Monday, November 21, 2011

Communal Blinking


Committing to weary memory countless atrocities while we grind our teeth to dust. Our history is a stain.

Gouge them out with forks, scissors, and screw-drivers!
Dig them clean with awls, steak knives, and cork screws!

The blood that trickles down our cheeks is as thin as the ice underneath us.
Our future is pain.


Buy my books here

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

MC Stitches

“Mic check one, two, one two.”

And then the screaming starts. No one hears it besides MC Stitches.

He sits in his basement cage composing the dopest beats humankind has ever dared to imagine. Deep vibrating organ pipes thicken the rapid pulsing drum n’ bass, adding an element of malevolence and a layer of pure funky groove. Then the first looped scream repeats. The howl of pain is intimate and pure. It is his scream from when he carved out his right eye for its stubborn refusal to look towards the future. It churns an avalanche of regret within his bowels and he smashes his forehead against the cage to retain the focus needed for his opus.

Blood drizzles down from the fresh gash and makes crimson lightning streaks across the over sized lens of his goggles. With one two-fingered hand he cues up the next scream. With his other hand, frighteningly complete with all five spindly fingers, he turns a knob and stretches the beats beyond the intro. The scream set to join the loop n’ groove, he reaches his two twitchy digits and flips the switch to the three hanging 17 inch black light tubes attached to the roof of his cage.

The flood of dark light illuminates the crowd of five corpses littered around his basement stage. The second scream, the first he ever stole, falls into groove after his shriek amidst the pounding rhythm. His audience sits motionless tied to chairs with duct tape and barbed wire. Their mouths hang open, eyeless sockets swallowing the light and drooling it down pale scarred cheeks. The cherry veins across his goggles glow a deep romantic red and his remaining eye tears. Two fingers give the spinning record a quick scratch then cue the next pair of screams. One deep and one shrill, they capture and rape the high and low end of the ever evolving groove in an aural masterpiece. Only MC Stitches hears it.

He grabs the mic with his complete hand and shouts through his spittle soaked bandanna in his broken voice.

“Everybody get up!”

Though his bastardized soundboards could easily replicate and repeat the phrase he shouts a slightly less rowdy echo.

“Get up! Get up!”

None of his corpse groupies move but their lack of devotion to the groove doesn’t deter him any. They each had chances to listen to his epic song. Extraordinary, unbelievably kind glimpses into his terrible towering masterpiece he offered them. Each cowered in fear. Each refused to see the beauty, dark and ferocious, in the gift of groove he offered them. So, he added them to the mix. Each was good for at least a scream or two, a sobbing whine, or a gurgled whimper. Each became a part of the groove. Only MC Stitch hears them.

His head bobs constantly, the groove ringing and throbbing in his ears and soul. He is a constant blur as the song builds and falls back on itself. Within a few minutes there are so many screams looping they run end to end rendering the groove, so tight and so dope, utter chaos. Sweat mingles with the blood drizzling down his face giving him an iodine-colored sheen in the black light. At the thirteen minute mark MC Stitches feels his epic taking shape.

“Can you dig it? Dig it! Dig it!” He screams hoarsely into the mic. Then he reaches his good hand into the blades of the industrial fan perched on his cage to cool him and keep the reek of the corpses away from him.

The fingers don’t cut cleanly but rather break and tear away from his pointy knuckles giving the powerful blades something to choke on. The fan blades stutter against bone and the motor grinds in response. He pulls his hand away and the blades resume full speed and fling blood and pulp across the crowded basement. MC Stitches waves his fresh stump in the air like he just don’t care.

He uses his two fingers (his only fingers now) to play back the sound of his groove-sacrificed-self-mutilation. Louder, slurred like a drunk, and over-lapped by looping screams. He feels it. He reaches up tugs the bandanna from his face. Gripped tight in his two-fingered talon he brings the microphone to his lip-less face.

A shout from above interrupts him.


The groove is ruined. Thudding bass is creaking into quick silence and the screams weakening into chuckles. Yet the echo of his living ghost father’s baritone haunts still.

“Ribs could be broken!”

MC Stitches digs his fingers into his lacerated hand and rocks back and forth. His father isn’t upstairs. His father is a wind borne demon forever slipping in, out, gone.

“Everything you do is failure except hurt, boy!”

Two blood streaked fingers tug one plug from an outlet in the wall and plug in another hanging nearby. Black light blinks off. A string of 50 watt bulbs ooze on flooding the room with dismal glow. It the split second of transition MC Stitches sees the roomful of corpses sigh. He’d kill them again if he could, he’d enjoy it because the first time every bruise, every cut, every scream was for the groove. And their squeals and grunts and wails of pain still weren’t enough for his epic. He sulks past his rotting captive audience and up the rotting wooden stairs knowing it needs something more. One more scream, caught from a confrontation that dwells in memories and nightmares, a scream from a wind borne demon. Only MC Stitch hears it.

If you enjoy this story and are that kind of twisted soul you can find more of my work for here.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Mr. MoOn's Review of Lucky Stiff

Lucky Stiff
By Tonia Brown

And now for something different…

Lucky Stiff is an erotic zombie novel from the great Tonia Brown. Yup, you read that right erotic zombie novel. I know based on those two simple yet polarizing opposite words it seems like you are in for a gore fest with sex sprinkled in. I don’t blame you. But the truth of the matter is Lucky Stiff is an erotica novel first and for most, that happens to feature a walking dead man that sees more ass than a toilet seat.

When Peter dies on a vacation with his buddies they take his corpse to a voodoo madam that has some special tricks up her silky sleeves. The event that usually is the end of it all for someone is but the re-birth of Peter into a second half-life utterly foreign from his actual time alive. This 18 year old kid gets turned out into a stud…a globe trotting MILF-pleasing dead stud.

While my typical reading fare is gory and dark, Lucky Stiff was bright, sexy, and even funny through out. Without spoiling I will say that there is a little bit of violence and it is every bit as catching and graphic as the numerous steam scenes. The characters are well developed and each grows within the plot; which circles around and boasts a few surprising twists. Peter is truly a character you like as you get to know him through his sexcapades.

Tonia Brown is a hell of a talented writer and everything I’ve read from her is powerful and effective. Lucky Stiff is no exception. Easily the best zombie novel I’ve ever read one-handed. 

Grab your Peter here!

Monday, September 26, 2011

Big News for The Library of Bizarro Horror

It is with a heavy heart that I admit out loud that I have grown far too busy in both my personal and professional lives to give The Library of Bizarro Horror the attention it needs and deserves. As the time draws close for me to pass the torch, I am honored to announce the new Executive Librarian T. Patrick Rooney (A.K.A. Unoshato Katayama)!

Mr. Rooney is not only a very talented writer, he is also a fan and supporter of the bizarro genre. You'll be able to check out his awesome short story Bakemono in the very-quickly approaching Technicolor Tentacles. He has been a blurry force in devouring bizarro works and spreading the weird word. I will still over see a few (very soon to be finished) releases such as The New Flesh print antho and Technicolor Tentacles but by the before the end of the year Mr. Rooney will be calling the shots.

Please join me in welcoming Mr. Rooney and wishing him the very best in his new position!

Mr. MoOn

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Mr. MoOn Reviews Beyond the Dark

Beyond the Dark
By Patrick D’Orazio

Beyond the Dark is the third installment in Patrick D’Orazio’s zombie Dark Trilogy (after Comes the Dark and Into the Dark). With the first two novels Mr. D’Orazio takes his time introducing us to a large and varied cast of characters. In Comes the Dark we meet Jeff Blaine, a normal everyday suburbanite, as well as Megan, a widowed woman living in the same destroyed subdivision, and George, a man seeking to return home to his wife and daughters, and Jason, a twelve year old suffering through the loss of his mother at the hands of the undead. The four band together and search for safety within a world crawling with zombies. They find other survivors in Into the Dark, but the militant leader Michael turns out to be more a villain than a hero and his close circle of henchmen and his psychopathic girlfriend, Cindy, keep a small group of other survivors (including a few children) within the RV walls of their camp.

With Beyond the Dark we have all the fully developed characters which leaves us all revved up for action, action, and, yup, even more action. In this respect Mr. D’Orazio gratefully delivers. As with the previous volume the story picks up immediately where the last left off keeping with the intense feeling these well written zombie novels have established. The survivors are fleeing their camp after a literal zombie horde descends on it after a botched supply run. The RV full of survivors rolls over the gathering of the dead and navigates to the nearest town before disaster befalls them. The motor home gets up to speed and is passing through the town at a decent pace when it crashes into a tangle of abandoned vehicles.
Michael and his remaining henchman, the aggressive red neck Frank, and pycho Cindy are sitting in the front of the large home on wheels while Jeff and his growing band of survivors are in the back room. Once the motor home skids to an unceremonious stop Michael, Frank, and Cindy decide to leave the others to escape and defend themselves on their own against the dead attracted by the squealing metal. Jeff and his crew gather up everyone and realize immediately they have been abandoned by the others. So begins a breathless and exhausting dash to safety for the survivors.
Once the groups separate, each character lives up to their development and branches off even further. Some run for their own selfish reasons, others struggle to distract the shuffling corpses in order for the women and children to escape, and others use the chaos a chance to enact some violent revenge. Once everyone is out of the ruined motor home and in the open as the dead are surrounding them the overall feeling is nothing short of intense. The dead are again prominent monsters and Mr. D’Orazio describes them in loving detail as they attack the living. Some of the most harrowing moments in zombie fiction follow as the dead thin the number of living with their gnashing teeth. There are twists and climaxes through out the last part of the novel as come-upance is dealt out by the hordes of zombies upon the survivors. No one is safe when the un-exhaustible dead are in pursuit and D’Orazio shows no mercy on his characters and their fates.

