Horror legend John Skipp read my book and liked it enough to write this incredible review for Fangoria. First of all, just knowing Skipp read and liked my book is enough to make my nose bleed, but then I get a review in Fangoria? I’ve been a Fangoria fan my entire life. This is just one of those moments I won’t ever forget.
Please go check out the review. I’ve read it about fifteen times already today.
My newest novel out from Thunderstorm Books. I think there might be 6 copies left, so go grab one while you can. Black Voltage edition already sold out.
What if eating the walking dead was the only way to ensure you don’t become one?
Shortly after you die, you wake up. Lost, confused, and scared. It happens to everyone. But if you ingest the meat of the dead, you can avoid this fate. You can rest in peace. People fear death, fear the unknown, so they eat their portion of dead meat every day, even though the meat itself takes away their ability to have children. But if you consume too much of it, or the meat is properly aged, it becomes a highly addictive drug, transforming those who are addicted—the meatheads—into emaciated husks of their former selves, only able to focus on getting their next fix.
Paco’s family is dead, and he is alone…until his dead little sister Sophia speaks. But the dead can’t talk, can’t think. Sophia is special, maybe the link between the living and the dead, and Paco takes her to the city to find a doctor that can help her, figure out what’s making her so…alive. But Paco and Sophia quickly find out that the city isn’t safe, that the streets are infested with meatheads. And that they are the only children there.
Calico, the city’s most feared killer, works for Ted Fleet, the man behind Ted Fleet’s Dead Meats, the leading dead meat company in the country—but Ted Fleet is also in charge of the city’s illegal meat distribution and Corpse Snuff business. Ted Fleet is holding Calico’s dead daughter Beauty hostage while he forces the killer to go out on jobs for him. Then Calico is sent to pick up a little dead girl, one that can talk, can think like she’s alive. Calico hopes maybe this girl can help Beauty, that maybe she is the key to changing everything. But when he finds out Ted Fleet’s plans for her, he knows he has to stop him.
From the disturbed mind of Shane McKenzie comes this extreme tale of the undead.
Also, just a quick note. Drawn & Quartered is now officially sold out. Not sure what the plans are yet for those four novellas, but I will update here.
And here we have the new novella from Deadite’s newest author, Erik Williams. I have trouble summarizing things, especially if it’s my own work, but with Erik’s book, it goes a little something like this: Meth addicted Bigfoot. I could go on about how fucking insane this book is, but did I really have to say more than those three words before you already decided to had to read this thing? And trust me, the images you have in your head of what a book about a meth-addicted Bigfoot would be about, yeah, it be about that. And way more. I won’t lie. Not a huge Bigfoot fan. I mean, I loved Harry and the Hendersons, but who didn’t? But anything involving Bigfoot isn’t usually something I’m into. Unless, of course, there’s meth involved, and Bigfoot himself is hooked on it. Also, I’m already familiar with Erik’s work, so knowing he tackled this subject made me even more eager to read it. I was not disappointed. In fact, this book had me laughing and cringing and applauding. You don’t know Erik Williams? I do believe it’s time to unfuck that, yeah?
Still not convinced? Look at the cover!
Now, why don’t you hit up my buddy Erik’s website and see what he had to say about a little book about cannibals at the Mexican border.
http://erikwilliams.blogspot.com/2013/03/now-available-from-deadite-press.html
My new novel from Deadite Press!
Human flesh tacos, hardcore wrestling, and angry cannibal Mexicans
Welcome to the Border!
The no-man’s land on the United States/Mexico border is the perfect place for getting away with any crime. With the right connections and with the right amount of money you can run drugs, smuggle people, commit murder, and do much worse.
Felix and Marta came to Mexico to film a documentary on illegal immigration. When Marta suddenly goes missing, Felix must find his lost love in the small border town. A dangerous place housing corrupt cops, borderline maniacs, and something much more worse than drug gangs, something to do with a strange Mexican food cart…
From Shane McKenzie, one of the most imaginative new voices in horror comes a south of the border Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
This one is short. My first ever gross out contest entry. This one took first place at Killercon 2011.
Sunday Soup
The boy had expected the smell, Father had warned him about it. Like cat food left in the sun. A smell so thick and salty, it made him salivate.
