Frankenfish!

Well, here we are again hot on the tail-end of my warning of the dangers of humans dressing as animals. I saw that as the new threat to humanity. But it looks like humanity's downfall won't be due to apes, robots OR humans in animal costumes (maybe the downfall will come at the hands of the MAGA movement, but I'm really tired of talking about those guys). Nope...it looks like there's a new scary predator in town, ladies and gents. I give you...FRANKENFISH. (Cue lighting flashes and thunder crashes).

Take a look at this guy. Cuddly, yeah? Apparently scientists are freaking out over this predator and the US government recommends killing them upon sight. Yow! Pretty harsh for a little fish, wouldn't you say? But the Frankenfish, aka the northern snakehead, are invasive, spread quickly and kill off ecosystems. An equal opportunity predator, the Frankenfish is color blind and enjoys destroying White Perch and Black Crappie (and with a name like "Crappie," I gotta side with Frankenfish on that one).

What makes the Frankenfish really freaky is that they can go for days without water. They breathe air through a suprabranchial chamber which allows them to go to the top of their habitat, cough, expel their old air and suck in a ton of new air, thus enabling them to wiggle across land in search of new water sources. They can wiggle for days! A whole lotta wigglin' goin' on! In Arkansas, apparently the slower stragglers corpses can be found alongside the road.

The stuff of nightmares.

Furthermore, these cute lil' guys have been known to lunge and bite at people who get too close to their eggs. And I thought piranha were scary enough.

Okay, so how do you kill a Frankenfish? Thank God the US government is at the top of their game and explaining just how that can occur. First, you can put them on ice. Um, how exactly is that supposed to work? The government isn't very forthcoming. (It's kinda like when someone tells you their plan on how to get rich is "I'll start with a million dollars.") If the Frankenfish is busy lunging and biting at me, I'm not going to take care to put him on ice.

You can also cut off its head (again this calls for alarming proximity), gut it (ditto), or even eat it. I don't know about you guys, but I'm kinda not okay with eating something that could eat me.

And the government's last final, ominous warning? "Whatever you do, don't throw it onto land to suffocate it." Because the guy will just wiggle away to procreate and wreak havoc on another unsuspecting ecosystem. (Again with the lightning flash and thunder crash.)

One final terrifying thought on the Frankenfish: some guy who used to have one in his aquarium said it could recognize people. How did THIS guy ever sleep? With his Frankenfish watching him at night, plotting and just waiting for the right time to wiggle out of the tank and lunge at his "master" with his sharp teeth going for the jugular...

It's aliiiiiiiiiive!

While on the topic of alarmingly grotesque monsters and abominations, you'll find lots of 'em in my short story collection, Twisted Tales From Tornado Alley. We've got giant spiders and bugs, angry sentient murderous space plants, underground cannibalistic hellspawn, and a lovesick and lovably violent Bigfoot! All this and more fun awaits you RIGHT HERE!

Hey, kids! Have you tried delicious mealworms? YUM!

In keeping with my rather dangerous (and at times unsavory), impulsive habit of eating before thinking, I picked up a chow mein noodle off the kitchen counter, ready to pop it into my mouth for a quick and easy snack. For once, however, my inner censor didn't malfunction and imprinted doubt in my mind.

"Hold on a second there, buster," it said (strangely in a 40's Bowery Boys Bronx accent),  "remember the other day when you picked up a chocolate chip off the counter?"

"Oh, yeah," I said out loud, chow mein noodle held firmly between my thumb and forefinger, while the dogs looked on questioningly, particularly since they couldn't see who I was talking to. "It turned out it wasn't a chocolate chip at all!"

"And," my inner censor pestered, "what happened next, wise guy?"

"Um...I discovered too late it was a dog food kernel. Yuck!"

"Well, well...don't you think that means maybe you oughta reconsoider that noodle?"

I stared at the crisp noodle. Sooo enticing. Sooo begging for me to eat it. Then I said, "hey, why would my wife be using chow mein noodles in a recipe? We typically never eat fried foods."