As far as acting as the third book in trilogy Beyond the Dark delivers the zombie goods for sure. Out of the three I enjoyed its tense atmosphere and graphic violence the most. I think it stands alone better than the previous two even as it wraps the trilogy up perfectly. The epilogues alone are vastly entertaining and stand out amongst the hordes of zombie stories out there. I highly recommend not only this novel Beyond the Dark but the entire trilogy to you ravenous zombie fans out there.

(This is a looooong over due review. Personal issues have kept me insanely busy but keep you eyes open for reviews of books by Garrett Cook, Tonia Brown, and Jason Wuchenich, Anderson Prunty, and more!)

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Table of Contents for The Library of Bizarro Horror's Technicolor Tentacles

After months of delays, monkey-fights, cosmic-purple nurples, weeping wounds and seeping twins, hacky sack injuries, thumb wrestling tournaments, and shoddy ass internet connection...I give you the Table of Contents for the second anthology from The Library of Bizarro Horror...(gasp)...5$ Electric Suzie- William Pauley III /Nest of Sweat- Edmund Colell /Ancient Primordial Soliloquies of the Alien-Death-Gods- Randy Woodard / Piscis Penitus- Kristen Alene Pierce /GOD-EATER- Alexander Zelenyj /Mickey Mahoney's Evil Toys- David W. Barbee /Favors and Grudges: A Tale of Sister Merciless- Garrett Cook / A REPTANT HELL- Jordan Krall / Bile Black- Ash Lomen /PUSSYFACE- Kris Triana /Snowd White And The Flat-Footed Flies Of Flaxton- Barry Rosenberg /Property Dualism Apocalypse- Kirk Jones /The Fix- Nikki Guerlain /Searching For Something A Fiendish Thing Stole- Ben McElroy /Scores of Cores- Rev. Steven Rage /You Are What You Eat- Joe Bouthiette /Ten Sleepless Years- D.G. Sutter /Bakemono- T. Patrick Rooney /....Coming soon!!!!

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Disasternoon by Jonathan Moon

We slept till noon because we are both ugly in the morning. We woke up and dragged ourselves from the darkness of my bed room to the melancholy of my living room. The curtains are drawn over boarded up windows.

She tells me she’s an actress. Maybe she pretends she is someone else when the strobe lights are sweating her and she wraps her legs around the pole. Her lie makes us even because I told her she is safe.

“I have hopes and dreams.” She tells me because she can’t stop lying.

I don’t trust her limp because it catches me off guard. Physical frailty makes me nervous and she misinterprets the apathy etched on my face. She doesn’t like my whiskey breath because it reminds her of her dad.

She turns on the stereo and sweeps her arms across my coffee table. Cigarette butts flee their ash tray tombs and papers that used to mean something scatter all around. She climbs on the table and dances with tears streaming down her sunken cheeks.

“I can get low.” She tells me, and then proves it by slapping her bare ass against the table.

I cradle my whiskey bottle breakfast close to my chest to watch her as tears scorch my eyes. The dance is jerky, awkward, and sexy but it doesn’t match the funeral dirge blasting from the stereo at all. The morning was a waste and now the after noon is a disaster.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Mr. Moon's Review of A Million Versions of Right

A Million Versions of Right
By Matthew Revert

A Million Versions of Right is a collection of absolute absurdity from Matthew Revert (pronounced Rev Air, and I only mention so you don’t sound like a fool when recommending this book to all your friends).

I confess right off the bat it has taken me far longer to write this review than it should have. Despite the fact A Million Versions of Right is one of the most entertaining works of literary mayhem I’ve EVER read. Despite the fact I’ve read it over and over in the few short months I’ve owned it. Despite the fact I can open it to any random page and I know I’ll laugh out loud. Despite the fact I’ve spent entire shifts at my day job praising it and spoiling every story for everyone within ear shot. Yeah, despite all of that I still have one hell of a time reviewing this wonderfully weird collection. I think the best way to achieve my goal of relaying my feelings for this amazingly bizarre bunch of stories is to take it one story at a time.

The title story A Million Versions of Right opens up the collection and gives you a fair idea of the madness you can expect. This is a wonderfully crafted story about ejaculating small mustachioed tillers and how to deal with such strange ejaculates. It is the classiest low brow humor has ever been, featuring more surprising (totally insane) moments and laugh out loud passages than almost any story I’ve read in the past five years. I first read this story in the amazing Purple Bizarro Starter kit and purchased A Million Versions of Right on the strength of this story alone. A seriously great piece of humorous fiction.

From there we go to a story called The Bricolage Scrotum. Every full blooded male will cringe starting with the first paragraph and then giggle through rest…while still cringing. This is the story of two brothers and the scrotums they pop. As well as a man that doesn’t like scrotums and their hideous appearance and an opposing group of pro-scrotum men hell bent on sharing some scrot-love. If you have a ball bag this story will make you truly appreciate it…all while cringing and laughing.
The Great Headphone Wank is the surprisingly heartfelt story about headphones that play the sounds of people masturbating through them. The main character works for a company where he yells at walls all day. This story is just as absurd and hilarious as the rest but it also has a bittersweet heart to it that tugs at your emotions through your tears of laughter.

The four part Meeting Max is a modern weird fiction masterpiece featuring a barber district, bald men in capes, PMS conspiracies, and sex so twisted Freud would climb out of his grave to talk moms with Mr. Revert. This story is the longest of the lot and therefore contains the most laughs. Insane, obscene, and terribly fantastic in every way.

Power Blink is a quick little story that crams a lot of ridiculousness into just a few pages. Imagine a blink so powerful it could make you soil yourself. If you can’t get the mental picture on your own worry not because Revert can do it for you and make you glad he did.

The Book Mark that Wouldn’t Work closes the collection with the absurd history of the book mark and a case of one that simply won’t work. Frustration has seldom been so funny.

If you couldn’t tell I adore this book. I would give it six stars out of five if I could. The stories are incredibly absurd and I maintain that in the hands of a less talented writer this collection would be a mess of confusing disturbing crap. Instead A Million Versions of Right is a shining star among the weird fiction world just waiting for you to swallow it whole. I seriously can’t recommend this hilariously brilliant collection enough. Fans of comedy and bizarro should own this collection and are only hurting themselves by not having it on their shelves.

Order your own copy here! Trust me you'll be glad you did.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Mr. Moon's Review of Starfish Girl

Starfish Girl
By Athena Villaverde

Starfish Girl is the cutest bizarro book I’ve read yet. Now, please don’t go misinterpreting that statement, because somehow Ms. Villaverde has crafted a story equal part ‘AWWWWW’’ and ‘AWESOME’. The cute (or ‘AWWWWW’) comes in the form of the young starfish girl main character, Ohime, and her childish innocence and ever endearing positive attitude. The ’AWESOME’ comes in the form of the red sea anemone dreadlocked assassin, Timbre, and her wicked fighting skills, poison darts and fierce tentacles.

Together the young girl and the assassin travel across an underwater world encased in a giant dome. Every stop along the way is described in vivid and vibrant detail as the two are chased by the evil Dr. Itchii and his crew of sea creature mutant henchmen through a landscape devastated by a strange yellow algae that mutates the dome inhabitants. Our heroines navigate the world encountering strange and dangerous characters every step of the way. The world is bright and colorful despite the apocalyptic feel that permeates the story. As I was reading I felt like I was watching a twisted neon cartoon with sex, violence, and heart.

Like the other story I’ve read from Athena, Clockwork Girl from the incredible Purple Bizarro Starter Kit, Starfish Girl is entertaining and reads quick enough you almost don’t even realize you’ve become emotionally invested until the story reaches its end and you’re left with a bittersweet smile on your face. Bright colors, fantastic scenery, odd and imaginative characters, and a surprising amount of grittiness make for one hell of an entertaining read. I highly recommend Starfish Girl to fans of anime, bizarro, and fish.

You can order Starfish Girl here!

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Soul in My Throat

I should have put her soul in a glass jar. It would have stained the jar black just like all the others. I know that now. She smelled so pure and so sweet.

Sometimes gristle looks just like meat.

I tasted her; her sweat and her blood. My stomach turned and I couldn't resist. I took out her eyes and they tasted fine. But her soul was poisoned and foul.

My eyes water and I'm dying now.

I cut off her hands and hung them with the others. The black jars swirled and shone there on my shelf. Thick blood caked in stripes down her cheeks and I didn't notice her grin.

