Publishers Weekly on THE HAUNTED FOREST TOUR

Publishers Weekly reviews THE HAUNTED FOREST TOUR in the next (Oct. 1st) issue...and they didn't like it.

"Underplotted and overstuffed with grisly mayhem, this extreme horror extravaganza unfolds like an exhibit at the supernatural theme park in which it's set.....a splattery feeding frenzy.....Moore and Strand devote considerable effort and energy to ghoulishly inventive descriptions of dismemberment, disembowelment and death, but the relentlessness of the carnage and the casualness with which the monsters dispose of even major characters quickly pall.....this story is intended primarily to be a simple bloody monster mash."

Hey, I'd buy that!

Heavy boxes of books are on their way to Earthling Publications at this very moment, and it should ship in plenty of time for Halloween.

http://www.earthlingpub.com/jmjs_forest.htm

The First HAUNTED FOREST TOUR Review

Actually, there are three HAUNTED FOREST TOUR reviews out there that I'm aware of (I'll share the other two shortly) but the Fear Zone review appeared first, so I'll start with that one.

It's a very insightful, in-depth review by J.G. Faherty, not all positive, rating the book 8.5 out of 10, with the following awesome quote: "If you enjoyed SHAUN OF THE DEAD in the theaters, you'll absolutely love this book." I'd rather get a thoughtful review with a couple of gripes than a "Jeff Stand is the next Steven King!" all-out rave, and while I might disagree with one major point (maybe just as the overprotective co-father of the baby that is being discussed) it's a well-done review and shows great promise for the new Fear Zone site.

Check it out right here:

http://www.fearzone.com/blog/book-review-the-haunted-forest-tour

Five For Writing

Okay, so I'm going to declare this blog a G________ M______ T____-free zone for the next...I dunno, few days or so.

In the meantime, Richard Dansky has a lovely feature on his website where he does very short interviews with writers, called Five For Writing. You can check out my interview (which is also a G________ M______ T____-free zone) right here:

http://www.richarddansky.com/index_2.htm

What Sucks Too Much For Even Saturday Night Live?

Yesterday I saw a Saturday Night Live Best of 2006/2007 DVD, which contains "two unaired skits that were cut after the dress rehearsal." That is an absolutely terrifying thought. How unspeakably awful, how jaw-droppingly wretched, how mind-numbingly atrocious does a skit have to be for Saturday Night Live producers to say "Nope, doesn't meet our standards." On those unfortunate occasions when I watch the show, I'm actually embarrassed for the performers, as they read cue cards containing the lamest comedy material imaginable.

I mean, I guess deep inside I knew that some skits didn't make the final show, but I just can't comprehend the sheer level of suck that must be required for a skit to go unused. Does anybody volunteer to check it out and report back?

---

Gleefully Macabre Tales had a great first day of sales (if they hadn't boosted the print run literally the weekend before it went up for pre-order, they'd be gone, baby, gone). If you haven't placed your order yet, do so quick, so that a) you don't miss out, and b) I don't repeat the "Socially Awkward Moments With An Aspiring Lunatic" madness, where I almost sold out in two days, but then those last few frickin' copies took three more days to move. Shane at Delirium doesn't need any more "Are they gone yet???" e-mails.

Also, I didn't mention this before, but you can get your copy of Gleefully Macabre Tales personalized! There's no extra charge for this, but it does require payment up front (otherwise, no prepayment is required) just in case I sign it "To My Sweet Pooky Lovey Bumps!" and you cancel your order, forcing us to scour the globe for somebody named Pooky Lovey Bumps. Just choose that option when you're ordering, right here:

https://www.deliriumbooks.com/catalog/product.php?productid=70

Feeling Macabre? GLEEFULLY Macabre?

"The most important thing to know about Jeff Strand's work is that just because it's funny doesn't mean it isn't scary and disturbing. It does those things better than most horror fiction around. The laughs just make it more palatable and much more enjoyable.

"Most thriller writers use humor as a device to break tension so they can build it back up again. Strand uses humor more subversively. He disarms readers by making them laugh and let their guard down, then hits them in the gut with something really, really nasty so their chuckle of amusement becomes a gasp of horror. His careful structuring makes humor and horror work together and complement each other."

--Cemetery Dance

Ready to find an efficient way to unload the truck filled with dead babies? In the mood to giggle at the sight of your own blood? Well, ladies and gentlemen, my ghoulishly funny short story collection, Gleefully Macabre Tales, is now available for pre-order from Delirium Books! As with The Sinister Mr. Corpse, it's expected to sell out quickly, so save the procrastination for tax time or you might miss out!

Tales include...

"Really, Really Ferocious" (the infamous "wiener dog" story)

"Socially Awkward Moments With An Aspiring Lunatic" (from the long-sold-out chapbook)

"Them Old West Mutations" (just a good old-fashioned "giant man-eating cockroaches in the Old West" yarn)

"One of Them" (a young boy visits a most unpleasant carnival freak show indeed...)

"Roasting Weenies by Hellfire" (sort of like Home Alone, but with lots of splatter, a zombie, and the devil)

A grisly and disturbing version of "The Three Little Pigs"

"Mr. Sensitive" (a leg-crossing, cringe-inducing cautionary tale)

"BrainBugs" (they're in there...squirming around...)

"The Socket" (sorry...this one's sick!)


"Special Features" (it may be the last DVD commentary track you ever listen to)

"Werewolf Porno" and "Sex Potion #147" (from the sold-out chapbook Funny Stories of Scary Sex)

Gracious! There's even more...

A couple of serious tales: "Glimpses" and "Abbey's Shriek"

A double feature of holiday silliness: "Howard, the Tenth Reindeer" and "Howard Rises Again"

A transcript of my 2006 and 2007 World Horror Convention Gross-Out Contest entries (complete with embarrassed author commentary)

And there's even more amusing depravity! "High Stakes." "Wasting Grandpa." "A Bite for a Bite." "Bad Coffee." "An Admittedly Pointless But Mercifully Brief Story With Aliens In It." "Munchies." "I Hold the Stick." "Scarecrow's Discovery." "Cap'n Hank's Five Alarm Nuclear Lava Wings." "The Bad Candy House." And yes, even more! (Six more, actually.)

Not to mention a few pages of story notes at the back of the book, for those of you who are into that sort of thing.

