Stephen Kozeniewski's Blog, page 28
October 1, 2018
The Most Horrific Wedding You'll Ever Attend (Redirect)
Hey All!
As a Very Important Writer™ I only have so much time in the day, and I already wrote a blogpost today, so go check it out over at my group blog, Across the Board!
As a Very Important Writer™ I only have so much time in the day, and I already wrote a blogpost today, so go check it out over at my group blog, Across the Board!
September 26, 2018
Enter to Win an Autographed Copy of PRESSURE by Brian Keene
While I am famously the only person in the world who owns a copy of PRESSURE by Brian Keene signed by Jeff Strand and a copy of PRESSURE by Jeff Strand signed by Brian Keene, you, yes, you, my friend, could win something of a consolation prize if you jump in to the contest below in the next few days. Enjoy!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
a Rafflecopter giveaway
September 24, 2018
BILLY AND THE CLONEASAURUS $0.99 sale
Hey everybody! For the next week only, BILLY AND THE CLONEASAURUS will be on sale across all platforms for only $0.99. That means you can pick it up via Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, Google Play, and iTunes. If you haven't grabbed a copy yet, now is the perfect time!
Six billion identical clones make up the entire population of Earth, and William 790-6 (57th Iteration) is exactly like everybody else. In his one year of life he will toil in suburban mediocrity and spend as much cash as possible in order to please his corporate masters. When 790’s first birthday (and scheduled execution) finally rolls around, a freak accident spares his life.
Living past his expiration date changes 790 profoundly. Unlike other clones he becomes capable of questioning the futility of his own existence. Seeking answers in the wilderness, he discovers a windmill with some very strange occupants, including a freakish, dinosaur-like monstrosity. Which is especially strange since every animal on earth is supposed to be extinct…
Dark, haunting, and blisteringly satirical, BILLY AND THE CLONEASAURUS is the story of one “man’s” attempt to finally become an individual in a world of copies.
September 21, 2018
French Press Paperbacks For Sale (And Severed Press Remainders, Too!)
Hey everybody! I just ordered my first batch of the Authors Preferred Editions of BILLY AND THE CLONEASAURUS and THE GHOUL ARCHIPELAGO. Contributor copies have been distributed, which means I am now open to start selling these at conventions and book signings.
But, of course, as a follower of this fine web log, you get the first crack at everything Kozeniewski-related, and this development is no exception. Remember, if you'd like to order an autographed copy of these (or any of my books, really) just reach out to me.
In addition to the two French Press titles, I should probably also point out that my supplies of the original Severed Press paperbacks are dwindling. I have about ten or fifteen of each, and as they are no longer being produced, when they're gone they're gone. Unless you've bought a paperback in the past, as far as I know I'm in possession of the last copies in the world. And they could be yours!
September 19, 2018
2018 Gross-Out Contest Reading Live!
Hey everybody! I've got a rare treat for you (and a first for me) coming up this week. If you've never seen me do a live reading this is your chance. This Saturday, September 22, at 10:00 pm EST I'll be reading my award-winning entry in the 2018 Deadite Press Gross-Out Contest, "Everybody Poops. Especially Godzilla."
It's going to be live on Facebook, so you can watch from anywhere in the world! All you have to do is join The Splatter Club on Facebook and tune in at 10. I'm sure I'll also be taking a Q&A and whatever else you guys feel like hearing from me. Hope to see you there!
September 5, 2018
A Wife Beater's Guide to the Apocalypse
Hey, everybody! So I just finished reading THE NIGHT LAND by William Hope Hodgson. Now, I recently read THE HOUSE ON THE BORDERLAND, and that was a little old-fashioned, but overall pretty tight. So I was pretty excited to read Hodgson's magnum opus. Early twentieth century apocalyptic fiction from the man who Lovecraft looked up to? Got to be pretty good, right? Well, let me see if I can recreate the experience for you and you can decide for yourself.
THE NIGHT LAND: A WIFE BEATER'S GUIDE TO THE APOCALYPSEby William Hope Hodgson as understood by Stephen Kozeniewski
And, lo, did it did be that I was in the 18th century briefly for a framing story, but, verily, that framing story was abandoned quickly and never revisited.
And, lo, did it did be, that in the far flung future of some supernal age that there did rise from the ground a great pyramid. And it did be that the pyramid did be full of millions upon millions of people, and these did be the last of the people.
And, lo, did it did be, verily, that, truth be told, and in sooth, that it did be that there was no sun and that the land did be populated by monsters. Verily, though, did it be that those monsters were all quite dull, and fighting them did always consist of the exact same thing, which did be that I did have a hand weapon, and it did be with this hand weapon that verily I did slay many a monster, which might a humpback or a giant slug, but never of any particular interest or apparent danger.
And, lo, did it did be that there was another, lesser pyramid, which often did be referred to as "the lesser pyramid." And upon that pyramid did dwell my love, who I sort of knew the 18th century, but I guess it did be that we did be reincarnated or some such, but it also did be that it did be that it did not bare a terrible great amount of relevance upon the plot.
And, lo, did it did be that I left the pyramid, and though, verily, the term "Mary Sue," though, lo, it did not be invented yet, yet still, all the millions of the greater pyramid did be totally stoked on me and admired me just for my pure ballsiness in leaving yon Great Redoubt.