I save the souls and I eat the sin.

Her soul was swollen as decay made it bloat. It chokes down my screams and my breath. My hands and feet go numb first. My knife clatters when it hits the floor and the jars seem to rattle. My world is going as black as the jars upon my shelf. Her eyeless corpse smiles at me while I choke on her soul in my throat.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Mr. Moon Interviews Jordan Krall

If you've been paying any kind of attention to the budding Bizarro scene you know who Jordan Krall is. If you haven't been paying attention to the budding Bizarro scene you need to, seriously go to Bizarro Central right now then come back and finish reading this.. Jordan Krall is a literary animal, writing books filled to the brim with kinks and squids that hop genre lines like the Soulja Boy dance. He is the author of an ever growing list of not only good, but great works. His western Fistful of Feet is my favorite bizarro novel (we'll talk about it later) and his novella King Scratch (see the doubled head review from a few days back) has a great chance of being nominated for a Wonderland Award this year. In short he is awesome and donkeys everywhere look up to him. I know its hard to depchier though all my babble but Mr. Krall is seriously one of my favorite writers working today and I am honored to bring you his DEATHMATCH interview!

Q. Okay, lets start from the beginning. What made you want to become a writer and who and what do you credit with influencing you?

A. There was no defining moment that made me want to become a writer, no magical moment when I realized my “destiny.” I suppose it all came about from growing up in a household where everyone read books. The ironic part is that my family mostly read nonfiction. My earliest memory of my wanting to be a writer was when I was very young and drawing/writing in the inside covers of books. I specifically recall one book being about robots. As a teenager, I was heavy into the Beat writers as well as Surrealism and Dadaism… and I think that might have influenced me to think of writing as a lifestyle, a way to express my thoughts for other people. At that time I was also reading a lot of horror like Clive Barker, Lovecraft, Koontz. My goal was, and still is, to have my writing enjoyed by people I don’t know (and therefore have no obligation to me so they don't have to lie about liking it). I’ve accomplished that. So I guess I can stop writing any day now.

Q. I gotta admit Fistful of Feet is my favorite work of bizarro fiction. As a fan of both old westerns and bizarro it captured the best of both; sticking to classic western story lines and action while breathing twisted weird life into the town and the large cast of characters. Is there any chance of more stories returning to Screwhorse?

A. I did write a few related stories and they are available in a short ebook called FOR A FEW FEET MORE. They went to people who preordered FISTFUL OF FEET (though I might have forgotten some people so if you didn’t get a copy, contact me!). I also wrote a prequel story THE PISTOL BURPS which you can find in the first issue of the Magazine of Bizarro Fiction. I don’t have anymore plans on writing anything substantial connected to that book, though. I suppose if a publisher approached me about doing one, I would.

Q. Is it true that at Horrorfind 2010 William Pauley III drank you under the table?

A. Is William Pauley III even old enough to drink? He doesn’t look it. He might be about old enough to maybe shine my shoes. Anyway I don’t recall his drinking anything at Horrorfind except for my “jerky vodka” and that is the god’s honest truth.
(Interviewer Note: *shiver*)

Q. What are you working on right now?

A. Wow, that’s crazy question because I got a lot of stuff going on at the moment. I’m finishing up TENTACLE DEATH TRIP for Eraserhead Press. It’s a post-apocalyptic road race with some Cthulhu mythos elements. Also, PENETRALIA which Legumeman Books will be publishing. I guess the best description I can give right now is that it’s like an Andy Milligan film novelized by someone like Edward Lee….but without the humor. I’m planning on this being a pretty dark, serious book with a lot of intense sex, violence, and psychosexual themes. Also, I have a book coming out soon by Copeland Valley Press. It’s called BEYOND THE VALLEY OF THE APOCALYPSE DONKEYS and is probably my best work so far. It involves a rare film, an obsessed fan, a nudist colony, and a hummingbird. I believe it defies genre labels. It’s somewhat bizarro. It has elements of horror. But it also has melodrama, romance, action. It’s probably my most personal work.

Q. Writers write about what they know, and it’s been said horror writers write about what scares them. Seriously, are you more afraid of squid than they are of you?

A. Sea life both fascinates and repulses me. Some childhood experiences in the ocean have also placed some deep-rooted fears in me. But really..look at vampire squid and horseshoe crabs and tell me they don’t belong in Hell. I'd like to wipe them off the face of the earth.
(Interviewer Note: I think the answer would be the same if I asked about feet.)

Q. How far would you make it through Willy Wonka’s Chocolate factory?

A. I wouldn’t even have gone in. I’d have known it was a trick from the beginning. No one likes a liar, Willy Wonka.

Q. Since I know you are a fellow fan of the true masters of rock, Clutch, I gotta ask what’s your favorite Clutch album? And why?

A. Probably Blast Tyrant because it’s just the most consistently rocking and the one I can listen to over and over the most. I also like the vocals better than in the early stuff.
( Interviewer Note: EXCELLENT ANSWER!)

Q. Six horror movies for an all night movie marathon?

A. That’s a tough question because I like all sorts of horror movies and will sometimes have different marathons (Universal, Hammer, etc). But if I was going for an all out favorite horror marathon these would be the ones, the movies I could watch over and over (and often do): Halloween III, Tourist Trap, Suspiria, Eaten Alive, Vacancy, Cigarette Burns.

Q. You and William Pauley III are doing a sweet ass duel novella for Library of Bizarro Horror this year, can you tell the people a little about your story?

A. My story is called YOUR CITIES, YOUR TOMBS and is difficult to describe except that I’ll say it involves a motel, an industrial park, and it’s probably nothing like anything I’ve written before.
(Interviewer Note: This duel novella will rip off faces and tack it to walls.)

Q. William Pauley III once stated his Indian burns kick your nipple twisters ass, how does this statement make you feel?

A. It makes me feel uncomfortable because William has been warned several times not to talk about my body.

(interviewer note: in the official cover this donkey has nipples)

Q. Who is your ALL-TIME favorite bad guy?

A. Another tough question. Maybe Mr. Slausen from Tourist Trap but that sounds lame.Or maybe Michael Sullivan from Road to Perdition though I guess he's not really a bad guy.

Q. If you could knife fight one celebrity who would it be?

A. Julia Roberts. I’d love to carve that stupid grin off her face.

Q. Is William Pauley III’s hair as soft as it looks?

A. It’s actually a wig. I’m not kidding.
(Interviewer note: I don't believe him. That hair looks silkier than a wig)

Q. Who said, “just because we’re bereaved it doesn’t make us saps!” ?

A. Haha! Someone I emulate every chance I get.

Q. Quick, name drop five great Bizarro talents!

A. Just five? There are quite a few who are authors to really look out for so I’m going to end up leaving some good people out. But here are probably my favorite authors, ones who are completely brilliant at what they do: William Pauley III, Garrett Cook, Andersen Prunty, Eric Mays, Matthew Revert.
(Interviewer note: I can vouch for each of these dudes.)


Q. Mere moments after Joe Fox of Fox Books realizes ‘Shopgirl’, the woman he has slowly been falling in love with on-line, is really Kathleen Kelly, the spirited independent book store owner around the block, a horde of zombiefied television sitcom stars converge on Manhattan. In seconds Joe and his general manager/wing man Kevin are surrounded by dead Hollywood brats whose behavior in life was unpredictable and twice as much so now that they are rotting. Please describe in a 1000 words or so Joe and Kevin’s plan of attack to save ‘Shopgirl’ from the gnashing teeth of television history!

A. Dabney Coleman who plays Joe Fox’s father, watches from the sidelines. Who the fuck do those Hollywood brats think they are, right? That’s what he’s asking while he channels his inner Jack Flack and comes out with his Cold War-era espionage skills a-blazing. His “son” Joe Fox (who, in reality, is really actor Henry Thomas) beats his general manager Kevin to death with a copy of House of Leaves. He doesn’t need that wise-cracking asshole to survive this apocalyptic shit. Unnecessary character taken care of.

Dabney “Jack Flack” Coleman aka Father Fox, well, he’s wearing a beret and sneaking around the outside of Fox Books. He’s always prepared for any sort of Blitzkrieg undead or otherwise.

“Come on out, son,” he whispers though the whisper is quite loud….not unlike a stampede of elephants amplified through a bullhorn. “We gotta save Lady Ace!”

Joe Fox aka Henry Thomas, he’s just sitting there with a bloody copy of House of Leaves, trying to wonder if saving that woman, Kathleen “Lady Ace” Kelly aka ShopGirl is really worth it. I mean, she’s so passive, so weak, even for a woman. She’s even annoying when she sneezes. He realizes he should have stayed in San Antonio because New York City is a haven for degenerates and Communists and hipsters and small businesses and Mafiosi and Disney occultism and fashionable but passé vegans. Then there are the anarcho-primitivists who ride bicycles just like people did 10,000 years ago.

“Dad, we don’t have to save anyone but ourselves,” he says. “Let me just grab a bag and fill it up with books for our journey west.”

Again, Jack Flack Dabney whispers/screams. “Make sure you grab every copy of Simon Revair’s Stadium Games!”