So close, yet so far, I lowered the crisp, delicious nugget from my mouth. My gaze wandered the kitchen.  

Messy countertops? Check. Container of dozens of dog pills, treats, doo-dads, gizmos? Check. Cans that neither my wife or I wanted to run down to the basement yet? Check. Bag of mealworms? Che--

Mealworms?

Hold on a minute... Mealworms? What the hell are mealworms?

I picked up the bag and had a look. Turned it over and over. A new kinda healthy cereal? No, it didn't have that kinda Kapow packaging. A healthy taste treat? Maybe, but why put the word "worm" into the title unless...unless...

Unless...

"AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" 

Quickly--and quite dramatically--I hurled the offending mealworm toward the wall, hoping for a theatrical impact. Instead it just sort of fluttered to the floor, where to my horror, one of our dogs ate it.

When my wife got home, she had some 'splaining to do.

"What do you think they are?" she said. "Duh."

Well, that didn't really explain what they were, so I ventured online. (Now, some of you may be wondering why I didn't know what a "mealworm" was. It's quite simple: A} In my youth, I must've missed mealworm day at school; and B} I find worms to be of the most grotesque creatures on earth, hence why I don't go fishing and doubly-hence why I'm not all over the internet discovering the joys of wormdom. To quote my wife: "Duh.") But...being the intrepid reporter that I am--the things I do for you guys--I dug up what I could on "mealworms." (Yes, pun intended!)

Mealworms are the larval form of the yellow mealworm beatle, Tenebrio molitor, a species of darkling beetle. Which by no means makes them any less gross. Get this: the males emit a specific type of sexual pheromone. However, since there is so much inbreeding, the pheromone is diminished in the inbreeding hillbilly worms, and the females seek out the "outbred" ones. Good choice, ladies.

And hey! Mealworms are just adored by scientists and biologists because they're so honking big. Which in my book just makes them even squickier.

Here's where it gets really bad: people have been eating mealworms for centuries since they're purportedly high in protein. Some Asian countries sell them as street food. Why, you can even order up an insect burger with a high mealworm content! Yum. They can be processed into food products such as flour, which means that we've more than likely eaten mealworms in our lifetime. Finally, the European Union has approved them for human consumption. Thanks, guys!

"Wait," I said to my wife, "we're not gonna eat these, right? RIGHT?"

"Don't be stupid, dear," she said. "They're for the birds."

"Oooooooooooohhhhhhh," I replied. "But, then...why are they all over the kitchen?"

And from that point on, everywhere I looked, I found bags of mealworms. It rained mealworms. Like some sort of crazed Salvador Dali fever dream, I saw bags of mealworms on the kitchen counter, on top of the refrigerator, in the pantry. When I opened a cabinet, a bag fell down at my feet. Seeking solace in the garage, I found an industrial sized bag of mealworms. I had a nightmare where mealworms were re-hydrating and coming after me for revenge after I slurped down a massive bowl of them.

I think the European Union is trying to tell me something. Feeling kinda peckish now.

While I'm ranting about squirmy, gross creatures, you might find quite a few in my short story collection, Twisted Tales From Tornado Alley. Why, off the top of my head, I can think of giant spiders, a couple of Bigfoot ("Bigfeet?" "Bigfoots?"), sentient yet malevolent plants from elsewhere, monstrous trick 'r treaters, underground mutated murderous monsters, and more creatures, ghosts, and spooks than you shake a jack-o-lantern at. Ask for it by name, read it at night, and check under the bed. That's Twisted Tales From Tornado Alley by Whammo!

B.O.M.E. aka, "Basement of Monstruous Entities"

You've heard of C.H.U.D., right? A middling '80's horror film regarding "Cannibalistic Humanoid Underground Dwellers?" Now do you remember it? The late John Heard and Daniel Stern? No? Doesn't matter. (Come to think of it, I believe I worked with several C.H.U.D. at my last job.)