And, lo, did it did be that after monotonously fighting many monsters, whether they be humpbacks or slugs, all inspiring the exact same amount of total lack of what did be dread in me, I did come upon my fair maid, who, lo, though she yet did have a name, I constantly did call "a maid" or "mine own."
And, lo, did it did be that mine own and I did quaff of powdered water and precisely two food pills. Then, it being the eighth hour, we did quaff upon another quaff of powdered water, and then this time it did be one and one halves food pills. And, lo, it being now seven days hence and upon the sixteenth hour, did we now quaff upon powdered water and three each of food pills.
And, lo, did it did be that mine own maid did have the gall to speak to me while looking in mine eyes. And thus did I did cut a great switch from a tree and thus did I verily beat the ever-living shit out of her, but also did I feel bad, for I do be the hero of this story, and all the many millions of the great pyramid are super stoked on me and do be totally watching me from afar and do be rooting for me heartily.
And, lo, did it did be that it, being the eighteenth hour, we did quaff upon powdered water and precisely three pills apiece this time. And now I shall abridge the rest of the pill-eating and water quaffing, for brevity's sake. Oh, but also at the third hour did we quaff upon powdered water and then exactly one pill, the Night Land being terrible hard to live in and populated with dull, dull monsters.
And, lo, did it did be that just as we were sliding into home plate, did she did die, and thus, could I no longer beat her with switches, and no longer could feel sort of bad about, but also insist that beating maids with switches is really the only way to communicate with such creatures. (It seems a shame almost, that I did never bother to try to beat any of the slugs or humpbacked men with switches, being as it do be the best way to communicate with such alien minds.)
And, lo, did it did be that she was alive again, for no reason. And thus did everyone in the Great Pyramid totally cheer and build of me a statue, and just generally be unreasonably stoked on me. (Please see Appendix A for a complete chart of pill-eating and powdered water quaffing rates.)
FIN
THE NIGHT LAND: A WIFE BEATER'S GUIDE TO THE APOCALYPSEby William Hope Hodgson as understood by Stephen Kozeniewski
And, lo, did it did be that I was in the 18th century briefly for a framing story, but, verily, that framing story was abandoned quickly and never revisited.
And, lo, did it did be, that in the far flung future of some supernal age that there did rise from the ground a great pyramid. And it did be that the pyramid did be full of millions upon millions of people, and these did be the last of the people.
And, lo, did it did be, verily, that, truth be told, and in sooth, that it did be that there was no sun and that the land did be populated by monsters. Verily, though, did it be that those monsters were all quite dull, and fighting them did always consist of the exact same thing, which did be that I did have a hand weapon, and it did be with this hand weapon that verily I did slay many a monster, which might a humpback or a giant slug, but never of any particular interest or apparent danger.
And, lo, did it did be that there was another, lesser pyramid, which often did be referred to as "the lesser pyramid." And upon that pyramid did dwell my love, who I sort of knew the 18th century, but I guess it did be that we did be reincarnated or some such, but it also did be that it did be that it did not bare a terrible great amount of relevance upon the plot.
And, lo, did it did be that I left the pyramid, and though, verily, the term "Mary Sue," though, lo, it did not be invented yet, yet still, all the millions of the greater pyramid did be totally stoked on me and admired me just for my pure ballsiness in leaving yon Great Redoubt.
And, lo, did it did be that after monotonously fighting many monsters, whether they be humpbacks or slugs, all inspiring the exact same amount of total lack of what did be dread in me, I did come upon my fair maid, who, lo, though she yet did have a name, I constantly did call "a maid" or "mine own."
And, lo, did it did be that mine own and I did quaff of powdered water and precisely two food pills. Then, it being the eighth hour, we did quaff upon another quaff of powdered water, and then this time it did be one and one halves food pills. And, lo, it being now seven days hence and upon the sixteenth hour, did we now quaff upon powdered water and three each of food pills.
And, lo, did it did be that mine own maid did have the gall to speak to me while looking in mine eyes. And thus did I did cut a great switch from a tree and thus did I verily beat the ever-living shit out of her, but also did I feel bad, for I do be the hero of this story, and all the many millions of the great pyramid are super stoked on me and do be totally watching me from afar and do be rooting for me heartily.
And, lo, did it did be that it, being the eighteenth hour, we did quaff upon powdered water and precisely three pills apiece this time. And now I shall abridge the rest of the pill-eating and water quaffing, for brevity's sake. Oh, but also at the third hour did we quaff upon powdered water and then exactly one pill, the Night Land being terrible hard to live in and populated with dull, dull monsters.
And, lo, did it did be that just as we were sliding into home plate, did she did die, and thus, could I no longer beat her with switches, and no longer could feel sort of bad about, but also insist that beating maids with switches is really the only way to communicate with such creatures. (It seems a shame almost, that I did never bother to try to beat any of the slugs or humpbacked men with switches, being as it do be the best way to communicate with such alien minds.)
And, lo, did it did be that she was alive again, for no reason. And thus did everyone in the Great Pyramid totally cheer and build of me a statue, and just generally be unreasonably stoked on me. (Please see Appendix A for a complete chart of pill-eating and powdered water quaffing rates.)
FIN
September 3, 2018
Protean Books or Bust!
Hey, everybody! Happy Labor Day! While you're hopefully twistin' by the pool, I've got an event announcement for this weekend, so start thinking about whether you'll be able to make it.