“Will do, pa!” Joe Fox yells, sarcastically calling his father “pa” because it was old-fashioned and he was a man of the 20th Century (1998 to be exact. Two years before the Y2K catastrophe which left millions without access to porn and Dime-a-Dance clubs).

What about the zombies? Oh, the zombies are doing their thing, shuffling around and making sounds like massive indigestion. They are only playing second fiddle to the real stars who are, of course, the Fox men. But still, we can’t leave the zombies out. Gary Coleman himself is shuffling himself into Fox Books, kicking books and grabbing any customer he can. He bites one man and he eats and he spits out yuppie flesh which is bland and tastes like trendy health food and an overpriced education.

And then in the Hobbies section of Fox Books there was Morris who looks a lot like Flattop from the 1990 movie version of Dick Tracy. Poor Morris won’t make it, of course. He gets shot by a real smart zombie with a huge mustache. The bullet goes through Morris and into an old computer monitor while dead Gary Coleman giggles.

Joe Fox Henry Thomas watches this and decides he has to at least have some contact with dead Gary Coleman because, in fact, he did enjoy the work of the live Gary Coleman though now it is mostly old episodes Diff’rent Strokes on television and a lone copy of season one on DVD (It had been an X-Mas Gift from pa Fox who, despite DNA evidence to the contrary, insists that Gary is his first born for they share the same dry sense of humor and sarcastic wit).

Being as stealthy as can be, Joe Fox grabs his bag, stuffs it with the books his father requested, and walks down to the first floor of the store and approached dead Gary Coleman.

He says, “Dead Gary Coleman…..can I touch you?”

“Blah! BAWAAAWAWAWAWAWAWAAAAA!” is all dead Gary Coleman replies. It isn’t even that he can’t speak as much as he doesn’t want to spend any of his remaining brainpower on coherency for some capitalist pig like Joe Fox. That bargain books megastore was hell on earth.

Joe Fox (aka Henry Thomas… you get the idea) backs away from the dead comedian and wonders, “Why the hell am I afraid of this guy?”

Before he can answer himself, Mr. Gary Coleman dons a fedora hat and a trench coat. He glides across the bookstore floor and lands a punch square in Joe Fox’s nose. Blood and disappointment fly everywhere.

Father Dabney Fox (now in priest garb over his spy attire) runs into the store to avenge his son’s beating. He stands in front of his “first born” …. Gary himself.

“Punch someone your own size, son number 1,” Fox says.

“Blah! That’s impossible,” Gary says.

“Blasphemy!” Father Fox says, pulling off his beret and throwing it Frisbee-like towards Coleman.

A decapitation occurs.

Other things happen.

There’s a fire in Fox Books and out of the flames walks a figure…..and that figure resembles Jack Flack….but Joe Fox watches the figure morph into none other than TOM HANKS.

“How is that possible?” Joe Fox asks himself.

Father Fox answers, “Anything is possible in San Antonio .”

“But we’re in New York City , pa,” Joe says.

“Shit, boy, I think you’re right.”

Dabney Coleman quits and shit just disintegrates from there. The fucking end.

(Interviewer note: this is one of very few photos of Mr. Krall without his human mask on.)

Visit Krall's website.

But Krall's books.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

What 'They' Say About Heinous PT 2

(this post is a sequel...check the first here)

My horrorcore masterpeice Heinous has been out for right around a month now and it has been wrapping those souls brave enough to read it since in my sharp darkness. I can tell you all day long that Heinous is a read that really will scare, shock, and entertain you...however, you should probably hear it from others so I don't look as pompous about it as I really am. Below are some of my favorite quotes from a handful of new reviews, below them is the link to the full review. Check them all out...notice the pattern? REAL horror fans that like REAL horror all recommend Heinous...YOU will enjoy it...

"I have said it before in a prior review of Mr. Moon’s work-the man knows how to spin a tale. He is a story teller of the macabre and this story tears and claws at you, much as Heinous tears and claws at Gavin, shattering him both inside his head and throughout his body. I will warn you that Moon doesn’t soften the blow at any point, and kept me wondering what grand new vicious treat was waiting around the corner with every page I turned" Patrick D'Orazio- author of The Dark Trilogy

Read the entire review at Patrick's blog

"(Heinous) is interspersed with dream sequences so thick with gore and carnage they would make a Cenobite blush. The gore is really where this book shines. Moon has cooked up some deeply disturbing tableaus of otherworldly torture, each more creative than the next, depicted in lovingly brutal detail." Lorna D. Keach

Read the entire review at

"Jonathan Moon pulls no punches—if anything he sneaks a few below the belt—in a book packed from cover to cover with carnage, mayhem and a couple things that will make you pause to process what you just witnessed. HEINOUS is like a massive car wreck, making rubberneckers of us all." Stephen W. Roberts of The Dark Fiction Spotlight

read the entire review at

"Unlike anything since Clive Barker, have we experienced such impacting writing and a want to have the hell literally scared out of us." Sonar 4 Landing Dock Reviews

Read the entire review at the Sonar 4 Landing Dock

To wrap all this Heinous talk up I'm going to leave you with an entire review from Joshua Myers that I lifted from the amazon page...

I'd heard the hype. I'd read the blurbs. I didn't know if anything could possibly live up to the praise this book received. I was very, very wrong.

Reading HEINOUS is like mainlining a mixture of loss and hatred into your eyeball. Jonathan Moon has crafted a truly impressive book here. His surreal lyrical style drifts between the damned life of one Gavin Wagner and the obscene dreams that parallel the reality of the hell he inhabits. HEINOUS hits hard and does not stop. Mr. Moon pulls no punches. HEINOUS is mean and it's cold. It does not like you, and it does not intend to.

This book hurt in a way I haven't experienced in a good long time. It took me nearly twice as long to read HEINOUS as I'd expected due to frequently having to put the book down and clear my head or take a shower. It's uncomfortable, and there were times when I debated taking a break from HEINOUS to read something lighter, but Moon's writing is so clean, so vicious, that I had to keep going.

HEINOUS is by far the most impressive and effective horror novel I have read in years. It isn't one I'll forget for a long, long time. Mr. Moon, you've shaken me to my core, and I thank you for it.

So there you have it! I double dog dare you to walk in my darkness!
Order Heinous here now!

Sunday, June 5, 2011

FRIST LOOK-Cover for Wacktards of the Apocalpyse

(Give this bad boy a click to get a good look at it!)

COMING SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON from The Library of Bizarro Horror!!!

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Double Headed Review- King Scratch & DOOM MAGNETIC!

Two of my favorite bizarro writers. Jordan Krall and William 'CAPLOCKS' Pauley III, will be joining forces this year to bring you a stellar duel novella from The Library of Bizarro Horror. I wanted to take a chance to give you my quick reviews on a few of their books. I'll do King Scratch and DOOM MAGNETIC! this week and Fistful of Feet and The Brothers Crunk next week.

King Scratch
By Jordan Krall

I think Jordan Krall has added his own sub-genre to the amazing Bizarro genre and I call it squid-noir. King Scratch is my Exhibit A.

King Scratch is a story about the seedy world of moonshine smuggling in the ever seedy New Jersey. This pulpy noir nightmare begins with the main character Jim and his lady friend, Peggy, in the middle of some good old fashioned screwing when Jim’s moonshining ex-father-in-law calls. Red Henry (Jim’s father-in-law) babbles a string of nonsense at Jim that happens to stir up an adventure in the making. Jim’s ex-wife Laura calls right after her father and asks Jim to check on the crazy old coot. What follows is pure chaos as only Jordan Krall can unleash. Car crashes, penile insertions, rape, pancakes, men in stove pipe hats, double crosses, psychopathic generals, more squid parts than a calamari processing plant, and the most repulsive moonshine ever are all high lights of this quick reading novella.

To add to the pulpy feel of the story Krall switches back and forth between 1st and 3rd person narratives as he follows Jim, who narrates his own story, and Black Boned Keith, a man following Jim through Krall’s greasy New Jersey town. Wicked visions and hellish reality mix as both men rush towards Red Henry’s home/ moonshine sill. The story twists and warps all the way to the conclusion dragging you through puddles of squid goo to get there.

The novella also features four short appendixes that are all different and equally twisted. Each simultaneously fills in story and twists it even more. The one with General Entwhistle is one of the coolest things I’ve ever read, hands down.

At this point I’m going to admit this novella isn’t for everyone but those that it is for will dig the hell outta it! Krall is an absolute master of the depraved, and he can describe a scene that should make your stomach twist and knot like some people can snap their fingers. There in lies this man’s talent, he is a damn fine writer and can make any story damn good. This is dark twisted pulpy noir story, and a damn fine one at that. I’m a fan of Jordan Krall and his writing, and King Scratch is just one of the reasons why. And, damn.

