Book Review - The Night's Neon Fangs by David W. Barbee

The Night's Neon Fangs is a book containing four novellas by David W. Barbee: The Night's Neon Fangs, Noah's Arkopolis, That Ultimo Sumbitch, and Batcop Outta Hell. Each one is an inventive take on a classic story theme. 

The titular work is a story about a man that has been bitten by an electric werewolf. The story is a vivid and well thought out version of the original werewolf story with a modern, unique twist. Can this electric werewolf learn to control his affliction?

In Noah's Arkopolis the Ark never reached land. After the flood, solid ground disappeard forever. Centuries later, Arkopolis has become a city floating on an endless ocean whose citizens are mutated ancestors of humans and animals. It is an alternate history story unlike any other.

The third work, that Ultimo Sumbitch, continues Barbee's theme of traditional story types with his own bizarre stylings. This novella has a western base with a cyborg as the protagonist, zebras and ostriches alongside horses, and a saloon that serves liquor in a gaseous state.

Barbee finishes this collection strongly with Batcop Outta Hell. At first glance, it has the appearance of the ever-popular police/detective story. McNulty’s family was killed. He wasn't able to protect them. Now he has returned from Hell to avenge them. Did I mention that he is a bat?

The Night's Neon Fangs, in its entirety, is entertaining and cohesive. It is hard to find a werewolf, western, detective, or biblical story that hasn’t been written the same exact way a hundred times. David W. Barbie creates worlds within your favorite genres that will change the way you view…well, everything.

Bizarro Trading Cards

Box of Bizarro is proud to present the world's first (to our knowledge) Bizarro Trading Cards. The cards should be available for purchase next week as single cards, multiple cards, and full sets. The set includes author cards, book cards, and more. The back of the author cards include stats, the book cards include fun facts that you may not know. Collect your favorites or the entire set.

Six Fantastic Facts from a Cat and Then You Die by GJ Hart

1) Predictable really. Think we both knew it was coming. Suppose I could've done things differently. Hate the sight of blood. I'd like to say you look surprised, but from where I'm sitting, your looking days are done.

2) I kept the secrets, Jake. The acclaimed atheist, on his knees; the tarot cards and supplication. And when you crashed, I bailed. Emotional embezzlement, Jake. Never thought I'd come to hate you, but I have.

3) I need order, Jake. I need coherent systems. I need to eat EVERY FUCKING DAY. You get in, crack one open and don't quit glugging till the voices start. All the while, I'm thinking: any minute now, any minute now. But there ain't nothing coming, JAKE. Just you, curled up, crying like a fucking baby.

4) When you asked, I heeded. I carried it to the window and made it disappear. But you, what did you do? A bit of rough and tumble in the old country and we're off. Sixteen hours in a car boot 'cos you can't front things up. You're a coward, Jake, and if there's one thing I can't stomach, it's a fucking coward.

5) No amount of advice is gonna tidy this up, but I'll say this: if someone wants tuna, don't give 'em cheese, give 'em fucking tuna! Luckily I've got options. Might scoot over to Mrs. Disrelli's. She's more fun now Geoff's dead. Good riddance, I say. Hated that parrot. But she's kind, Jake. She gets me. Plus, I don't have to listen to Bob Dylan all fucking weekend.

6) Don't believe those Swedish crime shows, Jake. Most of the time, they don't even investigate, just file it and forget it. And when they do, you think they get it right? You think we let 'em? You think Senebkay was killed in battle? You think Pentaware pulled that knife? You think they bowed before Bastet because we tore a few scorpions apart? It was fear, Jake, pure fear. Difference being, they could keep their mouths shut. Not like you lot. Believe me, if you weren't in such bad shape, I wouldn't be telling you. But you look fucked, so I'm thinking it's ok.

Fish Who Answer the Telephone

In 1937 Yury Petrovich Frolov conducted a scientific experiment to see if fish could hear. He used a ringing telephone. Of course, the experiment concluded that fish can hear. He recorded his findings and published a book. The title: Fish Who Answer the Telephone. I haven't yet read the book, so I can't officially review it. What I can do is speculate that a book with this title could be much more interesting with a different subject matter, so I present to you a short excerpt of Fish Who Answer the Telephone: A Fiction Novel.