If you're going to be in the Baltimore, MD area this weekend you should definitely stop by Protean Books on Saturday, September 8. I'll be signing along with horror luminaries Brian Keene, Mary SanGiovanni, and Wesley Southard. I'll be selling books for $12 apiece and I'll be happy to sign any you bring from home free of charge. We are asking that you buy a little something from the bookstore for hosting us - a cup of coffee would be fine. That's the kind of walk-in business they're counting on to make it worthwhile to invite us in the future.
The address is:
Protean Books & Records836 Leadenhall St, Baltimore
Maryland 21230
And we'll be there from noon to 3:00 pm. Hope to see you there!
If you're going to be in the Baltimore, MD area this weekend you should definitely stop by Protean Books on Saturday, September 8. I'll be signing along with horror luminaries Brian Keene, Mary SanGiovanni, and Wesley Southard. I'll be selling books for $12 apiece and I'll be happy to sign any you bring from home free of charge. We are asking that you buy a little something from the bookstore for hosting us - a cup of coffee would be fine. That's the kind of walk-in business they're counting on to make it worthwhile to invite us in the future.
The address is:
Protean Books & Records836 Leadenhall St, Baltimore
Maryland 21230
And we'll be there from noon to 3:00 pm. Hope to see you there!
August 31, 2018
Re-Animated #19: The Venture Brothers
"We're the Venture Brothers!"
So sayeth Jonas Venture, Jr. to his brother Rusty in the season 2 premiere of today's entry.
It was a weird, goofy "fuck you" to the audience. But it also wasn't that. It was also an artistic choice that suggested this offbeat cartoon, which had originated as nothing more than a violent "Jonny Quest" ripoff was going to have stakes. That it could change. That it was a cartoon that wasn't just a cartoon.
And change it has. Mutated. Evolved. And taken bold choices. Too many bold choices, perhaps. But let's take a step back.
My earliest memory of "The Venture Brothers" was watching the pilot in a hotel room in Texas when I was in the army. It was the second time the pilot had shown, alongside a few, stranger [adult swim] entries like "Penguins Behind Bars." So why do I remember the second time better?
Well, back in those days [adult swim] was putting a lot more pilots on the air, presumably because they didn't have nearly as much content and, having commissioned a pilot, even if it never went to series, the result was likely still weird enough to warrant trying to get their money back with a showing. One winter the absolutely unwatchable "Boo Boo Runs Wild" ran like clockwork every night at 12:30. It was the only time of the evening I turned [adult swim] off.
One day I may do an entry on some of the [adult swim] pilots. But suffice it to say that "The Terrible Secret of Turtle Bay" at first seemed like that. It was a bit of a one-joke premise. Dr. Venture is like Benton Quest, except he doesn't give a shit about his kids. Hank and Dean are as eager and chipper as Jonny and Hadji but they live in a real world of strippers and muggings. And Brock Samson is as dedicated a bodyguard as Race Bannon, but an ultraviolent lunatic. Oh, and the accidental homoeroticism of Race and Benton was made all but overt.
And that was about it. It was mildly clever, mildly amusing, and the animation was charming and hand-drawn (more on that in a moment) but otherwise the [adult swim] suits might have been forgiven for passing on this like any other "Korgoth of Barbaria" or "Cheyenne Cinnamon and the Fantabulous Unicorn of Sugar Town Candy Fudge."
Thankfully, though, they did send "The Venture Brothers" to series, and as I mentioned above, it evolved and evolved and evolved. Which brings us to the season 1 finale...when the ostensible main characters of the show, Hank and Dean, were killed at the very end. Cartoons are notably fond of the reset button, but not so "The Venture Brothers." In fact, they did a send up of the very notion of the reset button when it turned out that Hank and Dean were clones - fifteenth or sixteenth generation clones, in fact.
Which leads us back to the quote I mentioned in the opening. For the space of a single half hour "The Venture Brothers" hinted that it might be the sort of show to kill off its two teenage leads, and replace them with two middle aged brothers...er, one of which had been swallowed in utero and only recently escaped from his twin's body. It never went quite that far. But in subsequent seasons it never pulled back from marriages, breakups, deaths, and even, at the beginning of season 6, a completely new location. And because, as I mentioned above, each episode is loving hand-drawn in a retro style, fans can often go several years between seasons without having their cliffhanger itches scratched. Thus, while "The Venture Brothers" is only now entering its seventh season, it's not officially been on the air longer than any other [adult swim] show, including the eleven-season former champ "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" - at fifteen and a half years.
Jesus Christ, I just depressed myself. How much of my life have I wasted on waiting for a cartoon?
What's notably interesting about the show being so long-running is that they completely preceded the Marvel fad before it overtook them. Imagine having a main character on the show be an obvious spoof of Doctor Strange in 2004. How many people would have even gotten the reference? Being a superhero show, the creators Jackson Publick and Doc Hammer leaned heavy into the Marvel deep cuts at a time when the idea of, say, Ant-Man becoming familiar to a mainstream audience was pretty out there. Now all the Marvel references are so embedded in their mythos it would be hard to extract any of them - and now they're no longer just for superfans.