By William Pauley III

With DOOM MAGNETIC! William Pauley III creates a fast-paced bizarro space western adventure. A space cowboy, Maundin, has followed a mysterious voice’s instructions and stolen a highly valuable purple television. A very powerful assassin, Qoser, with a cue ball eye and a small army of meat eating monsters known as Mopes is tracking Maundin across the entire galaxy in hopes of returning the purple television. Maundin gets the drop on the evil Qoser and manages to saw his head from his body before escaping. However, Qoser is a badass of the highest degree and possesses the power to open The DOOM MAGNETIC, a powerful and mysterious void, and a simple decapitation isn’t going to slow him down for long.

So with that DOOM MAGNETIC is off and running in what I can only describe as the best action movie from the 80’s that never really got made. Pauley creates a massive universe filled with space traveling jalopies, super hot chicks, incompetent doctors, floating state/ planets, stale smoke torture chambers, plenty of beer, coliseum battles, and Ziggy F’n Stardust. In short this is a highly accessible work of bizarro fiction that I have suggested to several bizarro-virgins. In long, this is a quick-paced, quick-witted, easy-to-read, non-stop-entertaining space western epic that will keep you chuckling all the way through. Highly recommend to fans of sci/fi, bizarro, action, and bizarro.

You can snag your very own, non squid smellin' copy of King Scratch here.

You can find space/western adventure DOOM MAGNETIC! here.

Friday, May 27, 2011

Shawn Cook (A.K.A. bagabones) Gives Me a Pretty Death

Look someone else kills the hell outta me!

A few months ago we played a game over at the Library of the Living Dead forum where I slaughtered my friends one by one while they all pointed at each other. Killing games are fun games. So, anyways, after I gutted everyone I, being the cool mofo I am, offered them all the chance to kill me back od buddy/co-author Tim Long took me up on it and turned it into one of the coolest birthday presents I've ever gotten. My editor and good friend Stephanie Kincaid brought Heinous to life to teach me a lesson in curse words, hooks and tentacles. And now Shawn Cook, the talented recluse known as bagabones on a number of forums,has given me a beautiful demise. Without any further pretty death...

The cities and villages belonged to the ghosts now. Bodies lay in decaying repose as the world slowly faded to silence around them. Here and there they eroded to their base elements; in cars, houses and beds. Streets were desolate as fear had forced most indoors, perhaps one or two littered the pavement unable to go any farther towards their destination.

Birds, once immune to the pandemic, now lay alongside the carcasses of cat, dog, pig, cattle and human. The virus was eating the life from the world with a professional’s ease and a mountain’s patience. Only the ghosts, multitude in their silent witness, gained any number.

Jonathan pushed onward while the fever ravaged his brain and his skin burned; his guts were ice cold and shivering. He’d held out longer than the millions who’d gone before, had held out as long as he could. Now, he was nearing the end.

The car slalomed as consciousness tried to escape into feversleep and he forced his eyes open a little wider. The roar of rumble strips as his car eased to the shoulder whipped him back to wakefulness.

Tears slipped down his cheeks, mingled with sweat and dropped onto his stained shirt. His right hand skittered across the passenger seat like a palsied spider, searching out that hidden half-pack of cigarettes under the detritus of travel.

It was there, buried under the crinkled paper with the screaming headline: “SUPERVIRUS DEVISTATES EASTERN SEABOARD!”

A pop of flame, inhale deeply, fight the urge to cough, exhale. Fuck cancer, man; that shit takes too long. Smoke fills the car and he cracks the window. As he eases past an overturned tractor-trailer the stereo begins to hum a tuneless white noise.


The whisper was barely audible.

“Jonathan.” The voice was low and flat, oozing from the speakers. The radio has been broken for weeks. “Where are you going, Jonathan?”

“The beach.” His voice rasps into the stale air. “Wanna see the ocean before I go.”

A burst of static. “Ah, of course. I shall wait for you there.”

The odd conversation had barely registered. In a mind scarred by nightmarish hallucinations this was little more than a hiccup. Within minutes the memory of the voice had been scorched from his mind.

He sat behind the wheel and watched the ocean roll itself upon the shore. He didn’t remember most of his trip, only flashes of clarity he wished to forget. Hastily dug mass graves and funeral pyres long extinguished, suicides hanging from trees and burnt houses. Lucidity had returned, his body exhausted from fighting, the heat under his skin lowered to a dull throb.

A figure appeared from behind a dune, far enough away for the features to be indistinct but Jonathan could tell it was a man.

A survivor, untouched and healthy? Doubtful. Perhaps another like-minded individual, plague ridden and dying, such as himself. He sneezed once, twice explosively into the air and tried to ignore the blood that now coated the steering wheel, dash and windshield.


The sun felt good upon his shoulders. The sand pulled at his shoes. The sea driven breeze was almost cleansing. His fever began to return, snarling through his body; deadlier this time. He didn’t have long. Not long at all.

As he approached the figure, Jonathan began to tremble. Not entirely from the sickness. Although he looked human, this man was neither survivor nor victim, he was something else entirely. The pale skin and worn clothing had marked him as a shut-in lucky enough to have outlasted the plague. The eyes, black as the deepest ocean trench said otherwise.

“Hello, Jonathan.” The stranger’s mouth never moved.

Vertigo flooded into the spaces from which equilibrium fled and Jonathan slipped to the sand, sick and dizzy.

His mouth worked the word twice before his voice managed to speak.


“An escort, if you will. You are one of the last.”

The stranger placed a knee in the sand next to where Jonathan rested and laid a boney hand upon the nape of his fevered neck. Jonathan’s eyes never left the restless, eternal ocean. The voice of the strange man spoke softly into Jonathan’s ear, one syllable; drawn out to coalesce with the crashing tide.


He inhaled as the world grew black at the edges and could feel his body being laid on its back in the sand.

“Let it go, Jonathan. Let it all go.”

Jonathan exhaled his last breath as those long past welcomed him with open arms.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Mr. Moon's Review of A Life On Fire

I gleefully spend most spare hours I can with my nose in a book. I have stacks of horror and bizarro novels that litter my house. Books that shock, books that scare, and books that make me laugh out loud. And now, it’s time for something different…Chris Bowsman’s A Life on Fire.

A Life on Fire is one man’s journey into the flaming hell of depression. Gerald McManner is a young man at the cross-roads of life. His young wife recently committed suicide, leaving Gerald a total mess with more questions than joys. His job is monotonous and grates on his nerves. He has built a wall around him casting friends out of his private hell. Gerald turns to beer as a means of dealing with his pain and feelings but soon he finds himself in a twisted reality that defies logic time and time again. As the story progresses reality falls away for poor Gerald until he is forced to face up to the pains of life and either give up or carry on.

Bowsman has crafted a very emotional story and peppered it with weirdness and heartache that never lets go. There are some of the things I love about horror (monsters and turmoil) and some of the things I love about bizarro (twisted realities and enduring weirdness) but this novel stands out on its relentless emotional power. This is not a ‘feel good’ read. In fact, several passages punched me right in the heart with the force of a mallet and seriously brought me down. THAT IS HOW POWERFUL IT IS. The scenes with his wife were unflinchingly real and heart breaking, giving deep depression center stage in a way that almost turns the pages for you. Once you start on A Life on Fire you have to see how it turns out despite the emotional toll it takes. Again, I feel this demonstrates the quality of the work.

A Life on Fire is one of the most powerful novellas I’ve read in the past few years. It takes a twisted and fearless look at human sadness and resilience in a way fans of horror and bizarro should eat right up. I highly recommend A Life on Fire if you are looking for a read that will push your emotional buttons and constantly leave you wondering what can possibly happen next. Be warned, dear reader, as this is a story that will stick with you…as most great works do.

Click here for your heartpunch!

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Two More Reviews of my Horrorcore Novel HEINOUS

Heinous has been out for a full week now! I am very proud to share the links to two more great reviews for it. ****WARNING- A FEW SMALL SPOILERS******

Patrick D'Orazio is not only a Monkey Faced Demon alumni, not only the author of The Dark Trilogy, but also a very fair and consistent book reviewer. Swing by his blog and check out the detailed review of Heinous he was kind enough to do. is an on-line site that specializes in all the things that bump and slither in the night for all us horror-writer-ly types. Lorna D. Keach read and reviewed Heinous as well this weekend and you can find the GORE-stained review here!

So, for those of you keeping score...that's one review that said my dark humor makes it, another the story its self, and one for the depraved gore I inflict upon you. Really, now, what are you waiting for?

Order your own copy of my horrorcore masterpiece Heinous now!

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

HEINOUS is the Must Read of the Week at The Author Speaks

A few weeks ago I was lucky enough to get interviewed by author Eric Mays (he who wrote Naked Metamorphosis from the outstanding New Bizarro Author Series) on The Authors Speak Series. The interview was a blast as Eric is a great guy and fellow fan of scary-as-shit-horror and weird-as-shit-bizarro. And now, Mr. May's has not only reviewed my horrorcore novel, Heinous, but he went and made it 'The Must Read of the Week'!

Check out the interview and review and then getcha' some HEINOUS for yourself!

Saturday, May 7, 2011


My horrorcore masterpiece is now available!