Anyway, welcome to "B.O.M.E.," the Midwestern cousins of the C.H.U.D. Maybe not the entire Midwest, but my basement, for sure.

I first became aware of these terrifying nocturnal monsters when my wife decided we had to clean up the basement. Until that point, I had used the basement for a repository for all of the crap I thought I might find useful later down the road. You know, I'm talking large Styrofoam packaging pieces, broken chairs and lamps, ages old and mildewed children's toys, you name it. Far from a hoarder (but probably straddling the hoarder border), I never met an empty box I didn't like.

Anyway, the clean-up process was vast, requiring a rented dumpster. We filled that big boy up with at least 10,000 moldy videotapes, my empire of dirt. That was tough as I unloaded box after box of my lifetime savings into the dumpster. Hell, who woulda thought videotapes could get moldy?

Then the process of cleaning down the old, lumpy stone walls came next. You see, this ain't no yuppie finished basement we're talking here. It's a perfect place for a haunting. Built during one of the wars, the basement is a mess of bad wiring and plumbing, crumbling stone walls, the site of many a flood, webs of gargantuan arachnids, inexplicable leaves, and...yes, monsters.

"Honey," I called out to my wife, "you gotta come see this." I stood before a crevice in the wall, fingering an orange gelatinous goo (for you see, apparently I've not learned anything from watching '50's horror and science fiction movies).

She joined my side. "What?"

"Look...you ever seen anything like it?"

Clearly frustrated, she said, "No, get back to work."

But I knew. Yes, I knew the truth. B.O.M.E.

I had forgotten about them for several years. But they existed, I knew this in the darkest recesses of my haunted mind. One insomniac night as I lay in bed, I heard proof of them.

Thump...tump...timp...timp...thump...

I sat up, terrified. And listened to make certain it wasn't part of a half-lucid dream.

TUMP! Timp...timp...timp...

I lay in bed wide awake until the sun rose, listening to the horrific, foul creatures of the underworld using the network of our heating ducts for their transportation highway. Taunting me because I slept right next to a main vent. 

THUMP!

 I imagined all sorts of nightmarish creatures: there were man rats with huge, bulging eyes and teeth a bunny would be envious of; slithery, goo-dropping, albino slugs with large glaring eyeballs that waved on antenna stalks; and little orange-colored, bad-haired, narcissistic monster men taking over the basement.

My wife awoke shortly after the calamity had stopped. I told her of the monsters in the basement. She responded with a "yes, dear" and patted my poor, lil' over-worked head. 

I searched the basement (in the daylight, mind you) for physical proof of their existence. I found more orange goo. And strange pyramids of sticks, cracked acorns...and were those...bones?

I questioned my sanity until one fateful night when my wife heard them, too.

They're down there. Oh, yes, they are. And your basement may be next!

While on the topic of my spooky basement, it did inspire one of the creepiest hauntings I've committed to paper in one of my earliest books, Neighborhood Watch. Read it with the lights one. And don't say I didn't warn you. Like all of my books, it's 100% true!

Me, my mom and Trump makes three!

Whee!

I remember the good times, when me, Mom and Trump would skip merrily through the Kansas sunflower fields, when we'd have sleep-overs and do each others' hair, and...and...

I just can't do it. No, our "relationship" is fraught with loopiness, distrust, and other crumbling bedrocks of relationships.

I remember when it all started...(Cue the swirling picture, swelling music, and cut back several years ago).

When I first became aware of my mom's thoughts on Trump, before the ludicrous election, I was taken aback as she'd been a firm Democrat for many years.

"I'm telling you, Stuart," she said in that stubborn tone she used on me as a child, "he's a good man."

"A good man who harrasses and molests women and--"

"That was a long time ago. I'm telling you, he's a changed man. I know what I know." (That last stubborn Missouri statement became her catch-phrase over the next five years).

"Whatever." I threw my hands up. Both of them. Because what else can you do when facing crazy?

"He's a God-fearing man," she said, always getting the last word in. She folded her arms, pinched her lips tight and looked away. End of discussion!

