blank slab that would allow him to indulge in his creativity. Yet here he was, and here too were characters, animals, sweeping landscapes, and everything seemed drenched in epic proportions.
“Well shit,” said the god, blushing. It was no big deal to use colorful vernacular when you were speaking into the void. When there were already creations wandering the world it was considered unprofessional for a deity to use such language. You channeled that sort of behavior into the characters below, and filled them with guilt about it referring to them as sinners. “I suppose I’ll have to make do with what’s been handed to me.”
Disappointed as he was, he took the blow like a god should—never questioning, never complaining, and never thinking twice before acting.
He surveyed the world playing out beneath him. “Well, this is just tragic,” he said. Then he went to work.

2

There were hiding places and then there were hiding places. Sure there wasn’t much difference on the surface. The difference lay in the inflection. Thank gods for inflection.
Hiding places were the nooks and crannies that angsty teens oft hide themselves while looking at a naughty picture or succumbing to the whims of peer pressure. Hiding places were brought out of a little more desperation. A fugitive on the lam seeks the carcass of an expired deer to use as a hiding place. Or, a small Jewish girl who is forced to push her entire family into nothing more than a closet to hide from knot-zees—now that’s a hiding place. I wasn’t sure why the thought of goose-stepping knot-zees popped into my head. Horrible vision, that.
I’d chosen to hide the prince in a hiding place. After all, if you were looking to hide a member of the royal family (and perhaps a known fugitive) you needed a hiding place. A regular hiding place just wouldn’t do. Royals were always hiding dark secrets in any convenient nook or cranny in the castle. Lots of skeletons in the closets.
I’d chosen the barn because it was the last place anybody would seek out a prince. Princes had standards to uphold. It got worse the more princes there were. While the King may have stooped to being seen in such a rat hole, the Prince was forced to be far superior to his predecessor. And on, and on, and on.
The barn was perfect.
It was a shoddy little building that appeared to be put together by an individual of mental deficits. The building may have been a sturdy structure at one point, but now it was nothing more than a wooden skeleton. The breeze that blew over the countryside forced the barn to sway and creak, each creak sounding like a suicidal cry for help.
I composed myself. The Prince was…well, he was…needy. The fact that he was my college roommate aside, the Prince had changed into something…different. He’d treated me as nothing more than cow dung as I succumbed to his bidding. There was the belligerence in his mood. There was the abuse, both physical and verbal, that I’d never seen exhibited by my good prince. And of course, there was the over indulgence in drugs that had eaten craters throughout his brain.
The newest development—and the most disturbing by far—was that my lord, Prince Hamlet of Elsinore, had claimed he was turning into a cockroach. Metaphorically, yes, he was becoming an absolute vermin. But the prince meant the claim literally.

Excerpt of the New Book

2009-09-16T16:53:00.000-07:00

Okay, kids,

So here's a little gift for you - the cover art for the new book. I hope you like it. It's a lot of humor, a lot of highbrow literary commentary, and a long journey. Basically, it Hamlet as if it was told by Shakespeare, then told by Franz Kafka, then told by William S. Burroughs, then told by George W. Bush.

Okay, is your mind about to explode? Good!

No, seriously. It took a lot of work. I think I got the style and thematic elements. Remember, it comes out October 20th, and I want you all to order it, review it on Amazon.com - all of you...reviews are essential - and recommend it. Read it on the Light Rail, the subway, in the cab. Get it out there!

Welcome to My World!

2009-09-16T16:22:00.000-07:00

Great! You've found the website! That's step one, so I can assume that you're not one of the moronic few, wandering about the Earth's surface contributing to stress-related illness. Thank you for that.

Well, this is a getting to know you session, right? You're getting to know me, and I'm doing the same. Since I don't know you yet, the responsibility is all on me. So here it goes:

I'm a Gemini.

I'm really into zombies and think they would make the world a happier place. I also think that sex with a zombie is NOT necrophilia, but sex with a vampire is. Geeks, talk amongst yourself.

I think George Lucas should just stop.

I hate reality TV and think it's going to ruin society (random exception: "Who Wants to Be a Superhero", 'cause that shit's just funny).

I can tell you the stormtrooper number that Han Solo took over in Episode 4.

I'm an author of bizarro fiction, new book upcoming.

I'm a HUGE dork - see points 3 and 5.

I'll kick your ass at Trivial Pursuit.

I'm not above begging for you to buy my books. Please buy them, but go one step beyond - recommend them, start a bookclub and make your members purchase them, write to me and tell me how much you loved them, and finally, they make lovely holiday gifts.

I have a thing for jackalopes.

Okay, so that's a little about me. What about you? You definitely are on the verge of something awesome. Me, of course. Talk to me. Tell me what you want from this web presence.