Gleefully Macabre Tales is limited to 300 signed, numbered hardcover copies. Reserve your copy (no prepayment required; you won't be charged until the book ships) right here:

https://www.deliriumbooks.com/catalog/product.php?productid=70&cat=1

"Strand is perhaps best known for his skill at balancing humorous and horrific elements in one tale. 'Socially Awkward Moments with an Aspiring Lunatic' showcases that rare talent wonderfully." -- Craig's Book Club

"This story is gross, funny, scary, and just plain disturbing. Jeff Strand is brilliant and he should be locked away." -- [dis]Orderly Reviews on "Mr. Sensitive"

"Bust-your-gut funny. Strand isn't only off his rocker here, he's out of his freakin' mind!" -- The Horror Fiction Review on "Funny Stories of Scary Sex"

"A solid, hands down, this-is-why-I-love-chapbooks five stars out of five." -- Horror-Web on "Socially Awkward Moments With An Aspiring Lunatic"

"Author Strand has the delightful ability to ladle out laughter and horror in heaping helpings, and these stories offer both fun and fear in equally large doses." -- Horror Reader on "Funny Stories of Scary Sex."

"More graphically violent and bloody stories, such as Jeff Strand's, are not for the faint of heart, or those who don't enjoy their daily dose of gore." -- Romantic Times on "Abbey's Shriek." (Yes, Romantic Times.)

Jeff Saves The City (Or Dooms It)

[RECAP: Though Gleefully Macabre Tales has been saved and Mumblecrust defeated, there's still a frickin' bomb about to go off...but not if Jeff can figure out the password in one (1) minute!]

JEFF: What could it be? What could be it? "Password?" "Mumblecrust?" "Vivacious?" "Bueller?" "Conjugate?" "Gorgonzola?" "Keene?" "Afterbirth?" "Chow chow chow?" "Mayhem?" "Red Vines Original Red Twists?" "All Purpose Monkey?" "Beef?" "Carbohydrate?" "Netflix?"

ROBOTIC VOICE: You have ten seconds remaining. If you require additional time, please press "1" now.

[Jeff presses "1."]

ROBOTIC VOICE: Please enter the password for obtaining additional time.

JEFF: [Seventeen simultaneous expletives deleted.]

ROBOTIC VOICE: Nine seconds. Eight. Seven. Six. Five.

JEFF: I have to type something...but what???

ROBOTIC VOICE: Four. Three. Two.

JEFF: I'll type....uh......LUV THANG!!!

ROBOTIC VOICE: One...

[Jeff frantically types in the password.]

[Silence.]

ROBOTIC VOICE: Did you really guess "Luv Thang" as the password?

JEFF: Uh, yeah.

ROBOTIC VOICE: Thousands of lives at stake, and you guess "Luv Thang?"

JEFF: Was I right?

ROBOTIC VOICE: No you weren't right, dumbass! The password was "Mumblecrust." What the hell else did you think it was going to be? You put the fate of this entire city in the hands of "Luv Thang." Now I'm just depressed. I can't even muster up the enthusiasm to blow up. Screw it all. I don't need this.

JEFF: So I saved the city?

ROBOTIC VOICE: Yeah, yeah...well, no, I guess I should get over it. Detonation in five...four...three...two....AAARRRRGGHHH!!!!

[The kittens pounce upon the bomb, tearing it to bits.]

JEFF: Wow. It's all over. The Mumblecrust saga has ended. The bad guys are dead, Gleefully Macabre Tales is saved and will go up for pre-order in, like, an hour and a half, several of my blog readers have achieved immortality, and the kittens are well-fed. All in all, it was a very successful adventure. Okay, I'm a bit bummed that Michael McBride is dead, but aside from that, all's well that ends well!

READER #237: You know, if you wanted to promote your short story collection, you could've just bought an ad.

JEFF: D'oh!!!


- The End -

The Final Showdown!!!

JEFF: This is the moment of truth! If I hurry, I can catch Tiberius and save Gleefully Macabre Tales once and for all!

[His cell phone rings.]

JEFF: Hugo's Post-Homicide Clean-Up. You pop 'em, we mop 'em.

SHANE: Hey, Jeff, it's Shane Ryan Staley of Delirium Books. Know how you were having all those problems with Mumblecrust and stuff? Well, I was cleaning out my car, and I found an extra copy of Gleefully Macabre Tales wedged under the back seat. So we're good to go.

JEFF: Really? That's cool. And yet oddly anticlimactic.

SHANE: Eh, I think the whole Mumblecrust thing has run its course. Your blog readers will be happy that it's all over.

JEFF: Yeah, I guess so. Thanks for the update.

SHANE: No prob. Later gator!

[Jeff hangs up.]

JEFF: Hmmm. All's well that ends well, I guess.

[The phone rings again.]

SHANE: Jeff? Shane again. I forgot to tell you--that Tiberius guy called a couple of minutes ago, something about a mini-nuke that's going to wipe out the city. He was kind of vague, but I think you have exactly twenty-four hours.

JEFF: Thank you.

[Jeff hangs up.]

JEFF: So, Mumblecrust has gotten in one last act of evil. Though Gleefully Macabre Tales has been saved, the city has not! I must stop Tiberius in twenty-four hours!

24:00...

[The phone rings again.]

SHANE: Jeff? Shane. I meant twenty-four minutes.

00:24...

JEFF: I can still stop him! I must find a vehicle. This Volkswagen here has the keys in the ignition, but it's not exactly a "save the city" kind of car, is it? I've got time to look around for something better.

00:07...

JEFF: Okay, I'll take the Volkswagen.

[He leaps into the Volkswagen, starts the engine, and speeds off after Tiberius.]

TIBERIUS: Man, the red lights in this city take freakin' forever.

[He sees Jeff in the rear-view mirror.]

TIBERIUS: Fudge!

[He speeds through the red light, with Jeff in hot pursuit.]

00:06...

JEFF: Oh my God! He's headed right for those kittens!!!

TIBERIUS: Hahahahaha! I'm headed right for those kittens!!!

[He smashes into the kittens. Tiberius is thrown through the front windshield and bashes against a brick wall.]

TIBERIUS: Those are some sturdy kittens.

[The kittens attack! Tiberius shrieks in pain as their tiny little claws rip his flesh apart.]

TIBERIUS: Honey kitties! Honey kitties!

JEFF: Give me the mini-nuke, Tiberius.

TIBERIUS: I don't have it on me. Duh. It's back at my lab.

JEFF: Dammit!

00:05...

[Jeff returns to the lab.]

JEFF: But where? Where?

00:04...

[Jeff returns to the brick wall.]

JEFF: But where? Where?

TIBERIUS: Mmmmfff rrrrrffffff.

JEFF: Spit that kitten out.

[Tiberius gestures frantically. Jeff plucks the kitten from his mouth.]

TIBERIUS: I didn't put it there on purpose!

JEFF: Where in your lab is the mini-nuke?

TIBERUS: On my desk. Next to the kim chee.

JEFF: What's kim chee?

TIBERIUS: Fermented cabbage from Korea.

JEFF: Why is there kim chee on your desk?

TIBERIUS: It's good.

00:03

JEFF: There's the fermented cabbage...but how do I know it's from Korea? Damn!

00:02

JEFF: Tiberius, how can I be sure that it's genuine kim chee?