But let's break down that last statement. "God-fearing." First of all, I gotta wonder what kind of Old Testament saying that is. Why is it a good thing to fear your creator? Is that what my mom's religion is based on? Fear? How sad and cruel.

Second, can anyone imagine Trump actually cowering in fear from anyone or anything? I'm trying to imagine him huddled in a corner, his orange cover-up drenched with flop sweat, an orange hand protectively draped over his head. Nah, doesn't work for me.

If anything, as a friend told me, he thinks he's God. Now, that I can get behind. During the time he's been in office, no one's ever told him, "No." You hear that often enough, then you think you can get away with anything. And he has.

Our combustible three-way relationship continued over the last several years, always on very unstable ground. Then, one miraculous day, celestial trumpets blared!

Gloriously, my mom said, "I'm sick of the whole thing! Trump shouldn't have assassinated that guy."

"That guy?" I said. "You mean the Iranian general?"

"Why, yes! I just with they'd hurry up and impeach him!"

She's seen the light! Trump had fallen in her eyes! Truly, it was a post-Christmas miracle!

It lasted on sweet day.

The next day, she said, "I think it's all political. I think someone told Trump to do it. You'll see I'm right, you'll see." She wagged a finger at me. "The Democrats are behind it."

"Mom, for cryin' out loud, you can't really think that Trump would listen to anyone, let alone the Democrats! That's crazy!"

"All right, Stuart." That indignant tone and folded arms came out again. "I know I'm right. We'll see, we'll just see. You'll see I'm right."

Well, no, sadly we never will know the whole truth ever about what really goes on behind politics. Which is a shame since our so-called leaders are supposed to be representing us.

I never consummated my relationship with Trump. Now, I just wish my mom would break up with him.

You want more? You got it! Twisted Tales from Tornado Alley is my horror/humor short story collection, some of the tales written angrily after the last election. Let's not have this happen again or you're gonna get a sequel! It's all on you! You've been duly warned! 

Rollin' Down the Supernatural Highway with Author Kevin David Anderson

Yee-haw, y’all! Gather ‘round, pop your boots up, grab that bag of greasy sliders, pop a cold one and join me as I grill (hope I don’t overcook him) comical horror author Kevin David Anderson. Kevin’s got a new book out from Grinning Skull Press entitled Midnight Men: The Supernatural Adventures of Dale and Earl and it’s a rollicking good time. 

Check out his super-cool trailer if you don't believe me!

 I knew I had to chat him up on my blog. Let’s see what Kevin’s all about…

SRW: Welcome Kevin. So… let’s get the necessary hyping and explaining outta the way first. What’s Midnight Men all about? And you must describe it like a country ballad. None of that sissy, namby-pamby, fancy-pantsed, modern pop country stuff, either. Nosirree, Bob! I’m talking a manly man’s country and western song, the kind Dale and Earl cruise to.

KDA: Well, I don’t believe in reinventing the wheel so I’ll throw out some of my favorite Waylon Jennings lyrics from the television show that is really just a country version of Masterpiece Theater:

Just the good ol' boys
Never meanin' no harm
Beats all you never saw
Been in trouble with the law
Since the day they was born

Staightenin' the curves
Flattenin' the hills
Someday the mountain might get 'em
But the law never will

Now if Mr. Jennings were to just change a few lyrics, substitute the young, good looking Bo and Luke Duke with two heavyset, not-so-good looking rednecks, trade out the General Lee for a Mac truck, season it with a few monsters, and that right there would be Midnight Men. 

SRW: Kevin, let’s tackle the burning question I’m certain is on everyone’s mind.  Are you, sir, a redneck?

KDA: Well, in the affirmative column we have my blonde mullet I wore for a brief time in the 80s, my Willie Nelson record collection, and the fact that I did live in Texas for three years. In the not a redneck column I have, never owned a pickup truck, lived in a trailer park, or dated a relative. I don’t care much for Pabst Blue Ribbon, beer nuts or motorsports. So, if I tally that all up and look at the convention chart, I think that puts me in the Not a Redneck category. 

