Inside Frodo’s house

Frodo Kirk: We… MUST… getthisringtoMountDoom.

Spockwise: That is only logical, Master.

Scotdalf: Aye! Ye should proceed with me, I’ll show ye the way!

Further along the path to Mount Doom

Smeagol Khan: We hateses the Kirks. We hateses hims!

Back along the long and winding road

Frodo Kirk: Each… step… islikedestiny… that BEFALLS us.

Spockwise: That makes little sense. Still. I would enjoy fawning over you some more.

Sulugas: Oh, just come on!

Chekli: Da!

Uhuragorn: Follow me! Scotdalf and I shall lead you away to safety!

The group is beset by evil creatures

Sulugas: This is the way to safety?

Frodo Kirk: Klingwraith bastards! You killed my Uncle!

Scotdalf: … no they didn’t.

Frodo Kirk: These Klingwraith BASTARDS! They… what?

Scotdalf: Aye, laddie. Your uncle is safe in the Nuetral Zone.

Frodo Kirk: Oh… well… stillwemust… defeat them.

Scotdalf: Aye! Saint’s and Begorrah!

Klingwraiths burst into flames and die

Scotdalf: They won’t push us anymorrrrrrrre.

Later, near the end of thisjokethe journey

Smeagol Khan: We havesses the rings!

Frodo Kirk: KKKKKKKKHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNN!

And even later… oin Mount Doom, after Kirk took us through 17 long speeches and got the ring back…

Frodo Kirk: You… can’t WIN, Sauron!

Sauron: glows evilly

Frodo Kirk: It’s like the elvish ritual of… Kobayashi Maru… you can… not… hope to… WIN!

Sauron: glows evilly

Frodo Kirk: You… have an allure…

Sauron: glows evilly

Kirk and Sauron make out

Frodo Kirk: So now you’ve… seen… the ERRORSofyourways?

Sauron: glows evilly

Frodo Kirk: no! Don’t…. kill… yourself!

Sauron: glows evilly

Scotdalf: Laddie, this is disgusting and wrong. Also, ye’re talking to yeself. Cin we go now?

Frodo Kirk: First mountain to the left and straight on till…

Spockwise: *Hobbit Neck Pinch* Shall we leave?

Sulugas: About time!

Chekli: Da!

Uhuragorn: Fucking finally.

Go back a post for more about Strange Angel, or use the menu bar to the right to go to the Strange Angel page. Anyway, clicking on the cover will take you to where you can pre-order the book from Shocklines.com

But I would be remiss if I did not also mention the first novel by a good friend of mine:

Sweat is the brainchild of Laszlo Xalieri. I remember when he wrote it and I enjoyed the hell out of it then. This version is even fucking cooler. From the back of the book:
Have you ever suspected that God hates you? What if you knew it for sure?

Lin’s small rural family is between a rock and a hard place under normal circumstances. Now she and her loved ones face obliteration at the hands of a once-human monster and the seemingly supernatural forces that hound him to destruction. Can she weather the storm?

“Sweat crawls under your skin and imparts the heat of disease into your mind, the fever dream of the darker moments of humanity. This is the type of tale you don’t walk away from unchanged. Xalieri shines with the power of a rising star. He’s good enough I might have to kill him just to be able to compete.” -–Adam P. Knave, author of Crazy Little Thing and Strange Angel

174 pages, from Die Monster Die! Again, click the cover above to order.

A sample chapter of Book One for you. I have been ordered to disseminate as I choose so enjoy the .pdf

From the PR dept (i.e. I didn’t write this):

Strange Angel 1: Genesis” is the first in a series of three novellas by Adam P. Knave, author of “Crazy Little Thing,” the “Mr. Binkles” stories for Cthulhu Sex Magazine, and columnist at TwoHeadedCat.com. “Strange Angel” is filled with the things that make fiction worth reading: humor, drama, unprovoked attacks on established major religions, demonic possession, brutal, escalating violence, and nihilistic black humor.

At the peril of making “Strange Angel” sound like a comic book character, she made her first appearance in “Dark Furies: Weird Tales of Beauties & Beasts.”

From the back cover:

Susie Sparrow has had a few bad months. She’s failing History, been violently attacked by people from her school, annoyed by her brother, discovered her dog is sick, killed a handful of people, gotten sick of her parents going vegetarian, and possessed by an immortal spirit of vengeance and justice. The last few months were simple. In the days ahead Susie’s life is going to get far, far worse. Lucky for her she has big flaming wings to help her deal.

“Move over Joss Whedon! With Strange Angel Adam P. Knave delivers a spellbinding mix of raw-edged pulp and comic book heroics bristling with wit and surprises that bring a whole new twist to female supernatural avengers and the timeless battle between good and evil.” –James Chambers, author of “The Midnight Hour”

“”Talk about hot teen action! In Strange Angel, Knave tortures and kills the acne-ridden like nobody else in the business. Into his foul-mouthed heroine he swirls uncertainty, frustration, anger, and an unmatched capacity for violence— all with consequences refreshingly lacking in the sugar-coatings frequently found in popular media. Sit back and watch Knave use his tools. He switches from ax to scalpel and back again without warning. You will enjoy every stroke— though you may find yourself a little queasy in the region of your soul if you think about why you do…”” –Laszlo Xalieri, author of “Sweat”

So last night, Ed and I were coming back to my place to watch a movie. We were, as usual, on the 1 train, chatting as we went.