TIBERIUS:

JEFF: The kittens killed him! Which in a way is good because his blood stains their paws and not my hands, so I get a free pass on this one, conscience-wise, but how will I stop the nuke in time?

00:01

JEFF: There it is! But where's the off switch? Where could it be? Where in the world could it--oh, wait, there it is.

[He pushes the "off" button.]

COMPUTER-GENERATED VOICE: Please enter the deactivation password.

JEFF: [Very, very loud expletive deleted]!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To be concluded...

Psst....want an unfair advantage to be sure that you get your copy of Gleefully Macabre Tales while the other slackers miss out? Click here to find out exactly when it goes on sale:

http://www.deliriumbooks.com/insider/?p=350

The Mystery Voice Revealed!!!

PREVIOUSLY ON THIS BLOG...

Jeff Strand, author, was kidnapped by members of the fearsome Mumblecrust organization. For several days their reprehensible leader posted on Jeff's blog in a most unkind manner with a questionable choice of font color. Finally, Jeff made a dramatic escape...but Mumblecrust had sabotaged the publication of his short story collection Gleefully Macabre Tales and stolen the master CD with the only copy of the manuscript! Those bastards!

Vowing that his loyal readers would not be forced to wallow in self-pity, Jeff set off to retrieve his book. He visited the home of Herman Dorkins, and with the help of his wisest readers he poked a great big hole in Herman's claims of innocence--and shot him in self-defense. Then he shot him a few more times in cold blood. Jeff then went after the evil Rupert Munch, who also perished at the end of the encounter. Was Jeff becoming the kind of murderous fiend he despised so much...?

Jeff flew to Tokyo using his Delirium Books expense account and visited the Sect of the Wriggling Serpent, to confront Jennifer Grissom. Much saucy naughtiness ensued, but thanks again to his clever readers, Jeff survived the encounter and returned home to confront Mumblecrust's leader, Tiberius Grinchdirt, which, in retrospect, would've been a much better place to START the investigation. The evil Tiberius revealed that he had Gleefully Macabre Tales, but also an army of the undead to unleash upon the unsuspecting populace! Jeff foolishly decided to forego the assistance of his loyal readers, and gave the wrong answer to Tiberius' baffling logic puzzle.

All seems lost for Jeff and his upcoming collection...but, hark, a surprise visitor has arrived!

JEFF / TIBERIUS: It's...YOU!!!

MICHAEL McBRIDE: Hello, Jeff. Hello, Tiberius.

JEFF: Michael McBride! You're the author of Chronicles of the Apocalypse: Species, God's End, and The Infected!

MICHAEL: Also Zero.

JEFF: Right. Also Zero. That was a good one.

MICHAEL: And Blood Wish.

JEFF: Not really necessary to share your entire bibliography, Mike.

MICHAEL: I'm here to help you. You have done terrible, terrible things on your journey. You have taken human lives. You have shamelessly bumped message board threads. You have immersed yourself so deeply into this quest that you didn't even blog about the season premiere of Survivor: China.

JEFF: Man, that blonde chick with the eye makeup is a bee-yotch, isn't she?

MICHAEL: Nor did you blog about Kid Nation.

JEFF: Don't f***ing tell people I watched Kid Nation! What's the matter with you???

MICHAEL: You've become somebody else, Jeff. Whatever happened to that lovable scamp who didn't have a psychotic glow in his eyes? Whatever happened to the Jeff Strand who didn't have bloodstains on his jeans? We used to be able to carry on a conversation without you screaming "I'll kill Mumblecrust! I'll kill 'em! Kill 'em kill 'em kill 'em kiiiiiiiiilllllllll them!!!" I miss those days.

JEFF: I...I miss them too.

MICHAEL: Then bring them back! Gleefully Macabre Tales isn't everything! I mean, no offense, but it's certainly no 20th Century Ghosts.

JEFF: So you're saying that it doesn't really matter if nobody ever gets to read it?

MICHAEL: It matters a little bit, but was it really worth stabbing that guy to death? Can you truly look into my eyes and tell me that this is a book worth killing for?

JEFF: I guess not. Did you kill anybody for Chronicles of the Apocalypse?

MICHAEL: Oh, hell yeah. For Chronicles of the Apocalypse I drove a bus filled with orphaned schoolchildren and puppies off a cliff. But apples and oranges, man. Apples and oranges.

JEFF: You're right. I've taken this too far. I'm going to go home, forget about Gleefully Macabre Tales, and start on Pressure II.

MICHAEL: Now, now, now...what have we forgotten?

JEFF: Dunno.

MICHAEL: Think.

JEFF: Um....the zombies?

MICHAEL: That's right.

JEFF: I've only got a push-pin.

MICHAEL: In the hands of a brave man, even the smallest weapon can kill a zombie. Let's go!

[Jeff and Michael run from zombie to zombie, poking them in the head with the push-pin. There's one scary moment where Jeff is almost bit, but Michael pokes the zombie in the nick of time. Zombie after zombie after zombie after zombie fall re-dead to the ground.]

JEFF: Only one zombie remains, but it's the KING zombie, and it will require all of our might and--

MICHAEL: Got 'im.

JEFF: Cool.

TIBERIUS: Curse you, Michael McBride and sidekick! You may have defeated my zombie army, but you'll never find Gleefully Macabre Tales!

JEFF: That's okay, Tiberius Grinchdirt. Because I've learned from my experience. It's just a book. The world will be fine without it.

[Jeff and Michael start to walk off into the sunset.]

JEFF: And so, loyal blog readers, the Mumblecrust saga ends. Though I can't help but feel a bit disappointed that the world will never read my short story collection, I know, deep inside, that my humanity is more important than any--

[A gunshot. Michael cries out and drops to the ground.]

TIBERIUS: Hahahahaha!

[Tiberius has a gun in one hand and a CD in the other.]

TIBERIUS: You'll never catch me, Strand!

[Tiberius jumps into a blue 1985 Plymouth Caravelle and speeds off. Jeff crouches down next to his friend.]

JEFF: Michael!

MICHAEL: I'm so cold...so cold...

JEFF: You're gonna be fine, buddy! You'll make it! I promise!

[Michael coughs and shakes his head.]

MICHAEL: It's too late for me. Promise me...promise me that you'll take care of my children...

JEFF [in tears]: I will. I swear I will.

MICHAEL: ...make sure all four of them go to a good college....

JEFF: Four of them? Crap.

[Michael takes out a piece of paper and presses it into Jeff's hand.]

MICHAEL: ...here's their Christmas list...

JEFF: You can't die! You just can't!

MICHAEL: ...promise me one more thing...you'll KILL that bastard...

JEFF: I will! I promise!

MICHAEL: ...you must avenge me...and the best way to do so is to stop at nothing to ensure that Gleefully Macabre Tales goes up for pre-order as scheduled, and that it sells out ASAP!

JEFF: I swear it!