An American Mullet in Paris (Anderson circa 1985)!

SRW: Then, why write about them? After all, haven’t you heard, write what you know?

KDA: Yeah, I’ve heard it. It seems to imply that if you’re not a redneck you couldn’t possibly write about’ em. But yet I also write about werewolves, demons, zombies, necromancers, witches, vampires, serial killers, human traffickers, ghouls, sadists, Satan worshipers, and monster killin’ truck drivers and I’m not at least half of those things either.

SRW: Here in godforsaken Kansas, Dale and Earl wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow. Let’s talk about Dale… He’s a man of mysterious background and since he’s also a man of few words, we don’t learn too much of that background. Do you know his full story? Or are you winging it?

KDA: I have his background story, the details are not etched in stone, but the basics are there. I will put it down on paper if and when there are enough readers asking for it. 

SRW: And what about that shadowy organization he sometimes works for and tries to keep at distance from his pal, Earl? 

KDA: Yeah, those guys. I like the idea of keeping them in the shadows, but what I will say here and now, assuming Earl and Dale’s story continues beyond Midnight Men, is that the organization exists on every continent, they’ve been around since before the Roman Empire, and its membership does not discriminate against the non-human or the dead.  

SRW: On the subject of Earl… He’s huge, he’s good-natured (when he’s not breaking skulls), loyal, and more than a little dense between the ears. You’ve dropped that he was adopted by a Native-American family and they brought him up on the reservation. Is there any chance of getting his “secret origin” story in the future?

KDA: Just like Dale’s background, Earl’s origins have been sketched out in my mind, and should the redneck duos adventures continue, then his story and his adoptive tribe will play a big part.

SRW: Earl appears to get love-struck fairly easily and I’m betting it happens often. Dale, on the other hand, is as celibate as a priest (wait…let’s try that again…)… Dale’s as celibate as a eunuch. Sure, he pines after his ex-wife (even though he has nothing kind to say about her), but surely that’s not the only reason he doesn’t seek companionship. Life on the road’s tough, I suppose, especially with spider-monsters and such coming outta the woodwork, but come on!

KDA: Funny you should ask. I have started a story in which I explore that very aspect of Dale, and what I know so far is that his relationship with his ex is much more complicated then I ever realized. Vile disdain can come from the heart and if felt deep enough can translate into physical passions. Not necessarily positive passions (there may be gunfire) but passions none the less. 

SRW: Okay, was the tv show, Supernatural, an inspiration? I kinda like to think of Dale and Earl as Sam and Dean gone to seed. But don’t go buy a yacht yet, Kevin. I don’t think people would want to turn into a TV show with Dale and Earl as the stars? I just can’t see it on the CW, home of the pretty, pretty poster people.

KDA: I see and understand the comparison, and I do like their black 67’ Impala (damn that’s a fine automobile) but they didn’t inspire Earl and Dale. The idea of truckers fighting darkness came from one of my favorite John Carpenter movies, Big Trouble in Little China. Jack Burton (Kurt Russell) is the original inspiration for it all, and although my two characters might hardly be recognizable in the comparison with Jack, if you look closely, squint your eyes a bit, you can see the similarities. As far as Earl and Dale on TV, I think they might fit on networks like USA, FX, TBS, TNT, and of course PBS. 

SRW: Horror and humor, two of my favorite things. I, too, dabble in this tricky genre. Let’s chat about that for a bit… We know humor’s highly subjective, yeah? For instance, my wife finds me painfully unfunny.  Others do. I think it’s particularly tough to write humor. You miss the cadence, the awkward pauses, the double-takes, etc. Now, when you stir horror into the mix, it becomes doubly hard. Yet I keep doing it. Don’t ask me why. Does it come naturally to you (I would hope the answer is “YES,” for there can only be one)?