Well, anyway, "The Venture Brothers" is delightful and kooky. Most of the time. As it's written by übernerds, it has a nerdy tendency to disappear into increasingly obscurer and obscurer pop culture references. If a particular reference doesn't resonate with you, you might be fine as it might be a throwaway line. It might also be a running joke through an excruciating, minutes-long debate between two characters (of particular guilt are albino Pete White and hydrocephalic "boy genius" Master Billy Quizboy.) So "YMMV" might be a general blanket warning for any given episode of the show.
And while I admire their bravery in most instances, there have, naturally, been a few misfires. Sergeant Hatred, a recurring (he's still in it, in fact) and unrepentant pedophile character, has raised more than a few hackles online.
The new season is currently airing (hence me once again running Re-Animated a bit out of order) but you're not going to be able to just jump right in. Trust me on this. You're going to want to go back to season 1, episode 1, hell, you'll even miss stuff if you don't go back to the pilot, and watch the whole thing through.
So sayeth Jonas Venture, Jr. to his brother Rusty in the season 2 premiere of today's entry.
It was a weird, goofy "fuck you" to the audience. But it also wasn't that. It was also an artistic choice that suggested this offbeat cartoon, which had originated as nothing more than a violent "Jonny Quest" ripoff was going to have stakes. That it could change. That it was a cartoon that wasn't just a cartoon.
And change it has. Mutated. Evolved. And taken bold choices. Too many bold choices, perhaps. But let's take a step back.
My earliest memory of "The Venture Brothers" was watching the pilot in a hotel room in Texas when I was in the army. It was the second time the pilot had shown, alongside a few, stranger [adult swim] entries like "Penguins Behind Bars." So why do I remember the second time better?
Well, back in those days [adult swim] was putting a lot more pilots on the air, presumably because they didn't have nearly as much content and, having commissioned a pilot, even if it never went to series, the result was likely still weird enough to warrant trying to get their money back with a showing. One winter the absolutely unwatchable "Boo Boo Runs Wild" ran like clockwork every night at 12:30. It was the only time of the evening I turned [adult swim] off.
One day I may do an entry on some of the [adult swim] pilots. But suffice it to say that "The Terrible Secret of Turtle Bay" at first seemed like that. It was a bit of a one-joke premise. Dr. Venture is like Benton Quest, except he doesn't give a shit about his kids. Hank and Dean are as eager and chipper as Jonny and Hadji but they live in a real world of strippers and muggings. And Brock Samson is as dedicated a bodyguard as Race Bannon, but an ultraviolent lunatic. Oh, and the accidental homoeroticism of Race and Benton was made all but overt.
And that was about it. It was mildly clever, mildly amusing, and the animation was charming and hand-drawn (more on that in a moment) but otherwise the [adult swim] suits might have been forgiven for passing on this like any other "Korgoth of Barbaria" or "Cheyenne Cinnamon and the Fantabulous Unicorn of Sugar Town Candy Fudge."
Thankfully, though, they did send "The Venture Brothers" to series, and as I mentioned above, it evolved and evolved and evolved. Which brings us to the season 1 finale...when the ostensible main characters of the show, Hank and Dean, were killed at the very end. Cartoons are notably fond of the reset button, but not so "The Venture Brothers." In fact, they did a send up of the very notion of the reset button when it turned out that Hank and Dean were clones - fifteenth or sixteenth generation clones, in fact.
Which leads us back to the quote I mentioned in the opening. For the space of a single half hour "The Venture Brothers" hinted that it might be the sort of show to kill off its two teenage leads, and replace them with two middle aged brothers...er, one of which had been swallowed in utero and only recently escaped from his twin's body. It never went quite that far. But in subsequent seasons it never pulled back from marriages, breakups, deaths, and even, at the beginning of season 6, a completely new location. And because, as I mentioned above, each episode is loving hand-drawn in a retro style, fans can often go several years between seasons without having their cliffhanger itches scratched. Thus, while "The Venture Brothers" is only now entering its seventh season, it's not officially been on the air longer than any other [adult swim] show, including the eleven-season former champ "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" - at fifteen and a half years.
Jesus Christ, I just depressed myself. How much of my life have I wasted on waiting for a cartoon?
What's notably interesting about the show being so long-running is that they completely preceded the Marvel fad before it overtook them. Imagine having a main character on the show be an obvious spoof of Doctor Strange in 2004. How many people would have even gotten the reference? Being a superhero show, the creators Jackson Publick and Doc Hammer leaned heavy into the Marvel deep cuts at a time when the idea of, say, Ant-Man becoming familiar to a mainstream audience was pretty out there. Now all the Marvel references are so embedded in their mythos it would be hard to extract any of them - and now they're no longer just for superfans.
Well, anyway, "The Venture Brothers" is delightful and kooky. Most of the time. As it's written by übernerds, it has a nerdy tendency to disappear into increasingly obscurer and obscurer pop culture references. If a particular reference doesn't resonate with you, you might be fine as it might be a throwaway line. It might also be a running joke through an excruciating, minutes-long debate between two characters (of particular guilt are albino Pete White and hydrocephalic "boy genius" Master Billy Quizboy.) So "YMMV" might be a general blanket warning for any given episode of the show.
And while I admire their bravery in most instances, there have, naturally, been a few misfires. Sergeant Hatred, a recurring (he's still in it, in fact) and unrepentant pedophile character, has raised more than a few hackles online.
