There's things out there that you ain't dreamed of. Like back-from-the-dead mountainmen, carrion stallions and zombified buffalo. LONG HORN, BIG SHAGGY: A wild wierd western tale of horror and jerked meat. If Louis Lamour and Stephen King got drunk and made a cosmic voodoo lovechild - they'd baptise it LONG HORN, BIG SHAGGY. Buy it now from Black Death Books.
"synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title.
"I wanted to write a tale that reminded me of a ride through a carnival funhouse. Creaking and shaking and rubber-suited booga-booga-boogeymen. This is the one you've been waiting for. If you liked REANIMATOR, TREMORS, or Fulci's ZOMBIE then this books for you. Fun and scary. Pull up a rock and give a listen. I guarantee you'll never look at a severed head the same way again.From the Inside Flap:
LONG HORN, BIG SHAGGY is absolutely brilliant. A wonderful, twisted tale that's perfect for campfires and stormy nights. Steve Vernon has excelled as a writer and is one of the finest new talents of horror and dark fiction. - Owl Goingback, Bram Stoker Award Winning author of CROTA.
(from the inside cover) NIGHT OF THE LIVING HEAD...
The blasted-off crawler head, laying in the tangle of jumping chollo cactus, wasn't thinking too much about the cactus thorns spitted through the right side of its face. The head wasn't thinking about the dangly bits hanging from out of its neck. It wasn't thinking about the shattered ruin of its left eye, pulped into a jelly of blood and viscuous goo. Its cheekbone beneath the eye, sunken like a forgotten prairie grave. Nor its nose, a grotesque splash of flesh spread across the center of its face, with tiny white shards of bone glinting from the raspberryish mess.
It wasn't thinking about much at all, but hunger. A deep empty hunger. The kind of hunger that all the frypans in the world couldn't fix nor fill.
There was blood on the chollo. His blood, but it didn't matter to the head. He took a biteful, chewing on the chollo as the thorns tore hell out of his tongue and mouth. The bitter juices of the chollo burned and mingled with the head's black watery blood and the runnels of torn up tongue meat.
He was mostly eating himself, but he told himself it didn't matter. Sometimes that was all there was left to do...
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Book Description KHP Publisher, 2004. Paperback. Book Condition: New. book. Bookseller Inventory # 097476809X