MICHAEL: ...go Colorado Avalanche...

[Michael McBride dies, quadrupling the value of his limited edition novels.]

JEFF: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[He wipes tears from his eyes, then angrily looks off in the direction that Tiberius drove away.]

JEFF: Ladies and gentleman, it's bloodshed time!

To be continued...

The Gleefully Macabre Mystery, Part IV

The moment had finally arrived. It seemed like years ago that I began this ridiculous promo campaign noble quest to reclaim Gleefully Macabre Tales, but now I stood in front of the door of the leader of Mumblecrust. I had a good feeling about this. Delirium Books would certainly be able to publish Gleefully Macabre Tales in a hardcover limited edition of 250 copies (the same print run as The Sinister Mr. Corpse, and you know how fast those babies went), perhaps in the vicinity of Tuesday, September 25th.

My good feeling vanished as the door opened, and there stood Tiberius Grinchdirt. He stood in his bloodstained lab coat, a drill in his hand, a gleefully macabre grin on his face. I shuddered.

TIBERIUS: Welcome, Mr. Strand. Have you come to reclaim your precious book? Or have you come to gape upon my ghastly experiments?

JEFF: The book one. I can only assume that your ghastly experiments have created grisly abominations and ghoulish abberations unsuitable for viewing by the human eye!

TIBERIUS: Indeed! But you will gape, Mr. Strand, lest I poke you with my drill!

[He waves the drill in a poking fashion. Terrified beyond all reasonable measures, Jeff enters the lab...and gasps.]

JEFF: Oh my gosh...

TIBERIUS: Gosh has nothing to do with this place! I am your gosh now!

JEFF: You've created an army of zombies!

TIBERIUS: I have created oh-so-much more than that! I have indeed created an army of zombies, along the lines of the zombies in George Romero's Night of the Living Dead and its respective sequels! But I have also created an army of the Infected, along the lines of the zombies in 28 Days Later and its respective sequel!

JEFF: Those weren't really zombies. Those were infected people.

TIBERIUS: They were zombies! And I have also created an army of the Possessed, along the lines of the zombies in The Evil Dead and its respective sequels!

JEFF: Again, not really zombies...

TIBERIUS: They're zombies, bitch! Zombies, the Infected, and the Possessed! An army of the undead that will never be stopped!

JEFF: Do they all eat brains?

TIBERIUS: No. The members of my first army of the undead love to eat kidneys.

JEFF: Gross.

TIBERIUS: Yeah, but it's better than spiking somebody's drink and forcing them to wake up in a bathtub of ice with "Call 911" written in lipstick on their chest, don't you think?

JEFF: Sorta. So were Romero-inspired Zombies your first creation?

TIBERIUS: No. I created the Zombie army third.

JEFF: So which army eats brains?

TIBERIUS: None of them. But the Infected eat intestines.

JEFF: Naturally they would. So, Tiberius Grinchdirt, you've created three separate armies of the undead! When do you plan for them to march upon society and devour it?

TIBERIUS: I've got some behavior issues to sort out first. The Possessed and the things that eat hearts despise each other.

JEFF: Can I have Gleefully Macabre Tales back?

TIBERIUS: Isn't that the one with the back-cover copy that sort of sounds like this:

Cemetery Dance magazine says that "No author working today comes close to Jeff Strand's perfect mixture of comedy and terror." Gleefully Macabre Tales compiles his most twisted blends of cringe-worthy horror and ghoulish humor, with a couple of serious pieces thrown in just to mess with you.

This collection includes tales from his three chapbooks (Two Twisted Nuts, Socially Awkward Moments With An Aspiring Lunatic, and Funny Stories of Scary Sex) and numerous other stories both popular and obscure, including "Really, Really Ferocious" (the one with the wiener dog), "High Stakes" (the one with the slot machine), "Roasting Weenies by Hellfire" (the one with Satan), "The Bad Candy House" (the one with a very unpleasant old man at Halloween) and "The Socket" (the one with the eyeball socket).

It also includes two of his entries in the World Horror Convention gross-out contest. But you don't want to read them.

So if you're looking to laugh, gasp, gag, or do all three at the same time, making sort of a weird sound that hurts your lungs and elicits odd glances from nearby pedestrians, don't miss Gleefully Macabre Tales!

JEFF: Yes!

TIBERIUS: Then you must prove that you're worthy! I have created three armies! You must tell me which internal organ each of my armies favors for dining purposes, AND you must tell me in which order I created them!

JEFF: Aw, fudge.

TIBERIUS: And if you fail, not only will Gleefully Macabre Tales never see publication...but you're gonna get et by my zombies!

JEFF: I'll get et by nothing today, Tiberius! For I can answer your perplexing question as follows....

To win your last chance at immortality, send your answer to the perplexing question to GleefullyMacabre@gmail.com by 11:59 PM Eastern Standard Time on Monday, September 24th.

JEFF: I can't wait that long! I'll answer it now, without the help of my readers! The Flying Monkeys were created eighth and eat pancreases. The Vampire Ninjas were created twelfth and eat uvulas! And Middle Management was created seventeenth and eats souls! Ha!!!

TIBERIUS: That answer is.....WRONG!!!!

JEFF: What? No way. You're just making this up as you go along.

TIBERIUS: You shouldn't have disregarded the input of your fans, Mr. Strand. They are wise, attractive, dead sexxxy, and most generous with their book-purchasing budget. And now, you will pay the price...

DRAMATIC VOICE: Stop!

JEFF / TIBERIUS: It's....YOU!!!

To be continued...

JEFF: Ha! The answer to your riddle is simplicity itself! It is...

For the solution, click:

http://horrorworld.org/v-web/bulletin/bb/viewtopic.php?t=3410

JENNY: I really should've tested the riddle out on some underlings first, to make sure there weren't two equally valid answers.

JEFF: Eh, no big deal. Now...refuse to honor your promise so that I can break free and engage in wanton slaughter!

JENNY: We of the Sect of the Wriggling Serpent do not go back on our word. You are free to leave.

[She unlocks the chains.]

JEFF: Are you sure? I kind of had a hankering for wanton slaughter.

JENNY: Can't help you. My bodyguards all saw me promise to set you free if you answered the riddle correctly, and they wouldn't respect me if I tried to weasel out of it.

JEFF: Oh.

JENNY: Sorry.

JEFF: I guess I'll leave now.

JENNY: Did you get in any sightseeing while you were here?

JEFF: A little.

JENNY: See anything good?

JEFF: Keio-Gijuku University.

JENNY: Haven't been there.

JEFF: I passed it on the way here.

JENNY: Was it nice?

JEFF: Yeah, for an institute of higher learning it was pretty cool.

JENNY: Good to hear.

JEFF: So the wanton slaughter is definitely out, right?

JENNY: Yeah.

JEFF: Do you have Gleefully Macabre Tales?