The new season is currently airing (hence me once again running Re-Animated a bit out of order) but you're not going to be able to just jump right in. Trust me on this. You're going to want to go back to season 1, episode 1, hell, you'll even miss stuff if you don't go back to the pilot, and watch the whole thing through.
August 29, 2018
2018 KillerCon Deadite Press Gross-Out Contest: The Winning Entry
WARNING: The following short story contains graphic depictions of scat play and child abuse. It is not intended for minors or easily offended adults.
***As I mentioned in Monday's post I am now a back-to-back Gross-Out Contest winner! After winning the 2016 contest at the World Horror Convention in Provo, Utah with this piece, I managed to win again at KillerCon in Austin, Texas this past weekend. This year's contest was hosted by Deadite Press and the prize pack was rather handsome, including:
- 4 EC Comics
- "Magic Casket" by The Slow Poisoner CD
- "DC House of Horror" comic signed by Ed Lee, Brian Keene, Mary SanGiovanni, and Wrath James White
- SUNDANCING by Brian Keene
- Script of Brian Keene's "Ghoul"
- Flashing Mouth Light
- The Death Nut Challenge box of spicy peanuts
- A collection of "Dinosaurs Attack" trading cards
- An unopened blister pack of Garbage Pail Kids
- Two Garbage Pail Kids figurines
- A Buddy System pin (courtesy of Christine Morgan)
- Sex patches
- Cthulhu breath mints
and, perhaps most apropos of all:
- A Godzilla figurine
My thanks go out to the listeners, judges, other contestants, and, of course, the inimitable host Jeff Burk. Now, if you have a weak stomach or a sense of decency, read no further. You've been warned.***
“Everybody Poops. Especially Godzilla.”by Stephen Kozeniewski
A thick, cheesy brown fog rolled into town that morning. It seemed that Godzilla had been struck by another bad bout of diarrhea.
No one knows quite why Godzilla chooses to use our rustic town as his personal restroom, but I think it’s just our geography. We live in a perfectly concave valley, almost a crater, surrounded by mountains. Basically our small town is shaped exactly like a kaiju’s toilet bowl and now Godzilla’s various bodily excretions have become an integral part of our weather patterns.
I actually don’t mind days like today, when we get a little splash of Godzilla’s colon gravy. Sometimes my seven-year-old daughter Sophie and I will sit on the deck in our rain slickers, sipping tea, watching the dogs chase each other out on the lawn, turning their coats brown. Sometimes I joke that we have yellow labs most of the time, but chocolate labs on Taco Tuesdays. But, no, the diarrhea fog is not nearly as bad as the constipation.
Now I suppose a fancy city doctor might claim the fix for constipation is a spoonful of Metamucil, but out here in the country we know the simple ways are still the best: all you have to do is jam your thumb up in there and wiggle it around, removing each of those little Dippin Dots one at a time.
So, ‘round these parts, instead of filling up the water tower with laxatives and trying to convince Godzilla to drink, we just pay the local kids nickels to coat themselves in Vaseline, shimmy up Godzilla’s leg, and act as his thumb in the asshole, if you know what I mean.
For a while our best asshole spelunker was the epileptic kid who lives over on 7th, Timmy Mason. You can imagine what a natural advantage he had shaking those bowel movement loose, what with those fits of his. But then one day Timmy didn’t come back. Well, the truth is, he did come back, we were just never able to get him out of that giant, calcified lizard shit. We jackhammered at it for days, but had to give up. They had an empty casket at his wake, but to this day once a week like clockwork Mrs. Mason leaves a little bouquet of flowers at the foot of that big old log jam where her son still rests.
Anyhoo, that’s why I stopped letting Sophie be a browneye girl for nickels. Oh, don’t make that noise. I still let her have fun. Why, I remember just last May Sophie came tear-assing out of the house, crying “no school tomorrow, no school tomorrow, there’ll no be no school tomorrow ‘cause of jizz!” And, sure enough a glistening white goo coated the land. I mean, Godzilla’s still a man, you know. Before I knew it, Sophie was out in the yard making cum angels on the lawn and trying to catch falling sperm on the tip of her tongue. We even got into a jizzball fight. That little rascal hit me right in the eye. And at the end of day we built a little man with a corncob pipe and a button nose out of chunky globs of radioactive lizard semen.
Lately, though, it seems that Godzilla’s not the only kaiju who’s been getting in on the action. I thought I’d seen everything in this town, but last week when I went to go fill my swimming pool for the season, I saw that somebody had beaten me to it. Instead of water and chlorine my pool was full of thick, clotting menstrual blood. But I’ll tell you more about that in my next reading “Are you there, Godzilla? It’s me, Mothra.”