All very normal.

He was sitting and I was standing facing him, this is important you see. Because as we pulled out of a station I noticed this homeless guy on the platform across from us. Behind Ed’s head, so that Ed couldn’t see him. And as I noticed this guy, because he was pulling down he pants, he turned towards the train, full on, grabbed his engorged cock and started to masturbate furiously at the leaving train.

Then suddenly the tunnel washed out the scene and it was all dark and normal.

“Did I just…” I asked Ed as I turned to try and verify what I had just seen.

“Huh?”

“Homeless guy, jerking off at the train.”

“He must like trains.”

And that’s about as much as it impacted our day. Because sometimes people masturbate on train platforms with vigor. Sometimes you see clowns. On the bad days the clowns are the ones with their pants down.

It’s my busy season sadly so some of the funny goes slower. Just the way it is. I mean right now I’m:

* Writing a biweekly column for TwoHeadedCat.com

* Writing a weekly cartoon for the same site.

* Writing a monthly (though maybe more often than that soon) column at The Footnote.

* Working on Strange Angel parts 2 and 3. Both are 30-odd thousand word novellas. The first comes out in about a month (more about that soon I’m sure) but 2 and 3 have to be finished.

* I have some news about a short story that I can’t share yet. I am sworn to silence.

* There are two anthologies that have asked me to write for them, but I am waiting on details.

* I have to do the 3rd Mr. Binkles story (it’s been requested by an editor)

… and so on. That on top of normal life and Con Season and suddenly I’m a bit swamped. But I got a post out of it, didn’t I?

New issue of Just the Right Bullets is up at The Footnote today. Click the graphic to go there.

Hi there. I’m international superstar David Hasslehoff and this is Gary Coleman, who hasn’t done anything of note recently.

Yo, what the fuck is that about, Hasslehoff? Why do you gotta start this off by insulting me?

Hey, it’s true. You ran for Govenor of CA and lost…

Like you would’ve won?

I could be the President of Germany, bitch.

What ‘chu talkin’ ’bout, Hoff?

They love the Hoff in Germantown. Ja.

Nice. So what, they get you a gold talking car?

Oh, don’t diss the ride. Do not diss the ride, short round.

You… just… you did not!

The Hoff dares all.

You’re dead, fucker!

You and what stepladder?

We’re sorry folks, but it seems that Coleman and Hoff can’t take over for the guys who really run this show. Right, Bill?

Right you are, Feldman.

Anyway, how ya been, Shat?

Damn good, Feldman. And yourself?

Smokin’, baby. I’m fucking smokin’!

Sweet, dawg. Let’s bounce.

Peace out.

So soon I’m gonna be doing interviews for a web site. A car web site. No lie.

Now I don’t want to name it here, because until it starts it doesn’t exist but even with that thought I need to talk about this a second.

I love doing interviews and I’ll be interviewing models. Car models. I know a few models and have known a bunch more and they aren’t stupid people, a lot of the time, so I don’t want to fall into the stupid fluff interview hole. And yet I want to have fun.

As a result these will, hopefully, be slightly silly and slightly serious with a good fun mix of the two. Gettingin to their heads some and still asking for their mesurements. You know how it is.

Of course… I’m the only guy that gets to interview hot models - over e-mail. Not in person. I don’t even get to meet these women.

Only me.

(Just for some background here… I was over at Rose Fox’s place and she said “Dear Internets…” and it broke something loose in my brain. Why don’t they have Google Letters, like Penthouse Letters, geek porn letters, basically and well here I am. The first letter also has credit with Rose Fox since she said it first.)

Dear Google,

Tonight I logged onto the Internet without protection. I turned off all scanning: shut down my virus protection, turned off Ad-Aware and flicked Windows Firewall off with a sigh. I had never done anything like that before.

It was so freeing.

I had never felt the Internet around me so purely, untainted and unrestricted. Every url slammed into my browser fast, ActiveX scripts running free all over my hard… spinning… drives. I gasped as my pages faulted and found my hand curled against my neck when an ad popped up on it’s own.

Was it illicit and dangerous? Maybe. Was it freeing and mind-blowing? Oh Gods, yes.

Dear Google,

Just the other night I ordered groceries on-line. I’d done it before, of course, who hasn’t, but this time ended up quite differently. First it was all normal. I put in my order and hit purchase. My credit card worked fine and I got an email confirmation.

But then.

I got mail from Customer Support saying they needed to inspect my order again. I mailed the guy back and we chatted a while, I was just trying to work out what was wrong. He asked for my AIM SN to talk to me off company time, saying he could explain what happened faster that way. I said “Sure”, because what could be the problem, right?

Well it wasn’t long before he stopped telling me about my order and started asking me what I was wearing. I was shocked, but I admit I was also intrigued. He sounded cute. Soon enough… well, I won’t make you blush, Google, but it took me a while to remember how to type with only one hand, and I had to find more batteries.

Proofs received for Strange Angel part one: Genesis. Now I hole up in a bar for the next few nights and line this mo-fo. Then printing, then selling, then partying. Not necessarily in that order.

I love this stage. I’ve written this thing, spent nights toiling away at it, and now I can print it out and see exactly how it’ll look when it gets fully finished. It adds a layer of real to the proceedings that I haven’t gotten used to yet and I kinda hope I never do.

Anyway - off to line.