JENNY: Nope.

JEFF: Okay. Guess I'll go back to the states and confront the final member of Mumblecrust, then.

[Jeff leaves.]

To be continued...

The Gleefully Macabre Mystery, Part III

Tokyo, Japan

I walk the lonely streets of Tokyo, tortured by what I have done. And yet I am oddly serene, as if though my mind wrestles with my previous actions, my heart is at peace.

I seek Jennifer Grissom, leader of the Sect of the Wriggling Serpents. During my time as a prisoner of Mumblecrust, she was the most brutal. I do not relish the idea of shooting or stabbing a chick, but I must do what I must do when I must do it. Hot as she is, she still must pay, and I mentally put on a pair of reverse beer goggles so that her beauty will appear homely and gross to my non-drunken eyes.

I pound upon the iron door of the sect.

VOICE: State the password.

JEFF: "Zork II."

[The door opens. Jeff steps inside and finds himself in a huge circular room, illuminated by torches on the walls. Jennifer Grissom stands near the far wall, surrounded by a dozen of her bodyguards. That babe is smokin', but Jeff casts that thought from his mind.]

JENNY: YOU! I mean, hi, Jeff. I wasn't expecting this overseas visit.

JEFF: I'm sure you weren't. Two of Mumblecrust have fallen. Two remain. You're one of the two. You remain.

JENNY: Ah, yes. But rest assured, scribe, that I will not fall quite as easily.

[She signals to her bodyguards. They all rush forward. Jeff pulls out his silver dagger. They continue to rush forward, which to be honest wasn't what Jeff anticipated when he was fantasizing about this battle during the flight over. He knows that he could beat eight, nine, possibly even ten of them at once...but a dozen? Hell no. He drops the dagger.]

JEFF: Please don't beat me up!

[They fail to listen.]

JENNY: Enough! Well, a little bit more on his right side. Okay, now enough! Take him to the dungeon.

JEFF: The Naughty Dungeon?

JENNY: The Dungeon...OF DEATH!!! Well, technically the Naughty Dungeon...OF DEATH!!! But we're focusing on the "death" part.

[The dungeon. Jeff is chained to the stone wall. His clothes are shredded and his body is covered with red streaks from a severe lashing. Even people who are into that kind of thing wouldn't be into it the way it was done here. Jenny enters the dungeon, wearing a "naughty movie theatre usher" outfit.]

JENNY: Have we broken your spirit yet?

JEFF: Never! But may I register a complaint?

JENNY: Sure.

JEFF: I've been screaming the Safe Word since we started and your men won't stop whipping me. I think "Harder!" was a lousy choice.

JENNY: Duly noted. So I understand that you're trying to re-acquire Gleefully Macabre Tales? Isn't that the collection that contains transcripts of your 2006 and 2007 World Horror Convention Gross-Out Contest entries, with added commentary?

JEFF: Yep.

JENNY: And it also contains the story "Socially Awkward Moments With An Aspiring Lunatic," which Horror-Web gave a "solid, hands down, this-is-why-I-love-chapbooks five stars out of five" when it was originally published.

JEFF: Yeppers.

JENNY: And it even includes some never-before-published material, such as "Cap'n Hank's Five Alarm Nuclear Lava Wings," "The Bad Man in the Blue House," and "Secret Message."

JEFF: Yepperooni.

JENNY: It sounds like an outstanding collection. Too bad it will never see print! Hahahahahahahaha!!!

JEFF: You're hot when you cackle maniacally.

JENNY: Enough. Your time on this planet as a non-corpse grows short. Nothing will please me more than to kill you myself...but I will give you one chance to save your life. You must answer this riddle.

JEFF: Aw, crap.

JENNY: I have a pool, it has no water, and in it I can't swim. But Uncle Pete, he dove right in, and sharks devoured him.

JEFF: What are you babbling about?

JENNY: Answer that, and you shall go free! Fail, and you shall go free without your head!

What is Jennifer Grissom babbling about? For more of that hot, sweet immortality that I've been promising, send your answer to GleefullyMacabre@gmail.com before 10:00 AM Eastern Time on Saturday, September 22.

Mystery #2 Solution (No Spoilers Here)

RUPERT: Nobody accuses Rupert Munch of wrongdoing! I'll crush you like a poodle!

JEFF: Before you begin the crushing process, here's how I can PROVE that your story is wraught with fibbery!

For the solution, click here:

http://horrorworld.org/v-web/bulletin/bb/viewtopic.php?t=3405

RUPERT: I hate to admit it, but I must concede to your superior intellect and astute observational skills. I hope that someday you can forgive my transgressions, but until that day arrives I merely hope that you'll...DIE!!!!!

[Rupert rushes at Jeff with a knife. Jeff steps out of the way at the very last instant before he would've been poked, then bashes Rupert in the face with his elbow, and snatches the knife from Rupert's grasp. Jeff knows that with great power comes great responsibility, but his passion is too great, and he plunges the knife deep into Rupert's chest. Rupert falls to the ground.]

RUPERT: What...what have you become, Jeff? What has this quest for vengeance done to you...?

[Rupert lets out one final gasp, and then dies.]

JEFF: I did what anybody else would do. [softly] Anybody else.

[There is doubt in his voice. Doubt in his eyes. He wipes away a single tear, and slowly walks away.]

Two more members of Mumblecrust remain. I know that many of you reading this blog feel that I've gone too far, that I've lost my humanity, but you just don't understand. You've never held a copy of Gleefully Macabre Tales in your hands, never breathed in its papery scent. There will be more Mumblecrust blood spilled--much more--and I will not stop until my destiny has been fulfilled.

I am in the right.

....

Oh, God, what have I become...?

The Gleefully Macabre Mystery, Part II

Vigilante justice. It's not pretty, but it's pretty darn sweet.

My next "client" was Rupert Munch. Though his restaurant, Naught But Enchiladas, had made him a wealthy man, he was a frustrated writer who screamed in primal rage with every word I typed. At least I assumed he did. Maybe he didn't. Either way, he was jealous. I knocked upon the door of his large, two-story home.

JEFF: Hello, Rupert.

RUPERT: YOU! I mean, hello, Jeff. Stopping by to accuse me of being a member of Mumblecrust, are you?

JEFF: I certainly am. So cough up my book before I open up a can of punch-you-in-the-face.

RUPERT: Ha! You can't prove an innocent man guilty, you fool. At the time of your kidnapping--which I read about on your blog, this isn't a clue to my guilt--I was distracted with other matters.

JEFF: Is that so?

RUPERT: Indeed. At the exact moment of your capture, I was probably glancing over my shoulder at my neighbor, whose strained voice as he spoke to his plants indicated the presence of a sore throat, and I just happened to have some throat lozenges in my pocket. That's the kind of generous individual I am. You'd probably have kept the throat lozenges for yourself, even if your throat was well-lubricated, you cretin!