FIN
***As I mentioned in Monday's post I am now a back-to-back Gross-Out Contest winner! After winning the 2016 contest at the World Horror Convention in Provo, Utah with this piece, I managed to win again at KillerCon in Austin, Texas this past weekend. This year's contest was hosted by Deadite Press and the prize pack was rather handsome, including:
- 4 EC Comics
- "Magic Casket" by The Slow Poisoner CD
- "DC House of Horror" comic signed by Ed Lee, Brian Keene, Mary SanGiovanni, and Wrath James White
- SUNDANCING by Brian Keene
- Script of Brian Keene's "Ghoul"
- Flashing Mouth Light
- The Death Nut Challenge box of spicy peanuts
- A collection of "Dinosaurs Attack" trading cards
- An unopened blister pack of Garbage Pail Kids
- Two Garbage Pail Kids figurines
- A Buddy System pin (courtesy of Christine Morgan)
- Sex patches
- Cthulhu breath mints
and, perhaps most apropos of all:
- A Godzilla figurine
My thanks go out to the listeners, judges, other contestants, and, of course, the inimitable host Jeff Burk. Now, if you have a weak stomach or a sense of decency, read no further. You've been warned.***
“Everybody Poops. Especially Godzilla.”by Stephen Kozeniewski
A thick, cheesy brown fog rolled into town that morning. It seemed that Godzilla had been struck by another bad bout of diarrhea.
No one knows quite why Godzilla chooses to use our rustic town as his personal restroom, but I think it’s just our geography. We live in a perfectly concave valley, almost a crater, surrounded by mountains. Basically our small town is shaped exactly like a kaiju’s toilet bowl and now Godzilla’s various bodily excretions have become an integral part of our weather patterns.
I actually don’t mind days like today, when we get a little splash of Godzilla’s colon gravy. Sometimes my seven-year-old daughter Sophie and I will sit on the deck in our rain slickers, sipping tea, watching the dogs chase each other out on the lawn, turning their coats brown. Sometimes I joke that we have yellow labs most of the time, but chocolate labs on Taco Tuesdays. But, no, the diarrhea fog is not nearly as bad as the constipation.
Now I suppose a fancy city doctor might claim the fix for constipation is a spoonful of Metamucil, but out here in the country we know the simple ways are still the best: all you have to do is jam your thumb up in there and wiggle it around, removing each of those little Dippin Dots one at a time.
So, ‘round these parts, instead of filling up the water tower with laxatives and trying to convince Godzilla to drink, we just pay the local kids nickels to coat themselves in Vaseline, shimmy up Godzilla’s leg, and act as his thumb in the asshole, if you know what I mean.
For a while our best asshole spelunker was the epileptic kid who lives over on 7th, Timmy Mason. You can imagine what a natural advantage he had shaking those bowel movement loose, what with those fits of his. But then one day Timmy didn’t come back. Well, the truth is, he did come back, we were just never able to get him out of that giant, calcified lizard shit. We jackhammered at it for days, but had to give up. They had an empty casket at his wake, but to this day once a week like clockwork Mrs. Mason leaves a little bouquet of flowers at the foot of that big old log jam where her son still rests.
Anyhoo, that’s why I stopped letting Sophie be a browneye girl for nickels. Oh, don’t make that noise. I still let her have fun. Why, I remember just last May Sophie came tear-assing out of the house, crying “no school tomorrow, no school tomorrow, there’ll no be no school tomorrow ‘cause of jizz!” And, sure enough a glistening white goo coated the land. I mean, Godzilla’s still a man, you know. Before I knew it, Sophie was out in the yard making cum angels on the lawn and trying to catch falling sperm on the tip of her tongue. We even got into a jizzball fight. That little rascal hit me right in the eye. And at the end of day we built a little man with a corncob pipe and a button nose out of chunky globs of radioactive lizard semen.
Lately, though, it seems that Godzilla’s not the only kaiju who’s been getting in on the action. I thought I’d seen everything in this town, but last week when I went to go fill my swimming pool for the season, I saw that somebody had beaten me to it. Instead of water and chlorine my pool was full of thick, clotting menstrual blood. But I’ll tell you more about that in my next reading “Are you there, Godzilla? It’s me, Mothra.”
FIN
August 27, 2018
KillerCon Austin 2018 Autopsy
Howdy, y'all!
I just got back from Austin, TX, and boy are my arms tired.
Sorry, I know I'm destroying you all with my groundbreaking comedy, but I'm just so giddy after the weekend I just had. As you know from reading my blog (you do read my blog, right - well, I guess that's a bit of a non sequitur since you're certainly reading it now) I spent last weekend at the resurrected KillerCon.
I'm going to talk a little bit about the convention now but I want to preface this piece by saying that I met and hung out with a lot of really cool people at this convention. So many, in fact, that this could easily just turn into a list of cool people, which will be terribly boring for the average reader. So I'm going to try to refrain from naming names as much as possible to keep this blogpost somewhat manageable. If I don't mention you, it's not because I dislike or forgot about you.
My girlfriend and I started out on Friday morning with a scare as we nearly didn't make it onto our flight from Harrisburg to Washington, D.C. Security at MDT that day decided that we both needed to be frisked and have our bags searched for some reason, and lines were long considering it was a 6:00 am flight. But we did make it to the venue after that with relatively little issue. And a good thing, too, because my first panel was at 1:00 pm local time.
My first (and, come to think of it, only) panel was "What the Hell?" about mythology in horror. I was the moderator and Wrath James White (also the founder and runner of KillerCon) was on it, as well as Brian Asman, who I met for the first time. Brian specified that he was not the famous balloon artist Brian Asman, but just some other Brian Asman, which was particularly hilarious because my girlfriend actually is a balloon artist. So now I suppose we'll be looking up Brian Asman videos, but not the guy we both know from the con.
The person who was not there was Gabino Iglesias, who you may also know as a contributor to my group blog. However, a few hours later I did finally get to meet Gabino.