KDA: I believe the answer is yes. But that’s not to imply that it is always easy. Sometimes the humor comes so fast I can’t write fast enough. Other times it's like trying to teach a chicken to whistle. Not much being accomplished. So, I think the key is to make yourself available to write when the writing is good, and when it’s not good, don’t force it. Go for a walk, shoot some hoops, kick the aforementioned chicken, whatever it takes to fill the creative well back up. 

SRW: I’ve noticed a particular aversion to humorous horror from the hard-core horror crowd. Whenever you mention humor or comedy (even dark as night), you can see their beady lil’ hardcore eyes glaze over and the derisive sneers form. Methinks they’ve had bad experience with the sub-genre and I can’t blame them there. It’s a tricky fence to straddle. I always put the characters, plot and horror first, with humor added as dashes of fun. I can’t help myself. But it’s easy to tip the other direction into spoofery (like “Scary Movie” and alla that junk) and nobody likes that. I mean, really, if it’s obvious you’re not taking your story or characters seriously, than why should the reader care? Thoughts?

KDA: Nope. It’s a really good question though. I can tell you gave it some thought.  

SRW: (Man...what a cop-out!) Finally on the last topic of humor in horror. When in doubt, scatological it out. Agree or disagree? (Earl does a lotta belching and projectile vomiting…what a guy).

KDA: Well I won’t say it's my go-to, but watching a character slip in someone else’s vomit is never not funny. 

SRW: I think you straddled the fence nicely, Kevin. Congrats on the most frowned upon sub-section of horror you’re likely to find.

KDA: Thank you. I endeavor to straddle. 

SRW: Um…does your wife find you funny? Or is it just me and my wife?

KDA: I don’t know what the marriage laws are where you are, but here in California my wife is legally obligated to find me funny. I’m legally obligated to compliment her shoes, even if she isn’t wearing any. It doesn’t make sense but it works for us. 

SRW: Do you intend on continuing Dale and Earl’s adventures? I want a novel detailing background, you hear me?

KDA: It's up to the readers. Midnight Men came about because of the calls, emails, and comments I was getting to continue the story that began with Earl and Dale’s adventure described in the short story Green Eyes and Chili Dogs. I’ll wait to see how Midnight Men is received before I consider continuing their story. 

SRW: What’s up next on your keyboard, Kevin?

KDA: Before the end of the year I will release my second joke book for kids, Jurassic Jokes: A Joke Book 65 Million Years in the Making under my pseudonym, Giggles A. Lott & Nee Slapper. And currently, I’m working on a follow up to my most successful novel, Night of the Living Trekkies. No zombies in this one, but it will see a few returning characters and will mashup Star Trek fandom with a popular international franchise in the thriller genre.

SRW: Tell the fine folks where they can stalk you on social media and give links so I don’t have to.

KDA: That would be my pleasure. Let the stalking begin!
www.KevinDavidAnderson.com

Amazon – Kevin David Anderson

Facebook – Kevin David Anderson

Instagram – Kevin David Anderson

YouTube – Kevin David Anderson

Goodreads – Kevin David Anderson

Letterbox – Kevin David Anderson

News Blog – Kevin David Anderson

SRW: Alrighty! Thanks heaps, Kevin, for being a good sport and hanging out. Y’all need to hop on over to Amazon and pick up a copy of MidnightMen: The Supernatural Adventures of Dale and Earl stat! It’s recommended. Me? I’ve gotta get back on the road, roll down the window, let the wind blow back…blow on my scalp, put the pedal to the metal and let this trucker roar, ten-four!

Attack of the Giant Mutant Bug Monsters!

Not a hoax! Not an imaginary story! The tale I'm about to recount is the God's honest truth.

My mother's been besieged by giant, mutant bug monsters. 

Okay, let me back up a bit... Maybe my mom's not the best eyewitness to such claims of truth, for you see she's 88 years old, has Macular Degeneration, and is legally blind. She can't see a thing (or as she puts it, "I can't see beans!"). So she's probably not the most credible person to put on the stand, if you know what I mean, and I think you do.

Anyway, my brother texts me, "Have you heard about Mom's giant bugs?"

I wrote back, "No, but tell me about it!"