But he hadn’t expected the clit ring, dangling from between Grandma’s legs. The gold was obviously fake because the pulsating, engorged clit was covered in a green film, spreading like algae to the flabby, jaundiced flesh surrounding it.
Grandma rubbed it in a circular motion with her fore and middle fingers, hacking on phlegm as she moaned. The loose, spotted flesh of her inner thighs hung down like moldy bread dough.
Grandpa stood next to her and used his thumbnails to pop the engorged boils on the shaft and head of his wrinkly cock, and as the bloody pus bubbled out, milky red, he slathered himself with it. His balls hung low as if his scrotum were made of taffy. He reached over and massaged Grandma’s deflated breast, his foot tapping in rhythm with his stroking.
Sunday soup, a family tradition. But it was a special Sunday for the boy, the day he turned thirteen, the day he became a man. Father told him he would have the honors of extracting the soup’s brothy base from Grandma.
So with an assuring nudge from Father, the boy took tentative steps toward Grandma until there was a knee on either side of his head. As he leaned in, an odiferous mist beaded onto his forehead and upper lip. The smell crept into his throat, choked him, threatened to suck the contents of his stomach out onto the kitchen floor.
But he couldn’t do that. It would ruin everything.
So, he stuck out his tongue, just like Father told him to, and slid it into the warm, quivering maw; the tuft of silver hair tickled his nose. Grandma moaned and hissed, released a wad of phlegm that she swallowed back down.
The boy looked up into Grandpa’s eyes as the old man popped another boil into his palm and got to rubbing his hands together before grabbing hold of himself again, releasing a smell like roast beef.
Then Grandma screamed. She reached down, grabbed hold of the boy’s hair and yanked. He kept at it, pushing his outstretched tongue in and out of her, feeling her flesh get wetter and wetter as she screamed again and nearly ripped his scalp from his skull.
Then it came. Just like Father said it would. Rhythmic bursts of hot, salty fluid, like polluted seawater, bubbling like club soda against his face. And the boy opened wide and let it rush down his throat.
It’s going to need spice, Father had said. Nothing like a little stomach acid to give it a kick. And once that last spurt rolled down his throat, the boy calmly walked to the boiling pot, got a pat on the back from Father, and unleashed a waterfall of bile and octogenarian cum.
And just an extra dash of salt as Grandpa finished into the pot.
Father stirred it, widened his nostrils, and inhaled. “Perfect,” he said. “Let’s eat.”
Hello, everybody. I’m ready to give more shit away. I’m going to give away two copies of Jacked. So, since it’s the new year, and a lot of us made resolutions to lose weight or get in shape, I figure let’s go with that. If you’re like me, this is not the first time getting in shape has been a resolution. I’ve spent a lot of time in gyms, which was the inspiration behind Jacked. Tell me about an embarrassing moment at the gym. Did you fly off a treadmill? Did you drop a fucking dumbbell on your head? Did you get caught staring at a woman’s ass in yoga class? Anything.
One time, I don’t know maybe ten years ago, it was raining and I decided to hit the gym. I was doing leg press. I did my set just fine, but then decided to do my calves too, so I was lifting the weights with my toes. Well, my shoes were slippery, and the whole fucking thing came crashing down on my knees when my shoes slipped off. And everyone saw and heard it. About five big ass buff dudes had to run over and pull it off of me. Yeah…that was awesome.
I’ll pick my two favorites!
Crow, a massive musclebound beast of a man, has been banned from the All Day Fitness because he was caught selling steroids in the locker room. But he won’t stop coming back. There are rumors that he spent time in prison and that he is borderline insane. Sid and Gabe are working the graveyard shift and were told to call the police if Crow showed back up…but the phones are dead. Even their cell phones won’t work. Then they notice the slime in the street, running through it like a green, bubbling river. They go outside to investigate, see first hand what the slime does to the people it touches…what it turns them into. Trapped inside of the gym with Crow and with countless slimy, bloated people pressed up against the glass outside and the river steadily rising, they begin to wonder if they would be safer outside than in.
My newest novella from Severed Press! A quick fun ride, covered and dripping with slime! Book giveaway coming soon!
