It was foretold in an ancient scripture where it was written that an End of Days would occur; The Four Horsemen would break the Sacred Seals of the Apocalypse and Satan would be unleashed upon this Earth to do
battle with God and the all the powers of Heaven. Or so they said... at least.
Except the Apocalypse didn't quite pan out as everyone expected.
The rapture never happened.
God could give a shit less about the
Apocalypse and more about chicken pot pies.
Jesus is losing miserably at a card
table in Vegas sucking back vodka Red Bulls for the first time in his life.
The Antichrist is a miserable failure
whose reign is over before it starts thanks to the efforts of an old woman.
The Four Horsement are a bunch of
degenerate fuckups appearing on a sleazy daytime talkshow on a weekday morning; Death is
having second thoughts about his given profession, War is jealous of
Death for taking all the credit, Famine is an overweight
obscenity-spewing loudmouthed bitch about to kill her horse with her own fat
ass and Pestilence is just plain stoned out of his fucking mind on enough drugs to make
Keith Richards, Hunter S. Thompson and Charlie Sheen all blush.
Satan, the Dark Lord himself, is trying
to come up out of Hell and make his grand entrance upon the Earth at
Burning Man... ass first.
Fortunately a mass hippie orgy of Guinness world
record proportions delays his progress, but it can only hold out for
so long.
Well what else could go wrong?
In a word: Lots.
It's up to a bathtub acid addled
janitor, a band of militant lesbians, a ball-gagged sheriff's deputy
(don't ask), a porn store clerk with his one-armed drug loving
junkmonkey and a possessed toy to kick the Apocalypse's ass. Throw in
angels, demons, evil floating gloryhole boxes, an army of zombies,
possessed priests and a team of government agents armed with a cease
and desist order for Lucifer and you have the most bizarro tale of
the end of the world ever, in fact it's @b$---- *
(*- Sorry, Tim copyrighted the fucking
phrase for a million dollars an utterance, that's more than I'll ever
hope to make in this life.)
Scott G. Browne, author of Breathers
called it: “Disgusting, offensive, irreverent, and profane,
Wacktards of the Apocalypse is all kinds of wrong. But in a good way.
Jonathan Moon and Timothy W. Long are going to Hell for sure.”
Fellow mass zombie novelist Jonathan Maberry called the book something akin to "Douglas Adams on magic mushrooms."
Timothy Long and Jonathon M-o-o-n (that
spells Moon) take the most fun and fucked up trip to Las Vegas since
Thompson's Fear and Loathing in Wacktards of the Apocalypse. The
books original form, The Apocalypse and Satans Gloryhole managed to
offend, literally, every single religion possible (including a
raven-toting Pagan at a Seattle Crypticon) before going out of
print. It was later released under the name Wacktards of the Apocalypse before going out of print quickly as well. Thanks to e-books the book was re-released in it's original Gloryhole form.
Those easily offended by religion or sex needn't bother here. It's not for the feint of heart either as the marks it leaves could be permanent. All religious kidding aside the story is hilarious and I had a hard time putting it down. What crazy sort of fucked up shit (and I do mean Shit in certain instances) would happen next? Long and Moon go waaaay off the deep end with this tale. But like the onset of a hallucinogenic experience you have to just relax, open your mind and go where ever it's going to take you. So go out and pick up the book that is approved by 4 out 5 Rapture survivors. Just for God's sake don't tell your priest about it at confession; the amount of blasphemies would make the Pope stagger and you'd spend the next week saying Hail Mary's to make up for it.
Those easily offended by religion or sex needn't bother here. It's not for the feint of heart either as the marks it leaves could be permanent. All religious kidding aside the story is hilarious and I had a hard time putting it down. What crazy sort of fucked up shit (and I do mean Shit in certain instances) would happen next? Long and Moon go waaaay off the deep end with this tale. But like the onset of a hallucinogenic experience you have to just relax, open your mind and go where ever it's going to take you. So go out and pick up the book that is approved by 4 out 5 Rapture survivors. Just for God's sake don't tell your priest about it at confession; the amount of blasphemies would make the Pope stagger and you'd spend the next week saying Hail Mary's to make up for it.
Interesting side note and ending thought to the story, I seemingly coined the term "junk monkey" calling the book to Tim "More fun than a barrel of JunkMonkeys" and he thus renamed a chapter in honor of it in Wacktards which was not named as such in it's original Gloryhole release.
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| Also, beware if you see this monkey on the streets of Seattle, he probably needs his next fix and throws a wicked mean left cross... fucking Phil |
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