http://larrycorreia.wordpress.com/2008/ ... tmas-noun/I’ve noticed a trend. Richard Paul Evans wrote The Christmas Box and The Christmas Letters. Then there was the Christmas Jars by Jason Wright. Now we’ve got the Christmas Sweater by Glenn Beck. Notice anything? All best-selling novels. All written by Mormons!
So as a novelist and a Mormon, I too am entitled to write a best-selling Christmas novel. Now I’m a slightly different type of novelist than the gentlemen above, so I’m not sure how this is going to work out. So I am proud to present to you, gentle reader, excerpts from the upcoming, as of yet untitled, Larry Correia Christmas novel project: THE CHRISTMAS (insert noun here).
I will, of course, come up with whatever the noun is as I go along. I’m thinking cookies. Or maybe a tree… or something. Inevitably however, everything I write seems to turn back into rampaging monsters or terrorist plots. Go figure. So here are some excerpts from my rough draft of THE CHRISTMAS NOUN:
From Chapter 7.
BOOM
Tim used his Santa hat to wipe the gore from his face. “Man… who would have thought that old people still contained that much blood! They look so dried out, but it’s like they’re pressurized or something…”
“Tim!” Sally screamed. “The portal is getting bigger. Something is coming through! Something big and evil!”
There was a scream of incomprehensible terror from the portal to hell. “HO HO HO” Then a sleigh made of bone and chaos exploded into our world in a flash of fire and a stink of corruption, pulled by eight tiny Hell-Deer, being whipped onward by a horned demon in a jolly red suit wielding a cat-o-nine tails made of Christmas lights and barbed wire.
“On Stalin! On Hitler! On Sodom and Fred!” shouted the demon at its hell-deer. “On Carrot-Top! On O.J. Simpson! On Rosanne Barr! Move your lazy ass, Ted Kennedy! Ho Ho Ho!” His belly shook like a bowl full of jelly. Poison jelly-fish that is!
“Santa?” Sally asked stupidly, as Sally was actually pretty dim-witted, but she was really easy on the eyes.
“No,” Tim said as he pumped another 12 gauge slug into the chamber. “It’s the Anti-Clause.”
“I’m checking my list, and checking it twice, and now I’m going to swallow your souls,” bellowed the Anti-Clause.
“Not if the Christmas (Noun) and my Black Tiger Style Kung-Fu can help it!” Tim shouted.
***
As many of you may remember, last year I started a Christmas tradition. I released snippets of my as-of-yet unpublished epic Christmas novel, the Christmas (Noun). http://larrycorreia.wordpress.com/2008/ ... tmas-noun/ (which I recommend that you read first, so this will make more sense)
It is a tale of forgiveness, redemption, love, and Black Tiger kung-fu. Yet, because the Christmas (Noun) was such an amazing story, so far beyond any other work of great traditional literature (like Moby Dick, or Schlock Mercenary) that I’ve yet to find a traditional publisher daring enough to buy this story of Christmas awesomeness. My regular publisher asked me if I was off my anti-psychotic medications again, and yes, I was, but that’s entirely beside the point.
So despite this, (and egged on because all those other Mormon writers keep making billions off their Christmas novels featuring Jars, Letters, Sweaters, and other nouns), I have produced The Christmas (Noun) 2. Market research has not yet determined what the noun will be at this time. I’m still working on that.
So, ladies and gentlemen readers of Monster Hunter Nation, I present to you, snippets of the epic masterpiece, The Christmas (Noun) 2: The (Noun)ening:
http://larrycorreia.wordpress.com/2009/ ... nounening/
From Chapter 1.
“I am the Ghost of Christmas Past,” said the ghost of Christmas past.
Tim frowned suspiciously. “I don’t know… you look a lot like that one dude, what’s his face? Christopher Walken.” And as we all know that is kind of scary. I mean, have you watched the Prophecy? Holy crap.
The Ghost of Christmas Past paused and adjusted his bowtie. “Maybe, but contractually, I cannot comment. A man’s gotta work you know. Now are you listening or not?”
“Sure,” Tim shrugged. “But I don’t get it. I already saved Christmas last year. I learned the true spirit of the Christmas (noun), fought the Anti-Claus in the Peppermint Thunderdome, and rescued Hulk Hogan and a bunch of puppies… what else do you people want from me?”
The Ghost of Christmas Past handed Tim a big stainless .45 automatic. “Christmas needs you, Tim. To save it… in the FUTURE!”
Tim took the gun. “You know, this violates the heck out of my parole.”
***