He just responds with, "ask her to describe them." Well, for once I'm almost excited to call her.

"Mom," I say, "I understand you've been attacked by giant bugs?"

Silence. Finally she answers, "You've been talking to your brother, I guess."

"Yeah, he might've mentioned something about them. What's going on?"

"Well," she says, "this giant bug swooped into my apartment when I opened the door. Scared the tar outta me. He looked like a green bean with a three inch stem and a fan-tail and an awful tiny face. There's a big one and a little one and I can't catch them. They keep going for my hands and my face. But the big one lost his fan-tail since he got in. They're still in here somewhere, though."

Mr. Sensitivity that I am, I laughed long and hard. 

"I don't think it's so funny, Stuart," she said. "Wait 'till you get one of these bugs, then you and your brother won't think it's so funny."

"Mom, I'm sorry. But you admit you can't see 'beans.' But your description of the flying green bean monster bug is pretty detailed. I guess that's one bean you can really see." I couldn't help myself, continued sniggering.

"I don't think it's so funny. Wait 'till you get one, then we'll see if you think it's funny."

"Mom," I said, "I'd love to see a flying, giant mutant green bean bug monster."

It's true. I would love to. But everyone knows green beans with three inch stems and fan-tails don't exist.... Or do they?

What's that buzzing sound? Is that...is that a...flying green bean?

Speaking of weird beasties, you'll find a plethora of them--a zoo's worth--in my short story collection, Twisted Tales from Tornado Alley.

 

Scarfing up Scares with Author L. X. Cain

I’m dragging one of my fave authors back to Twisted Tales From Tornado Alley today. Shout out a howdy-do to Lexa Cain. Not only does Lexa write awesome fiction, she’s a lounge singer living in Egypt who loves horror. How cool is that? Fan-boys unite! Lexa’s got a bunch of awesome short stories out now and I wanted to hit her up (not too hard!) about them.

Lexa, first of all, after my gushtastic introduction, can I use you as a Femme Fatale in a future book?

Sure. Anything for you. *wink-wink, nudge-nudge* (Gotta play up that Femme Fatale side.)

Let’s start with my favorite of your trilogy of terror, The Inter-Galactic Gourmet. Yak a little bit about it.

Well, there’s an average, number-crunching cubicle worker—only she’s not—who meets a lost little boy—only he’s not. One thing there is though, is an alien invasion, which doesn’t go well for Earthlings or invaders.

Everyone loves a good cannibalistic, sci-fi story now and again (or should). But I really appreciated the irreverently dark humor involved. Right up my alley. Do your tastes in writing and reading run to the unhealthy? Should we be worried?

You should always be worried.

After reading your excellent first novel, Soul Cutter, we found out a few things that scare Lexa, the author (snakes, spiders, drowning, dark caves, heights, the works). So what about The Inter-Galactic Gourmet scares you more? Cannibalistic aliens or public transportation?

Public Transportation. The opening scene is taken directly from my experiences on the NY subway system when I used to live there. And what Cynthia, the main character, does, is something I always wanted to do but didn’t have the guts or the strength. Nice to live vicariously through my characters!

The cover reminds me of cheesy sci-fi flicks from the ‘50’s. An inspiration?

Those old sci-fi flicks are hilarious! Even the newer “Mars Attacks” has the same sort of tongue-in-cheek humor, and I tried to capture that aspect of my story with the cover.

We’re moving onto Biggun. Everyone’s got a zombie tale in them, something I believe (and wanna trend: #everyone’s zombietale or something). I wrote mine (Shameless plug: Zombie Rapture). This ‘un, Biggun, is yours. And it’s a winner. I gotta say the title fooled me; the “Biggun” in question wasn’t what I thought it’d turn out to be. What’s the truth behind “Biggun?”

When there are so many zombie tales out there, it’s hard to come up with something interesting, something original for the reader. But I try to make sure all of my works are unique, and the twist in Biggun just came to me. I’ve never seen anyone else do it, either.