Thursday, May 5, 2011

What 'THEY' Say About Heinous

I received my PROOF copy of Heinous this week and it was perfect! Next step is getting it live which should only take a few short days. In the meantime, I wanted to share the finished cover and the stellar collection of blurbs I've been fortunate enough to receive from some truly talented writers and just plain bad ass humans. I know people need to hear a book is incredible from at least five people before they will spend money on it. Well, here is people telling you how much Heinous rocks.

“Imagine looking out the window and seeing your infant child standing in the middle of a busy street. That sunken chest punch in the gut feeling is all I can compare HEINOUS with. Jonathan Moon shows no mercy.”-­-William Pauley III-­‐author of DOOM MAGNETIC! and The Brothers Crunk

"Uniquely disturbing, disturbingly unique"-­-­Jessica Brown-­‐ and

“Heinous will suck you in with its easy, lyrical style so that it can electroshock you with straight-­‐up gorgeous fear. Lines like, My memories are ghosts. Ghosts wrapped in barbed wire will haunt you to sleep. This book kicks ass. Jonathan Moon is one scary dude.”-­-­Kevin Shamel, author of Rotten Little Animals and Island of the Super People

"[HEINOUS is] A breakneck hell-­‐ride through the heart and mind of a rising talent. Once you're in, there's no stopping."--­David Dunwoody, author of EMPIRE'S END and UNBOUND & OTHER TALES

"Get to know a man named Gavin Wagner and his dark friend inside, HEINOUS. Heinous will possess you to keep turning the pages into his world, and it is a dark one. What starts out as a vivid nightmare twists its way into a brutal reality of depravity and violence. This novel jolts you into and out of reality in whiplashes of macabre dreamscapes and morbid intent. Jonathan Moon is a name in Horror to be reckoned with. His words bleed with dim adjectives that blanket the reader in a gloomy sense of dread. Moon skillfully guides you down a pitch black path...with something sinister waiting around every corner and for you, the reader... there is
no light."-­-­Jason Hughes, author of Without Notice and screen-writer of Dead Girls Don’t Cry

“From the haunting, mesmerizing opening to the stunning, pitch perfect conclusion, Mr. Moon weaves a tale of raw brutality and sheer terror that will stay with you long after you finish reading.In a word-­ Brilliant.“-­-­Bryan Hall,author of Containment Room Seven

"Like a claustrophobic nightmare, Jonathan Moon carves out a dark dreamscape filled with ghastly images and dark terror in Heinous."-­-­Bowie V. Ibarra,­author of the 'Down the Road' zombie series

“It’s like Jonathan Moon ripped out my inner child and beat it with a shovel. Heinous is also an early contender for horror novel of the year.”--­Timothy W. Long, author of The Zombie Wilson Diaries

So there you have it! Available VERY VERY SOON Heinous, Heinous, Heinous!!!

Friday, April 29, 2011


Hells yes! I have a story in the newest antho from The Library of Horror, Fearology.

Now, apparently there was so many great stories subbed for this one that Bill "Editor Extraordinaire" Tucker has put together 3 Fearologies! You can find my story 'The Fear Vs. The Need' in this first one. Check out the Toc then order yourself up one!

Fearology : Terrifying Tales of Phobias TOC

Stephanie Kincaid - Bursting With Nutty Goodness

Colin Harvey - Dark

C. C. Blake - I Own My Fears

Val Muller - Horrible Harry

Mark Souza - Relative Undertow

F. J. R. Titchenell - Gravity

Robert Guffey - Birth Of A Nation

Camille Alexa - Things From Things

Jonathan Moon - The Fear vs The Need

Merrill Catharine Hodnefield - Isobel And The Machine

Ken Goldman - Donny Doesn't Live Here Anymore

Joe Nazare - Bash

Quinn Hernandez - The Hell Behind Her Eyes

J. T. Seat - The Cock Collection

Gustavo Bondoni - Back In The Fold

Kody Boye - DJ Skippy Says Life Goes On

Order Fearology here!

The Self Mutilation Blues is up at The New Flesh!

My new short story, The Self Mutilation Blues, is up over at William Pauley III's incredible The New Flesh. The New Flesh is a fantastic place to read weird short stories. I'm proud to say William Pauley III is putting together an anthology of strange, and longer, pieces for a print edition of The New Flesh that we will be putting out under The Library of Bizarro Horror press banner later in the year. Swoop by to read The Self Mutilation Blues and stay and check out the TONS of other great stories by very talented weirdos!

Sunday, April 17, 2011

The Eerily Realistic Demise of Mr. Moon by Stephaine Kincaid

(A little bit of back ground....months ago a group of us on The Library of the Living Dead forum played a Murder Mystery game when I was the murderer! I tore my friends from the board into tiny wet pieces one by one while they tried to figure out who was behind the killings. Since I'm the nice guy I am I offered those I killed a chance to do the same to me and I would post it up here on the Monkey Faced Demon. Tim Long killed the hell outta me on my birthday. Zombie Zak is supposedly killing me soon. Mrs. Kincaid took it upon her self to kill me this morning...and she does a damn fine, if not personally terrifying job!)

Mr. Moon let forth a flood of expletives so venomous that his features seemed to melt away in the face of his vicious cursing, leaving only an overflowing potty mouth with nary a plunger in sight. There were curses that boomed and curses that tiptoed, curses that shone with demonic light, and curses so foul that a scent of sulfur floated in their wake. Small animals cowered in terror at the blasphemous filth pouring from his lips, and flowers wilted and blackened, blighted by the unholy pestilence of his utterances.
Borne on the torrent of filth was one word, one little syllable that warranted repeating in decent company.
But let’s back up a little, shall we?

It had been a pleasant evening for Moon. He’d been reviewing the latest edits for the re-release of his most deliciously foul work ever: Heinous, the story of a sadistic demon and the unfortunate boy he possesses. This version was longer, more brutal, and far more disturbing than the original. Sometimes, when he worked on the book into the wee hours, he even gave himself nightmares. Those were his favorite nights.
Tonight, however, would be an early night. Once he wrapped up the edits, he felt sure he’d rest in peace. He had no idea how right he was.
Moon clicked through the document, accepting the last few changes with a grin. He’d done it! Heinous was ready to go. He opened his email, all set to send a victorious message to his editor, only to discover that she was way ahead of him.
“From: Stephanie Kincaid,” he read. “Subject: CONGRATULATORY TENTACLES.”
Chuckling, he opened the message.
“Congrats on finishing Heinous,” it said. “Click here to retrieve your bouquet of a dozen writhing tentacles. Talk too you soon, Stephanie.”
“Weird,” muttered Moon. “Talk too you soon?” He’d never known Stephanie to make grammatical errors. Maybe she’d just made a typo in her excitement about the book. It was possible. But something about it didn’t sit well with him. Still … he could worry about his editor later. There were tentacles to be retrieved, damn it!
Moon was not one to pass up a single tentacle, let alone a dozen!
Especially when they were writhing.
The graphic to which he was redirected was adorable. Twelve chubby purple tentacles with lime-green suction cups, tied into a bouquet with a sweet pink bow, wiggled and waved in a merry little dance from the screen. In the background, a saccharine version of “If You’re Happy and You Know it” played nonstop, sung by a chorus of what might have been kindergarteners but might also have been elves on speed; Moon couldn’t quite tell—and wasn’t sure there was that much of a difference. It was at once the most grotesque email he’d ever received and the cutest. Even as he considered how very nauseating the song was—particularly this squeaky, smarmy incarnation of it—he found himself bobbing his head to what passed for a beat.
“Stephanie, you are one sick lady,” he said to his computer screen.
“You have no idea,” growled a voice from within the machine.
“What the hell?” Moon made a mental catalog of all the substances he’d ingested that day, but failed to turn up anything that would produce hallucinations of a gravelly-voiced computer-dwelling creature. It had been a slow day.
As he sat there, gaping at the computer, the image of the waving tentacles flickered, and the screen cracked—just a little at first, but a small crack in one corner soon became a spider web that covered the screen. All at once, the screen fell away with a horrible rasping sound, and a dozen slimy, sinewy tentacles—not nearly so cute now—burst from the machine and wrapped themselves around Moon’s torso, hoisting him into the air. The more he struggled, the tighter the tentacles gripped him, crushing him from all sides. He was sure he could feel his organs turning to pulp.
“Look on the bright side,” said a woman’s voice. “Your innards will make a lovely smoothie. High in protein, low in fat. Healthy and tasty.”
Beneath the desk on which the shattered remains of his computer lay, the floor seemed to fall away, exposing a pit that, from his airborne vantage point, looked forbiddingly deep. And from this pit crawled none other than the woman who had sent the email that started this nightmare.
“Stephanie?” Moon gasped. “Help me, please!” To his brain, scrambled as it was by panic and pain, the woman who had just climbed up into his home from the bowels of the earth … the woman whose appearance had been heralded by a dozen tentacles doing an excellent boa constrictor impersonation … the woman who wielded a red pen more vicious than a wolverine with PMS … this woman still looked like a friend.
Until, that is, she hoisted a wicked gleaming hook into the air. The short brunette had looked much less threatening on Facebook.
She waved the hook like a conductor’s baton, and five of the twelve tentacles released their hold on Moon. The other seven squeezed even tighter to compensate, and Moon had a sudden empathy for every stress toy ever manufactured. The five tentacles plunged into the pit and emerged bearing hooks just like Stephanie’s. She continued to weave her hook in intricate patterns, directing a balletic masterpiece in fear. The tentacles that held him turned him so that he dangled upside down and rearranged themselves to leave his head and torso exposed. Several tentacles held him by the legs; the rest bound his arms to limit his flailing. The tentacles with the hooks danced and swerved, ultimately poising themselves before Moon’s poor abused body. One waited right before his forehead, one before each eye, one over his heart, and one in front of his stomach.
Stephanie grinned with manic glee. “Any last words?” she asked, her tone mocking.
That was when the flood of expletives began. It ran its course until the lone sad syllable hung on the fear-charged air.
“Because you created me. And there’s only one way to be stronger than the one who made you.” The words came from Stephanie’s mouth, but the voice was not hers. And all at once, Moon knew. He knew the voice, recognized it from his own mind, from his nightmares. It was the voice of Heinous, the demon he himself had created.
In one fluid move, Stephanie swung her hook up and brained herself, the hook entering through one nostril and exiting through the top of her head. The crazy grin stayed plastered on her face. It was an unnerving sight made even more so by the fact that he was viewing it upside down.
“But … but …” stammered Moon, “you just killed your host.”
“Bitch kept correcting my grammar,” growled Heinous through Stephanie’s lips.
“But you need a living host!” Moon cried, spotting his opportunity. “You can’t survive in our plane of existence without a human to possess. I can save you!”
Heinous laughed, a sound more terrifying than the screams of all the souls in Hell. “Yeah, and I can’t travel via computer either, right? Or open a pit to Hell in the middle of your house, huh?”
The hooks before Moon’s eyes looked especially pointy. This wasn’t going well.
“You wanted an upgraded Heinous, right, Moon? Well, you got it. Meet Heinous 2.0,” the demon growled.
And the hooks struck home.