JEFF: Liar!!!

RUPERT: Prove it!

JEFF: Is it not true that cows have udders?

RUPERT: It is.

JEFF: And is it not true that the moon is not made of cheese except in scientifically questionable cartoons? And is it also not true that pugs and Boston terriers are very silly looking dogs but that everybody should nevertheless own one of each?

RUPERT: I will neither confirm nor deny either of those!

JEFF: And, Rupert Munch, isn't it true that if you're typing the word "monkey" on a standard keyboard but your hands are in the wrong spot, you'll type ",pmlru"?

RUPERT: Enough!

JEFF: Where's Gleefully Macabre Tales, you jerk?

RUPERT: Which Gleefully Macabre Tales do you mean? The one with the story "Mr. Sensitive," about which [dis]Orderly Reviews said "This story is gross, funny, scary, and just plain disturbing. Jeff Strand is brilliant and he should be locked away."?

JEFF: That's the one.

RUPERT: And also the stories "Werewolf Porno" and "Sex Potion #147," which The Horror Fiction Review called "bust-your-gut funny--Strand isn't only off his rocker here, he's out of his freakin' mind!"

JEFF: Yes! Yes!

RUPERT: And also the collection that features obscure and demented tales like "Special Features," "Them Old West Mutations," and "Roasting Weenies by Hellfire"?

JEFF: So...you know the book of which I speak! Now where is it?

RUPERT: Dunno.

JEFF: You scum-slurping monkey-boinker! What were you doing outdoors on that fateful night when you were distracted? Contemplating the Pythagorean Theorem? Studying the process of removing a spleen? Planting gooseberries? Calculating gratuities?

RUPERT: I was mowing my awesome lawn, which measures approximately eighty feet by seventy-five feet and features six kinds of grass.

JEFF: Oh, really? And you expect me to believe that somebody with your luxurious lifestyle mows his own lawn? Ha! Tell it to your future cellmate, punk!

RUPERT: The riding lawnmower is fun. And I like to pretend that I'm racing in NASCAR. Don't judge me.

JEFF: Uh-huh. And I'm supposed to believe that you were mowing your lawn........at night???

RUPERT: Yes. It's too hot during the day and I have superb artificial outdoor lighting.

JEFF: Oh. Well, I guess that part of your story is understandable. But where's Gleefully Macabre Tales?

RUPERT: Why don't you ask somebody who's guilty, rather than focusing your attention on somebody who's innocent?

JEFF: I am. YOU are guilty...and there's a hole in your story big enough to drive a NASCAR pace car through!

Do YOU know the hole in Rupert's story big enough to drive a NASCAR pace car through? If so, send your answer to GleefullyMacabre@gmail.com before 10:00 PM Eastern Time on Thursday, September 20th.

Mystery #1 - Solved! (No Spoilers Here)

JEFF: I know you're lying, Herman. And thanks to the help of my crack team of astute lunatics, I can expose you for the liar that you are!

HERMAN: Oh, yeah? Let's hear your, quote unquote, proof.

For the solution, visit:

http://horrorworld.org/v-web/bulletin/bb/viewtopic.php?p=18128#18128

HERMAN: Well, shut my mouth.

JEFF: Return Gleefully Macabre Tales to me immediately!

HERMAN: Never!

[Jeff lunges at Herman. They struggle. We hear a gunshot. Jeff looks shocked, horrified, and agonized. We think he's been shot. This sucks. But then Herman staggers away, a bloody hole in his chest. Jeff is now holding the gun. His bizarre facial expressions were to fool everybody into thinking that he was the one who was shot, when it was actually Herman.]

HERMAN: You'll...never....beat....Mumblecrust....

[Jeff shoots him five more times, emptying the revolver. Then he tosses the revolver aside, not happy about what he had to do, but knowing that it had to be done.]

JEFF [turning to face the blog readers]: Those of you who helped me unlock this mystery, I salute you. Your immortality is assured. But three more members of Mumblecrust remain unkilled, and Gleefully Macabre Tales remains under their control. My task is not yet complete.

To be continued...

Gleefully Macabre Mystery, Part I

Taking justice into your own hands is a big decision, but I'm cool with it. The members of Mumblecrust will pay for what they did to me, and I will get Gleefully Macabre Tales back in time for it to go up for pre-order from Delirium Books next week.

Yesterday, I paid a surprise visit to the home of the first scoundrel who kidnapped me. Herman Dorkins. A frustrated writer whose last six novels were rejected by PublishAmerica. He'd always resented my mild success, but now he'd taken his jealousy too far!

Following is a transcript of our conversation:

JEFF: Hello, Herman.

HERMAN: YOU! I mean, uh, hi Jeff. How's it going? Haven't seen you in a while. Cats doing okay?

JEFF: Don't "I mean uh hi Jeff how's it going haven't seen you in a while cats doing okay" me, Herman. You know why I'm here.

HERMAN: I don't. I really don't. It's for something non-confrontational, I assume.

JEFF: As always, your ludicrous assumption doesn’t match the reality of the situation. Mind if I take a look around?

HERMAN: I'd rather you didn't.

JEFF: I'd rather I did. Stay in my way so I can shove you aside.

[Jeff shoves Herman aside and walks into his living room.]

JEFF: Nice place you've got here. Almost...too nice. But not quite. Just nice enough. You don't mind if I check out your office, do you?

HERMAN: Do you have a search warrant?

JEFF: Right here. [Jeff holds up his fists. The words "Search Warrant" are tattooed upon his knuckles in a manly font.]

HERMAN: That works, sir.

[Jeff opens up the door to Herman's office and steps inside.]

JEFF: Gracious!

HERMAN: It could use some tidying, I'll admit.

JEFF: You need to use your vast collection of featherdusters for their intended purpose! This is nasty, Hermie! I mean, even after my months of post-Stoker-loser depression I had at least one square inch in my office that was dust-free! And look at all the cobwebs! And the cobs! Why are there ancient corn cobs on your floor? Dude!

HERMAN: Okay, okay, I've let my office go! I haven't written anything in a year! Are you happy? I'm as blocked as an elderly woman who's eaten six pounds of cheese!

JEFF: I see.

HERMAN: I just can't do it. It's like I'm afraid that the keyboard is going to bite my hand off or something. I know it's not normal to feel this way--

JEFF: It certainly isn't.

HERMAN: --but I can't help myself. I may never write again.

JEFF: And perhaps while you wallowed in self-pity, you concocted a scheme to make sure that others suffered the same lack of productivity! Is that why you joined Mumblecrust and stole the manuscript for Gleefully Macabre Tales?

HERMAN: I didn't steal the manuscript! I swear!

JEFF: Interesting that you deny having stolen the manuscript, since I never told you it was stolen!

HERMAN: Yes, you did. Just now.

JEFF: Oh. That's right. My bad.