"I was asleep when the phone began ringing. The day had been long, so I hesitated getting out of bed. It stopped after the third ring. Relieved, I rolled over to finish the night's sleep. That's when I heard talking in the living room. It was nothing more than a soft murmur but I was the only person in the house. I got out of bed and slowly creeped down the hallway toward the voice. It sounded like a one sided conversation, but I couldn't make out exact words. At the doorway to the living room I poked my head in, but it was too dark to see. I flipped on the light. My beta fish looked at me, held out the phone, and said, 'Hey Jon, it's for you.'"

Do any of you guys have thoughts or a different story? Let me know in the comments how you think this book should go.

Debauchery at Rockefeller Plaza by B. V. Boyer

Nicholas shivered with rage as he gazed upon the antique figurines through the display window. Imbeciles! The image humans had dreamed up for him was truly disgusting.  A fat man in a red suit -puffy cheeks and white beard. Absurd! He'd had enough of this! Tonight they would see his real charm.  Tonight  he would ruin all their ideals, all their happy faces.

Half the city stood at Rockefeller Plaza waiting for the big Christmas tree reveal. Nicholas heaved himself off the store facade and began making his way through the crowd.

Once at the stage, he began preparing for the reveal. He pulled out the megaphone to ensure he was heard by all. The acoustics would be wonderful here.

Just as the lights came up, he jumped in front of the tree.  Screams of shock echoed through the crowd, as Nicholas rose to his full height. Nicholas stood naked, the veins stood out from his muscles pulsing green against snow white skin. "Today, you will all know the truth of your Santa Claus!" He shouted as four additional penises and arms sprouted through his left flank. He began jerking off as people in the front trampled each other trying to escape. It was no use. The explosion of acidic green jiz began spurting hundreds of feet into the air, raining down on the crowd. Screams of agony filled the night. As a final touch, Nicholas bellowed, "and to all, a good night!"

Christmas Layaway Bluetooth Blues - Russell Holbrook

Jacob went to K-Mart to buy an antique daydream. Because it was so expensive, it had been on layaway for a century. His job sweeping bones out of the ballroom didn’t pay very well. He’d been saving for so long. Even now he knew he was two dollars short. He planned to use his charm on the cashier, hoping that she would let it slide, or let him perform some kind of immoral and indecent act to cover the rest. Anything, anything… he would do whatever she asked. Jacob was sure this would work out for him. It had to, it was Christmas.

And then, it was his turn and there she was, smiling. He paid what money he had and explained, telling his story in all its utterly sad, reprehensible, pathetic glory. And she smiled and said no. She was sorry but there was nothing that she could do. Jacob’s eyes fell to the floor, his hands went into his pockets, and then hundreds of tiny Chinese throwing stars were pelting the cashier and all the customers and screams and blood filled the layaway department and the manager shuffled out of the back and sighed. I knew this would happen one day, he said as a throwing star stabbed him in the eye.  

Bradley Smith - Carolers

Justin heard from the kitchen. Damn Carolers, he thought. Come by every year. Nothing but annoying noise.

He'd prepared this time. 

For the last month he’d bought cartons of eggnog, let them spoil, until they smelled like fungus-ridden toe-cheese; a true antique by now. He poured them into a large bucket, ready to be thrown on the unsuspecting visitors.

He opened the door just as "Silent Night" began and threw the putrid nog in their faces. 

They didn't respond. 

The smiles remained, even as the white dripped off their chins. All eyes were on Justin, unblinking and full of joy.

A sound that resembled the screech of brakes came from each of the Carolers’ mouths, starting very low, increasing in volume by the nanosecond. Their faces split down the middle, as if the were opened from inside by some invisible zipper. Underneath was darkness, nothing but. A cold breeze, like the air that escapes a freezer, came, making the already frigid air that much colder. Ballroom music oozed from the pit.

Justin couldn't look away. He felt compelled to look into the empty faces; it was like bait. As if in a daydream, he walked closer, peering in, until he was crawling through, just as a child will climb into a toybox to get to the best toy at the bottom, all the way to his burial.

Then he was gone.

The faces all zipped back up into their facade and they glided away, onto the next house of debauchery.