Here in Cambodia I’ve had the chance to befriend noted pulp-fiction writer John Fontaine (I know there are a lot of John Fontaines in the world, but I’m talking about the noted pulp-fiction writer here) who recently discussed his idea for a new novel involving bovine vampires (“bovampires”). A mutual friend of ours was quick to point out that Marvel Comics already has Bessie the Hellcow, but Mr. Fontaine insisted his idea evolved from the Khmer word for mosquito (sounds like “moo”) and then imagining hordes of so-called “moosquitoes” and the havoc they might cause.
Anyway, exclusive for you, loyal Bobsoldout.com readers, is the opening passage of John Fontaine’s Cows, Cowards, Cowboys, and Vampires: The Rise of Count Cowcula (currently in the early writing stages):
It was a dark and stormy night and The Cowboys were mad wailing on guitars in their band’s converted practice space, known simply as, The Barn. With amps cranked up to 11 (i.e., 110% of capacity, which you might think is physically impossible unless you’ve been to a Cowboys’ concert) the mad sounds of The Cowboys’ alterna-western funk (post-)Rock rang out all over the town of Rural Bucolia, though tonight on account of the storm most of Rural Bucolia didn’t respond with the usual barrage of noise complaints. And even if they had the police didn’t like going out to The Barn anyway, especially on account of rumors that the head Cowboy, Honcho Max, was mad — not just in terms of wailing guitar skills or producing sounds — but in terms of unpredictability. He was what some might call, an 8-ball.
Which is why no one believed him (or really even took notice) when, after a long flash of lightning, he remarked, “Dude, I think that cow just ate an electric bat.”
You read it here first, people.