HERMAN: And I read it on your blog.

JEFF: Still, you've always been jealous of me. Don't think I don't know about that "I Really Hate Jeff Strand" scrapbook you keep. Photographs of me with silly mustaches drawn upon them... clippings of my finest reviews with "Yeah, right!" scrawled in crayon...samples of my DNA that you eventually plan to use to make a clone that you can drop on its head as a baby...you're the Salieri to my Mozart, admit it!

HERMAN: No! I quit updating that scrapbook months ago!

JEFF: Where is it now?

HERMAN: It...it was stolen! Right off my desk!

JEFF: Is that so?

HERMAN: Yes! In fact, it was stolen just this morning, no doubt by the person who sabotaged Gleefully Macabre Tales! If you find the person with my scrapbook-o-hate, you'll find the true culprit!

JEFF: Hmmm. I remain unconvinced.

HERMAN: Well, maybe this will convince you! [Suddenly, Herman points a gun at him.]

JEFF: Actually, no, that makes me more certain of your guilt.

HERMAN: No, no, I meant that maybe this gun would convince you to leave me alone.

JEFF: That it did. But I know you're lying...somehow...


But how? How do I know that he's not being entirely truthful with me? If YOU have figured out the solution to this beguiling mystery, and YOU want to be one of the glorious souls who help me retrieve the Gleefully Macabre Tales manuscript, send your answer to GleefullyMacabre@gmail.com.

Everybody who sends in a correct entry will be immortalized...but you'll find out how you'll be immortalized later. Heh heh. This installment of the mystery ends at 8:00 PM Eastern Time tomorrow (Wednesday the 19th). But rest assured that there are more members of Mumblecrust and more liars to expose, so watch this blog all week for more chances to help solve the Gleefully Macabre mystery!

I've Escaped!!!

What a weekend. So the scoundrels from Mumblecrust broke into my house, threw me in their car trunk (in the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that it was a very comfy trunk), and drove me to their lair. I was locked in a cage and fed nothing but high-starch, high-cholesterol, low-protein foods. I was roughed up every thirty-five minutes. They tried to kill me, but being a writer has given me an extremely high threshold for abuse, and I survived their attempts to end my life.

There were five of them. Fortunately, in any group of kidnappers consisting of three or more individuals, there's always the Nice One Who Doesn't Really Want To Be Part Of It, and I used his kind-hearted nature to my advantage, encouraging him to set me free. We tried to slip out of the house unnoticed, but that didn't work out (I don't wish to play the blame game here, but Mr. Nice was also Mr. Forgot To Set His Cell Phone To Vibrate When His Mom Called At A Most Inopportune Time). Much gunfire was exchanged. We escaped from the house, sped off in his truck, had an exciting chase sequence, and eventually lost our pursuers.

I was in a celebratory mood until my savior revealed that he'd been shot. The wound was mortal. I begged him to let me take him to the hospital, but through gritted teeth he insisted that he didn't want to die in prison. I tearfully said "No! No! You can't die!" and he just gave me a brave smile and said that everything would be all right, this was his destiny, and he didn't fear death. It takes a long frickin' time for somebody to die of a bullet to the earlobe, but eventually he did, and I wept for the loss of my friend and screamed "No!" a lot.

Anyway, I'm back home now. Here's the problem. Mumblecrust hacked into the Delirium Books server and erased the manuscript for Gleefully Macabre Tales. They also erased it from my hard drive. The only existing copy of the book is the one I burned onto a CD...which they stole. Four members of Mumblecrust remain. They all wore facemasks, but through keen observation of their mannerisms I think I know their identities. The police have told me not to be a hero, that they'd arrest them as soon as the necessary paperwork clears, but I know that Gleefully Macabre Tales is too important to you readers for me not to go after it personally.

Rest assured, I will get it back. But I may need your help.

Stay tuned.

jeez...

strand is like frickin' rasputin. we started the killing process at 12:01 a.m. eastern standard time, and we've been going at it for about eleven hours now. we're all like "dude, just die already!" but we're stabbing him and bludgeoning him and kicking him and poisoning him and unnaturally aging him and drowning him and cooking him and it's not doing any good! don't get me wrong--he's being really whiny about the whole thing, but our plan to deliver his corpse to the local bakery has yet to see fruition.

rest assured, though--we are Mumblecrust. we may not be able to expedite the process, but strand is eventually doomed.

ignore that

ignore strand's message. he may have temporarily slipped out of his cage, but he was quickly subdued, tranqulized, kicked, tranqulized, goosed, tranquilized again, and will not be waking up any time soon. his demise will proceed as scheduled.

--sincerely, Mumblecrust

It's Me!

Send help!

Or cookies!

pathetic

your feeble grassroots efforts to save strand will not work. we in Mumblecrust ridicule them. parts of them we don't even understand.

http://leatherzebra.livejournal.com/

by all means, keep trying, though--your failure will amuse us.

strand will not live to see sunday, september 16, 2007

almost lost him

though jeff strand's continued status as an "alive" person is not part of our plan, we do intend for him to make it through the weekend, and we in Mumblecrust have reluctantly admitted that exposing him to rob zombie's two hours of "f**k you, moviegoers!!!" was extreme. (do not think we are any less dangerous because we inserted astericks into a naughty word--we are very dangerous, believe us.)

he was twitching and frothing at the mouth and whimpering and making all of us rather uncomfortable, so we wrapped the duct tape back on him and dragged him to king of kong: a fistful of quarters, a documentary about two men and their obsession over attaining the world record score in donkey kong. much like spellbound, where you can't believe that a documentary about spelling bees could be this engaging, king of kong takes a "seriously, dude, like, who cares?" premise and turns it into the most gripping, entertaining movie strand has seen in quite some time.

in fact, we had to beat the crap out of him with lead pipes halfway through, to lessen his enjoyment

torture...

we are Mumblecrust. for those of you unable to keep up with a simple blog, i'll remind you that we have kidnapped jeff strand and sabotaged the publication of his short story collection gleefully macabre tales.

he is still alive...barely. we grew weary of the physical torture and decided to embark upon some mental cruelty. "jeff," we said, "we're taking you to see hatchet."

oh, you should have seen his eyes light up! "it's playing here?" he asked. "really?"

"really."

we bound him with duct tape and carried him into the theatre. there would be no popcorn or cherry coke or raisinets for strand, but he was still thrilled to be seeing the movie at last. he grinned all through the trailers, and then the movie began.

rob zombie's halloween.

you should have heard him wail. for the halloween remake isn't bad in a "disappointing compared to the original" manner, it is bad in a "rob zombie was seeking vengeance against all horror movie fans who have wronged him" way. you have to assume that it's trying to be bad, because there's no way that rob zombie looked at the kid in the way-too-big mask, who looks like a bobblehead doll during supposedly scary scenes, and thought "yes indeedy, i am making a quality motion picture right here."

jeff remained defiant. after the movie's opening scene--an avalanche of trailer trash profanity--he said "at least it's terrible right from the start, so i'm not disappointed when it goes downhill." when the "love hurts" moment arrived, he was less defiant. by the end, he was begging for sweet, sweet mercy.