I think the nature of zombie tales is one of despair, here especially. I don’t want to give anything away, but the ending in particular is downbeat, hearkening back to George Romero’s original Night of the Living Dead, the zombie king of all entertainment. I really loved what you did with your zombiepocalypse in such a few pages. Any chances of a full-length zombie tale by Lexa?

Despite the fact that zombies are super popular, what with “The Walking Dead” and all, I prefer to write original monsters. No zombie novel in my future.

Okay, quick zombie throwdown survey:

*How do you like your zombies? Running or shambling? Sentient or dumber than lawn furniture?

Old is gold. I like them shambling and stupid.

*If you woke up in bed next to a zombie, what would you say?

Could you hit the “snooze” please? Just ten more minutes…

*Who would kill more zombies? Jason Statham, Donald Trump’s stupidity or the music of Slim Whitman?

That one’s too close to call!

Sorry. Back to real questions. In Biggun, the main character is a mother, determined to protect her “little ‘un.” Nothing’ll deter her, certainly not zombies. Where’d the inspiration for this character come from?

I figured in a real zombie apocalypse, the hardest hit would be the “average” people in rural areas. So my main character is an old-fashioned stay-at-home mom who has a baby and goes to church socials—until she’s forced to kill the nice little ladies of the quilting circle because they’ve become bloodthirsty zombies.

Finally, let’s talk The Mission. Readers, imagine Stephen King twisting an adolescent Tremors. Bam.  I love coming of age tales, particularly when monsters are involved! Every boy should grow up with at least one serious monster incident.  I kinda wonder where your enthusiasm for all things spooky comes from, Lexa. Not being sexist, of course, but let’s talk skullduggery…

It’s very unusual for me to write a male main character, but the idea of sneaking out to a “forbidden” place just to see what’s there seemed more boy than girl. Thus Cody was born. 

I love your prose, Lexa, very nice, bordering on poetic at times, especially strange when considering the morbid subject matter. What’s up with that? Intentionally turning horror on its side? Or just damn lucky you’re a good writer, no matter what the genre?

I believe any book should be as well-written as the author can make it no matter what the genre. And I’m not a good writer—but I’m a very good reviser. lol

In The Mission, I think, the landscape’s pretty much the main character. All about the ambiance and setting. Again, it reads like you’re writing from experience. So, how does a singing writer living in Egypt know how to write about the dry lands of Texas? 

 
I’ve never been in the American West, but who hasn’t seen hundreds of westerns with John Wayne and the like? I think a writer can write about anywhere they can imagine, they don’t have to have actually been there.

I’ve had the pleasure of reading most of Lexa’s work-in-progress, Bloodwalker. Tell the folks about this absolutely awesome book. I can’t wait for readers to discover this creeptacular circus epic.

I think the most exciting thing about Bloodwalker is that it’s about a clown that creeps out at night from the circus and steals away little children. Since the circus travels around Eastern Europe, and there are children missing from different towns, no one’s figured out that the culprit lives in the circus yet—except one man, and he’s determined to find the killer.

So you have a scary clown, from a creepy circus, who’s killing kids. What more could you want in a horror novel?

Perhaps a heroine whose job is to prepare dead bodies and who knows all the ins and outs of evacuating bowels and sewing eyes shut. She’s a Bloodwalker. Someone’s murdering other Bloodwalkers—and she’s next.

  

Thanks so much for having me on your blog, Stuart!  

Readers can find me at:

Lexa's Blog: http://lexacain.blogspot.com/
Lexa on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/lexa.cain.1

SOUL CUTTER on:

AMAZON: http://www.amazon.com/Soul-Cutter-Lexa-Cain-ebook/dp/B00H2WCTMQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386174417&sr=1-1
AMAZON UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Soul-Cutter-Lexa-Cain-ebook/dp/B00H2WCTMQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1391908250&sr=8-1&keywords=soul+cutter
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LX Cain on Twitter: https://twitter.com/LXCain

Biggun, The Mission, and The Inter-Galactic Gourmet on:

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