My girlfriend and I spent that evening at the hotel bar, which was where I met so many people that it caused me to write that preface up there. We laughed and talked well into the evening and had a delightful time.
The next morning we had to get up early because there was a mass signing at 10:00 am. I was a bit unsure what to do for this convention. Normally I drive to conventions so when I don't have a table I tend to bring a trunk full of books, then carry around five or ten in my backpack, and replace them as necessary. When I have a table, I usually just bring all the boxes in.
So this time I was flying in and I figured I would bring about ten books total and just sell out when I sold out. Or not. Whatever.
So I sat down at the mass signing and within 45 minutes I had sold out of all my books and taken selfies with several fans. Genuine fans. My girlfriend was incredibly impressed.
At 3:00 pm, Brian Keene invited me and John Wayne Comunale to do mini-readings during his reading to help fill up the hour. I did "This Reading is Going to Suck," my new go-to. John Wayne did an amazing rendition from his new work SCUMMER. Let me tell you, this is an author to watch, folks. His prose is strong, his story was fascinating, and his delivery was on point. Brian finished up with a couple of killer pieces that gave me some ideas for audience interactivity in the future.
At 8:00 pm came the centerpiece of the event: The Splatterpunk Awards. I was nominated for one for best novel for THE HEMATOPHAGES. The award ended up going to WHITE TRASH GOTHIC by Edward Lee, the towering godfather of the genre, thus righting a wrong for someone who has not received an award for his work in 35 years of writing the most extreme horror in the field.
So, I was a little bit disappointed. A lot of people asked me throughout the day if I was nervous, but the truth is I wasn't. That's not some kind of "too cool for school" attitude. I just wasn't terribly. If I won, I knew what I wanted to say and who I wanted to thank. But if I didn't win, it wasn't the end of the world. The way I see it, if I've been nominated for an industry award after just five years of publishing, I must be doing all right. If it takes me another thirty years to win, then I'll be doing exactly as well as the master of extreme horror, right?
So, all in all, I felt a slight pinch when my name wasn't announced, but no worse than giving blood. Besides, I figured I'd have a second chance to win an industry award that night when I entered the Deadite Press Gross-Out Contest. Now, those of you who read my blog (you do read my blog, don't you?) know that I won the 2016 Gross-Out Contest at the last World Horror Convention. I was a bit worried about entering this year as well. 2016 was a blast, and legends like Jeff Strand and Jack Ketchum entered, and my drunken, wide-eyed acceptance speech will always be one of my greatest memories.
But at KillerCon I was facing down a veritable bevy of bizarros. Now, what you have to know about bizarro authors is that they take a different attitude towards readings than us straight horror types. Bizarro readings are more like performance art, and often feature props, dadaism, audience participation, and skits. In a circumstance like the Gross-Out Contest, all of those things are strong advantages.
However, I don't wear those sorts of things well. I'm happy to do a little bit of pantomime, but for the most part I just worry about writing a really good, targeted piece and performing it well. This year's entry was "Everybody Poops. Especially Godzilla." (Which, if you're very good little boys and girls, I'll share with you on Wednesday.)
As the contest started, all my fears were realized. A couple of horror authors presented some strong entries, and the bizarros were even stronger. Then Michael Allen Rose began reading a gut-busting novelization of "Two Girls, One Cup," culminating in him pulling our old friend John Wayne Comunale on stage and both feeding each other Snickers bars. I was sure I was toast.
There was nothing for it but sheer, true grit. (Yeah, you thought I wouldn't pull that one out, didn't you, John Wayne?) So I dug down deep and gave my best rendition ever. And it tore the house down. Still, I was pretty sure I was just going to get second place. But I won!
Making me a two-time Gross-Out Contest winner! The winner and still champion!
But wait! There's more!
Immediately after the contest, Deadite Press hosted a party. I got to have a long, great conversation with Bev Vincent, however I think he was much more charmed by my girlfriend than me. However, both accused me of making their drinks too strong. So I guess I got Bev drunk.
Then I finally got to tick something off my bucket list. I met Carlton Mellick III!
I'm pretty sure I made a complete ass of myself, so this will probably be the last picture I get with him, but I'm still gobsmacked it happened. I got to tell him how much "Lemon Knives and Cockroaches" influenced me (check out THE GHOUL ARCHIPELAGO if you don't believe me.)
We had to head out pretty early Sunday morning to make it home. But all in all, KillerCon was an amazing time, intimate and large and definitely an event not to miss. Hope to see you all there next year!
I just got back from Austin, TX, and boy are my arms tired.
Sorry, I know I'm destroying you all with my groundbreaking comedy, but I'm just so giddy after the weekend I just had. As you know from reading my blog (you do read my blog, right - well, I guess that's a bit of a non sequitur since you're certainly reading it now) I spent last weekend at the resurrected KillerCon.
I'm going to talk a little bit about the convention now but I want to preface this piece by saying that I met and hung out with a lot of really cool people at this convention. So many, in fact, that this could easily just turn into a list of cool people, which will be terribly boring for the average reader. So I'm going to try to refrain from naming names as much as possible to keep this blogpost somewhat manageable. If I don't mention you, it's not because I dislike or forgot about you.