AWESOME! Uh, thanks for the slaughter, Steph! You can catch her chatting with Lori Titus and Tonia Brown right here.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Mr. Moon Interviews Patrick D'Orazio

I am very proud to bring you another Monkey Faced Demon interview with another one of my very talented brothers from The Library of the Living Dead, Patrick D'Orazio! Mr.D'Orazio is not only a friend but someone I've had the honor to share a ToC with a few times now (we both have killer stories in The Zombist and Houdini Gut Punch). Not only is he a friend but he is literally so talented it leaks from his ears in small streams (making him one of the most popular guys to sit next to at conventions). He is so prolific he was like, 'Debut novel, *scoff*, I'm doing a damned DEBUT TRILOGY and it's gonna frickin' rock!' Okay, I don't know if he ever had that verbalized inner dialogue but I like to imagine he did. With out any further jibber jabber, Patrick D'Orazio...

Q. I like to start these off with your influences. Who or what made you want to write?

A. Well, there are people who’ve influenced me, like family members and friends who have always encouraged my desire to read and write and to be creative in general, and also writers who know how to tell a story that sucks you in and leaves you gasping for more once the story is over. World builders who create intricate places that have blown my mind over the years and fill me with envy and the desire to do something similar, or at least take a shot at it. Of course, the horror influences include both movie makers like Romero and Carpenter as well as writers like King, Straub, and many others. But other independent writers out there also rock my socks off-the folks who just write for the joy of it, and may never know for sure if they will become household names and aren’t really worried about such things. They are the folks that keep me motivated day and night to get better and do something that matters to me, even if what I come up with doesn’t matter to anyone else.

Q. You’ve built up quite a resume of short stories. Can you give us a run down of ALL you short story appearances over the past few years as well as this year?

A. Well, actually, I’ve only been writing short stories that I’ve been trying to get published for a little over a year now, but here is the list of those published or to be published soon:
“I’m Sorry” appears in Letters from the Dead
“The Woeful Tale of Dalton McCoy” appears in The Zombist
“A Soldier’s Lament” appears in Eye Witness: Zombie
“Consumer’s Paradise” appears in Houdini Gut Punch
“Compulsion” appears in Daily Bites of Flesh 2011
“Humans Being Human” appears in Zombiality
“You Only Die Twice” appears in Doomology
“What A Fool Believes” will appear in Zombidays
“Little Lost Lamb” appear will appear in Deep Horror
“NZLB” will appear in Night of the Giving Dead
“The Seven Habits of Highly Successful Zombie Slayers” will appear in The Moron’s Guide to the Zombocalypse
“Hell in the Family” will appear in Groanology
“Slow Goth and St. North” will appear in No More Heroes
“Dog Days” will appear in Rapid Decomposition
“Swing Shift” will appear in Nocturnal Emissions
“What’s Eating You?” will appear in Groanology II
“The Intervention” will appear in A Glitch in the Continuum
“The Collective” will appear in Fearology III: Planting the Seeds of Terror
“Cicada” will appear in Zombie: The Other Fright Meat
“Victus Mortuus” will appear in Zombies without Borders
“VRZ” will appear in Look What I Found
“Legacy” will appear in appear in Live and Let Undead
“Animal Magnetism” will appear in a Collaboration of the Dead Anthology
and I am also a contributor of a couple of chapters to the novel project that is currently titled Collaboration of the Dead with a huge array of authors.

(Interviewer Note A: say it with me, "Dammmmmmn.')
(Interviewer Note B; I'm in Collaboration of the Dead too!)

Q. Fast zombies or slow zombies?

A. I wrote about slow zombies in my trilogy, but I am an equal opportunity fan of all types of zombies. Slow have the allure of being able to build that dread as they slowly close in, giving survivors the time to devour each other, at least figuratively, before the zombies ever get the chance to. But fast zombies have that adrenaline pumping, no one is getting out of this thing alive, type tempo to them that really freak me out as well. I plan on writing a few stories using fast zombies in the near future, because they fit with the narrative I am cooking up. So I guess fast or slow, it all depends on the setting and what works for the particular story is my wishy washy answer.

Q. Favorite zombie movie? Why?

A. Day of the Dead and Dawn of the Dead are neck and neck, but there are so many that make the list of really great movies. The remake of Dawn revitalized my passion for zombies after a few years away from them, so it gets honorable mention along with 28 Days Later. But it almost seems unfair, because there are a lot of movies that have contributed to my love affair of zombies like Shaun of the Dead, Return of the Living Dead, Dead Alive…and of course, Night of the Living Dead. So I suppose I am being wishy washy once again in making a firm choice as one absolute best movie.

Q. Can you tell us about the Dark Trilogy?

A. No! Er, sorry, I always wanted to say that when asked in an interview. Actually, I can, but instead of giving a synopsis of the plot, I think I would rather focus on what I was trying to do, which was to pay respect to what really drew me to zombies and zombie stories in the first place-the human dynamic. Developing real characters who don’t know what the hell they’re doing as the world falls apart all around them. I think that drew me to what Romero created in Night and Dawn of the Dead, and it really walloped me when I watched them for the first time and the hundredth time. It really hit home when I saw Day of the Dead even more so. You can hate certain people for acting the way they do, but to say that they’re completely wrong for trying to do whatever they need to so they can survive, even if it seems evil on the surface, makes it all the more fascinating to me. No one comes out of this mess unscathed, and most won’t come out of it alive…that is what drove me on with this story. Everyone is shattered, not only by the dead rising up all around them, but by what they are forced to do, and what they are forced to accept about themselves and what it takes to stay alive.

Q. What are you working on right now?

A. I am working on another short story for an anthology called Soul Survivors, while at the same time working on another book set in the same universe as my Dark Trilogy, though it will stand separately from the trilogy. I have some other novel concepts in the works as well that I am outlining and writing up a few chapters for…the key for me is trying to stay centered on a single project at a time, which can be tricky. Too many ideas, too little time.

Q. How far would you make it through Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory?

A. Willy would be my bitch. I have thousands of ideas for uses for chocolate and candy that he never even dreamed up. The Department of Defense has contacted me about some of those ideas, so I can’t speak about them publicly. Old Willy, he would kick me out before I got through the front door of the place because I would have already schooled his Wonky Wonka ass the first moment I saw him.

(Interviewer Note: He who controls the chocolate controls the world.)

Q. Who is your ALL-TIME favorite bad guy from film or book?

A. Well, there are two of them, for different reasons. Randall Flagg from The Stand and the entire Dark Tower series of books, because Stephen created someone that was persistent and remained an influence across worlds, across realities, and tore that shit up. He keeps cropping up, like a bad penny, and has different names, different images, but he is always someone who will mess with your head more than anyone else.
Another one that isn’t necessarily a bad guy, but I loved what he did was The Mule from Isaac Asimov’s Second Foundation, because all he did was disrupt everyone in an entire galaxy’s and their view of how things should be-he knocked everything off kilter from some perfect plan of the future and of history. He stirred things up in an epic way, which I guess makes him a bad guy in a lot of ways. But it also makes him cool as hell. Screw all the math, because there will always be some fly who gets in the ointment and makes a mess of all your pretty little toys.