"you could at least have taken me to see frickin' underdog," he said.

heh heh heh heh heh heh

gleefully macabre tales is doomed, and jeff had to sit through the halloween remake. Mumblecrust will not be stopped. and, oh, things are only going to get worse. stay tuned...

a message

well, well, well. what an adorable little blog.

jeff strand will no longer be posting here. he will not be posting anywhere. he is with us, and he is most assuredly not unharmed. he is very, very harmed. in fact, i believe that i shall stroll over to his cage right now and harm him some more, just for fun.

ahhhhh. that was refreshing.

our real names are not important. you may call us Mumblecrust.

it is too late for us to stop the publication of strand's wretched tome disposal. we could stop the publication of his feeble collaborative novel the haunted forest tour, but we feel no shame in confessing that we're a bit frightened of his co-author jim moore.

but there will be no gleefully macabre tales in your lifetimes. we have put a stop to it. forget the cover. forget the table of contents. in fact, you would do well to forget strand himself.

feel free to post your insipid blog comments for our amusement. maybe we'll pass them on to strand as we do more...cutting.

The Madness Continues

So yesterday my e-mail account got hacked. Today I got this from Delirium Books:

"Dear Jeff,

You know that book Gleefully Macabre Tales you thought was coming out? It's not anymore. Buh-bye.

Sincerely, D.B."

I am absolutely devastated by this news. And yet it's all very suspicious. Shane Ryan Staley does not sign his e-mails "D.B." He signs them "Shane" and always follows his name with a happy face. Nor does he call me "Jeff," he calls me...well, it's not important what he calls me, but it's not "Jeff." The only part of this e-mail that's credible is the "Buh-bye" part. It feels like the type of e-mail he might write at knife-point...but WHOSE knife's point?

Something is going on, and it may or may not be related to the account hacking, the middle-of-the-night hang-up phone calls, and the mysterious figures currently lurking outside my house. Rest assured, semi-constant reader, that I will not allow my writing career to be compromised by these reprehensible rascals. You WILL get the opportunity to read Gleefully Macabre Tales, I promise, and I'm going to figure out how to handle this situation as soon as I go check out that sound of breaking glass I just heard in my kitc

HACKED!!!

Some nefarious miscreant hacked into my e-mail account. If you've received any e-mails from me with the following subject lines, please delete them immediately and understand that the attached photographs were 100% Photoshopped and in no way accurately reflect any interests I might have. Thank you.

Jeff Strand is a total dorkwad

Need Viagra? Jeff Strand does! Lots and lots of it! Hahahahaha!

Gleefully Macabre Tales is teh lameness

My name is Jeff Strand and I scrape off my own plaque and eat it

Earn 1000's from home stuffing Jeff Strand--he'll like it! Hahahahaha!

IMPORTANT CONFIDENTIAL MATTER PLEASE READ by the way Jeff Strand sux

Boop loop a hoo ha yeah da mookie mookie flip slip moo

Gleefully Macabre Tales Cover (Bigger)

By Alan Clark...

Welcome to the FEAR ZONE!!!

The brand-new website FEAR ZONE is now live, and one of its debut features is a wacky interview with me, conducted by the lovely and talented Richard Hipson.

http://www.fearzone.com/

TRIVIA: The tiny little hand in the "screaming author" photograph belongs to webmaster Greg Lamberson's daughter, during her efforts to forcibly remove my facial hair.

GLEEFULLY MACABRE TALES Table of Contents

Okay, kiddies! Here's the official table of contents of GLEEFULLY MACABRE TALES, which goes up for pre-order in a couple of weeks from Delirium Books.

"Really, Really Ferocious"
"Socially Awkward Moments With An Aspiring Lunatic"
"High Stakes"
"Special Features"
"Sex Potion #147"
"The Three Little Pigs"
"Everything Has a Purpose"
"Them Old West Mutations"
"Wasting Grandpa"
"A Bite For a Bite"
"Glimpses"
"Common Sense"
"Gross-Out!" (a transcript of my vile 2006 and 2007 Gross-Out Contest entries, with commentary)
"Bad Coffee"
"Werewolf Porno"
"An Admittedly Pointless But Mercifully Brief Story With Aliens In It"
"Munchies"
"Roasting Weenies By Hellfire"
"Quite a Mess"
"I Hold the Stick"
"Scarecrow's Discovery"
"Howard, the Tenth Reindeer"
"Howard Rises Again"
"BrainBugs"
"Cap'n Hank's Five Alarm Nuclear Lava Wings"
"A Call For Mr. Potty-Mouth"
"The Bad Man in the Blue House"
"Abbey's Shriek"
"The Socket"
"One of Them"
"Secret Message"
"Mr. Sensitive"
"The Bad Candy House"

The collection also contains Story Notes. If you have a friend read them out loud while you're reading the stories, it's like DVD audio commentary!

Tampa Area Folks, C'mon Over To Deep Carnivale!

DEEP CARNIVALE: A CELEBRATION OF WORDS will take place Saturday, September 8, 2007, on 14th Street and Palm Ave in Ybor City from 10:00AM to 6:00PM.

Approximately 60 poets, fiction writers, and songwriters as well as visual artists are presenting work. They represent a diverse range of writing styles, ages, experience, and cultural backgrounds. There will be three sound stages for readings, spoken word, original singer/songwriter performances and short plays. Arts and writing activities for children and adults of all ages will add to the celebratory quality of the day. An Exquisite Corpse, an art concept from the 1920's, will transform the arches of the El Pasaje building into 20 'stanzas' of an original poem that will come to light for the first time on September 8th, written and illustrated by twenty artists/writers.

I'll be doing a pair of readings, one at 11:15 and one at 4:15. I haven't decided for sure yet, but I'll probably read "Them Old West Mutations" (giant killer cockroaches in the Old West) and "The Bell...FROM HELL!!!"

The entire event is absolutely free! Woo-hoo!

For a complete schedule, information on all of the participants, and everything else you need to know, check out:http://www.deepcarnivale.com/

HATCHET -- Denied!!!

Where the hell is HATCHET? I wanna see HATCHET, dammit, but it's not playing anywhere in Florida this weekend!

Oh, sure, we're keeping Rob Zombie's HALLOWEEN on multiple screens (plus I can still see UNDERDOG and DADDY DAY CAMP), but no HATCHET! This suuuuuuuuuuuucks! Every craptastic remake plays at a theatre near me, but we didn't get FIDO, BLACK SHEEP, or HATCHET.

Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh! Argh x 1,000,000,000,000!