My girlfriend and I started out on Friday morning with a scare as we nearly didn't make it onto our flight from Harrisburg to Washington, D.C. Security at MDT that day decided that we both needed to be frisked and have our bags searched for some reason, and lines were long considering it was a 6:00 am flight. But we did make it to the venue after that with relatively little issue. And a good thing, too, because my first panel was at 1:00 pm local time.
My first (and, come to think of it, only) panel was "What the Hell?" about mythology in horror. I was the moderator and Wrath James White (also the founder and runner of KillerCon) was on it, as well as Brian Asman, who I met for the first time. Brian specified that he was not the famous balloon artist Brian Asman, but just some other Brian Asman, which was particularly hilarious because my girlfriend actually is a balloon artist. So now I suppose we'll be looking up Brian Asman videos, but not the guy we both know from the con.
The person who was not there was Gabino Iglesias, who you may also know as a contributor to my group blog. However, a few hours later I did finally get to meet Gabino.
My girlfriend and I spent that evening at the hotel bar, which was where I met so many people that it caused me to write that preface up there. We laughed and talked well into the evening and had a delightful time.
The next morning we had to get up early because there was a mass signing at 10:00 am. I was a bit unsure what to do for this convention. Normally I drive to conventions so when I don't have a table I tend to bring a trunk full of books, then carry around five or ten in my backpack, and replace them as necessary. When I have a table, I usually just bring all the boxes in.
So this time I was flying in and I figured I would bring about ten books total and just sell out when I sold out. Or not. Whatever.
So I sat down at the mass signing and within 45 minutes I had sold out of all my books and taken selfies with several fans. Genuine fans. My girlfriend was incredibly impressed.
At 3:00 pm, Brian Keene invited me and John Wayne Comunale to do mini-readings during his reading to help fill up the hour. I did "This Reading is Going to Suck," my new go-to. John Wayne did an amazing rendition from his new work SCUMMER. Let me tell you, this is an author to watch, folks. His prose is strong, his story was fascinating, and his delivery was on point. Brian finished up with a couple of killer pieces that gave me some ideas for audience interactivity in the future.
At 8:00 pm came the centerpiece of the event: The Splatterpunk Awards. I was nominated for one for best novel for THE HEMATOPHAGES. The award ended up going to WHITE TRASH GOTHIC by Edward Lee, the towering godfather of the genre, thus righting a wrong for someone who has not received an award for his work in 35 years of writing the most extreme horror in the field.
So, I was a little bit disappointed. A lot of people asked me throughout the day if I was nervous, but the truth is I wasn't. That's not some kind of "too cool for school" attitude. I just wasn't terribly. If I won, I knew what I wanted to say and who I wanted to thank. But if I didn't win, it wasn't the end of the world. The way I see it, if I've been nominated for an industry award after just five years of publishing, I must be doing all right. If it takes me another thirty years to win, then I'll be doing exactly as well as the master of extreme horror, right?
So, all in all, I felt a slight pinch when my name wasn't announced, but no worse than giving blood. Besides, I figured I'd have a second chance to win an industry award that night when I entered the Deadite Press Gross-Out Contest. Now, those of you who read my blog (you do read my blog, don't you?) know that I won the 2016 Gross-Out Contest at the last World Horror Convention. I was a bit worried about entering this year as well. 2016 was a blast, and legends like Jeff Strand and Jack Ketchum entered, and my drunken, wide-eyed acceptance speech will always be one of my greatest memories.
But at KillerCon I was facing down a veritable bevy of bizarros. Now, what you have to know about bizarro authors is that they take a different attitude towards readings than us straight horror types. Bizarro readings are more like performance art, and often feature props, dadaism, audience participation, and skits. In a circumstance like the Gross-Out Contest, all of those things are strong advantages.
However, I don't wear those sorts of things well. I'm happy to do a little bit of pantomime, but for the most part I just worry about writing a really good, targeted piece and performing it well. This year's entry was "Everybody Poops. Especially Godzilla." (Which, if you're very good little boys and girls, I'll share with you on Wednesday.)
As the contest started, all my fears were realized. A couple of horror authors presented some strong entries, and the bizarros were even stronger. Then Michael Allen Rose began reading a gut-busting novelization of "Two Girls, One Cup," culminating in him pulling our old friend John Wayne Comunale on stage and both feeding each other Snickers bars. I was sure I was toast.
There was nothing for it but sheer, true grit. (Yeah, you thought I wouldn't pull that one out, didn't you, John Wayne?) So I dug down deep and gave my best rendition ever. And it tore the house down. Still, I was pretty sure I was just going to get second place. But I won!
Making me a two-time Gross-Out Contest winner! The winner and still champion!
But wait! There's more!
Immediately after the contest, Deadite Press hosted a party. I got to have a long, great conversation with Bev Vincent, however I think he was much more charmed by my girlfriend than me. However, both accused me of making their drinks too strong. So I guess I got Bev drunk.
Then I finally got to tick something off my bucket list. I met Carlton Mellick III!
I'm pretty sure I made a complete ass of myself, so this will probably be the last picture I get with him, but I'm still gobsmacked it happened. I got to tell him how much "Lemon Knives and Cockroaches" influenced me (check out THE GHOUL ARCHIPELAGO if you don't believe me.)
We had to head out pretty early Sunday morning to make it home. But all in all, KillerCon was an amazing time, intimate and large and definitely an event not to miss. Hope to see you all there next year!