Q. Seriously, what are the odds of an actual Zombie Apocalypse?
A. I give odds as about fifty-fifty that someone will come up with some sort of prion based assault on us that turns most of us into maniacs. Then again, the term “zombie” can be applied loosely to about two-thirds of the population already, so maybe it has already happened and we just don’t realize it yet. They don’t have to eat your brains for you to turn into a walking lump of stupidity…you just have to let it happen. Most of us are more than happy to do just that.

Q. Who said, ‘You said it yourself, Dude, She kidnapped herself.’ ?

A. I don’t answer that question on Shabbos! I don’t answer that question, and I sure as hell don’t roll on Shomer shabbos!

(Interviewer Note: I am so buying you a White Russian when we go bowlin'.)

Q. Aside form being an author you’ve been a dedicated and honest reviewer of independent works. Where do you think Independent Horror will be in three and a half years?

A. Wow…well, I can base my answer on what has happened over the past four or five years. There has been an explosion of more stuff out there, both bad and good, because it has become that much easier to produce your own stuff, but at the same time, some of the smaller publishers have become more main stream with their offerings by partnering with bigger publishers (like Permuted Press has done). The smarter big guys might think about creating smaller, independent partners, like movie studios have done, where some big studio has an art house wing that gives smaller budget offerings more exposure while still maintaining their indy cred. But who knows if they’ll catch on? I think more small press writers will make it big, but do it on their own terms. There are authors out there self-publishing and getting in with smaller presses that are making a name for themselves just by being on facebook, twitter, and having fans who spread the word for them far and wide. They get on message boards and they toss out samples of their work and they are just as good, if not better, than some of the big names out there. They don’t write for a demographic or because this or that is “in” right now, they write what they want to write and to hell with whether or not it finds an audience. Good stuff finds an audience that craves what they write, because it goes against the grain and doesn’t fit into some sort of pigeonhole. Again, not all of it is good, but it’s amazing how far someone can go these days without having the big guns of a huge publishing house behind them. Electronic books will continue to expand the field. How easy is it to buy a book for $.99 to $2.99 for the nook or kindle instead of shelling out $20 for some big named authors work? That will keep things rocking. I think there will be exponential change. The big houses will adapt and modify their approach, while the little guys keep thinking of new ways to get their stuff out there without being beholden to any of them.

Q. Quick, name drop five great Indy Horror writers!

A. I could name a lot more than that, but here goes, off the top of my head: Tony Monchinski, Craig DiLouie, William Todd Rose, David Dunwoody, and Tonia Brown. I hate leaving out the tons of other great writers that I have devoutly followed and enjoyed, but they were the first ones that came to mind.


Q. Now, I happen to know you are almost as much of a fan of Science Fiction as you are of Zombies. So let’s mix things up a bit and give you a good gory Sci-Fi DEATHMATCH….

Deep in the 8th Dimension Buckaroo Banzi is cruising with his band of merry men (A.K.A. The Hong Kong Cavilers) are blasting to Earth to perform a rock concert as only they can. A sudden explosion rocks the ship, descending the crew into chaos. The smoke clears and there stands Dr. Emilio Lizardo surrounded by four of those nasty H.R. Geiger inspired, Sigourney Weaver tormenting Aliens!

In 1000 words (give or take) describe the carnage and the out come!

A. Immediately, Buckaroo and the Cavaliers see right through the aliens because they’ve all travelled through the eight dimension and recognize them as the Red Lectroids they really are. Lord John Whorfin (aka Emilio Lizardo), John Yaya, John Bigboote, John Gomez and John O’Connor don’t realize Buckaroo and crew recognize them and start spitting up some of the battery acid they’ve been drinking to stick with the alien imagery they’ve chosen.
Whorfin goes into his tired spiel about demanding the Oscillation Overthruster from Banzai so he can rescue his buddies from the 8th Dimension and they can get back to Planet 10, or he’ll sick the aliens on the Cavaliers. Buckaroo tells him that Planet 10 was sent through an interdimensional warp and the Black Lectroids are now cast members of The Jersey Shore, so they can get revenge on them if they stick around on earth rather than trying to get back to their home planet.
Whorfin and the other John’s take off and head to the shore, then proceed to beat the snot out of Snookie, The Situation, and all the other douche nozzles on the TV show. Since they still look like aliens to everyone watching on MTV, the network immediately signs them up for a five season revival of Celebrity Death Match/The Real World, where they end up killing everyone from every different reality show on television, as well as Springer, the Maury show, and all those damn Judge shows that play during the day. The ratings are through the roof, with the week where they shove a cattle prod up one of Sanjaya’s (from American Idol) orifices it surpasses ratings for the Super Bowl.
Whorfin and the John’s get jaded with their celebrity status and the fact that Buckaroo Banzai and the Honk Kong Cavaliers still outsell them in comic books, concert revenue, and t-shirt sales, so they plan on taking them on once again, and challenge them to a throw down on their TV show.
Buckaroo, who is scheduled to remove a malignant brain tumor from the President’s brain, refuses at first, but the John’s kidnap Penny Priddy once again and Buckaroo is forced to come up with a way to rescue her. Disguising himself as a Hollywood agent, Perfect Tommy meets with John Whorfin and tells him that NBC is creating a remake of Third Rock from the Sun, but this time Dick Solomon has been replaced by the Trinity Killer from the Fourth Season of Dexter, and they want him for the role. Whorfin refuses at first, but Tommy promises him that he will be able to kill at least one “monkey boy” a week if he signs up for the show and backs out of his MTV contract. Whorfin agrees and ditches the other John’s. MTV sues, but by then Whorfin has already joined Charlie Sheen on his Violent Torpedo of Truth Tour to promote the new show and has let Penny go because Charlie tells him that she doesn’t have Adonis DNA and is a troll in disguise. Then Whorfin proceeds to kill everyone at MTV, because they no longer play music freakin’ videos, like they did when the Buckaroo movie came out back in the eighties.
Buckaroo realizes that the idea of the show that Perfect Tommy came up with is actually a pretty good idea and invests in it and convinces the people on Spike TV to air it. It goes on to win an Emmy for best comedy and Whorfin gets a Golden Globe for best actor. Buckaroo and him go on to become good friends and work together to invent a new and improved Oscillation Overthruster that will take them to the eleventh dimension, which is just like the tenth dimension, only louder.
To be continued…

Son of a BITCH, Patrick! How can you leave a 'To be continued...? Why, man, why? You just made my OCD flare up like a damned tire and broken pallet bonfire!
Thanks for the fantastic interview and the OCD attack, Mr. D'Orazio!

You can find Patrick on his blog here.

You can buy his books (and some of his antho appearances) here.

NEXT UP...sometime...Jordan 'Boss' Krall!!!!!

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Mr. Moon's Review of Sins and Tragedies

Sins and Tragedies

By The Staff of the Dark Fiction Show.

Sins and Tragedies is an anthology composed of three stories apiece from Stephen W. Roberts, JD Stone, Staci Bolli, and Thadd Presley (with a wicked sick cover by Chuck Hodi). As you should very well expect from the staff of something called The Dark Fiction Show the fiction here is indeed dark, horrific, and well written.

Stephen W. Roberts is the only one of the four I have read before as Mr. Roberts and I have both been contributors on Jason Baker’s Abandoned 1, 2, and 3. He has a style that is poetic and beautifully grim. Each of his three stories here (‘A Voice Within’, ‘Rose’s Roses’, and ‘Clutch My Heart Nevermore) are great examples of his style as each drips with grace and menace. The horror in these 3 stories is emotionally taunt and naturally gripping.

JD Stone writes his form of classic horror with wonderful descriptions and great action. His stories here (‘Glass Atrophy’, ‘Phantom Weight’, and ‘Cursed Blessing’) all took me back to the horror stories by King, Koonz, and Straub from my youth in that each is well told, features well developed characters, and are very immersing. Stone shows a confidence that enables him to drag you from everyday America to the streets of India and then to the deepest thralls of terror seamlessly.

The three stories from Staci Bolli (‘Momma’s Boy’, ‘Toilet Troubles’, and ‘Music of the Swamp’) are all three quite different from each other. She manages to write with a gentle wit that never draws from the horror of each story yet almost gives you a false sense of ease before the terror of inner turmoil drowns you. Bolli is a brave new female voice in horror that is unafraid to make you cringe, cry, or laugh.

Thadd Presly’s stories impressed me the most as they are vivid and fearless in looking at the monsters inside of human-kind. His style is dark (everyone knows I like the darkness), raw, and brutal. His three stories (‘The Treatment’, ‘Shallow Grave’, and ‘Halloween’) are each explicit and unsettling character studies in the abyss of human depravity.

As with most anthologies I enjoyed some stories more than others (and a few even left me flat) but taken in as a whole Sins and Tragedies is a good collection of varying horror tales that captures many of the things that made us all fall in love with the darkness. No matter if you like your horror dripping with gore, story, or emotion these talented writers got you covered with Sins and Tragedies.

Snag yourself a copy here!