Jeff Strand: A Bad Day for Voodoo

The dead thugs in the garage thing kept coming up, but because they didn’t believe in the voodoo doll, ultimately, the authorities decided that I was just stupid enough to risk my life to get my mom’s car back. Ribeye’s death was indeed ruled an act of cannibalism, but without a cannibal available to match the dental marks, there wasn’t much they could do.

The Basers all went to prison, because freedom of religion does not include the right to conduct human sacrifices in your home.

Zeke, the cabdriver, was never found. He’s probably still lurking out there. somewhere. perhaps watching you at this very moment.

Regarding the algebra equation of how mad my parents would be, it was about two weeks of “Oh, we’re so glad to have our precious little boy back!” and then about two months of “You will suffer for the emotional trauma you inflicted upon us!” My mom did eventually get her car back, though.

The investigation kept going on and on, but then I started noticing tall men in black suits hanging around, looking stern, and then the mayor announced that the investigation into the strange events surrounding the death of Mr. Click was being concluded and that everything had been officially ruled a tragic accident. I don’t know what that’s about.

Adam and I are still friends. After his initial reluctance, he started to get an ego about the whole Chosen One thing, but I put a stop to that.

Then there was an extremely awkward misunderstanding where I thought Kelley was developing a crush on him because of the whole Chosen One thing, but I had merely misinterpreted some signals, and it was all very embarrassing, and we worked it out.

Our new history teacher, Mr. Venison, was way meaner than Mr. Click.

And, well, I guess that’s it for now. Things have settled down, and I’m getting good grades, and I’m starting to think about college. So thanks for reading. I apologize if there were any grammar issues. I hope you liked the book, and until more weird stuff starts to happen that I need to write about, “All Hail He Who Shall Save Us from the Hobgoblins.”

COMING SOON

A Bad Day for Witchcraft

A Bad Day for Sorcery

A Bad Day for Necromancy

A Bad Day for Hypnosis

A Bad Day for Levitation

A Bad Day for Astral Projection

A Bad Day for Snake Charming

A Bad Day for Demonic Possession

A Bad Day for Cryogenics

A Bad Day for Ventriloquism

A Bad Day for Yoga

A Bad Day for Voodoo II

A Bad Day for Drinking Poison

A Good Day for Dancing

A Bad Day for Shameless Cash-Ins

A Bad Day for Voodoo 3-D

A Bad Day for Eating Stuff off the Ground

A Bad Day for That Guy Who’s About to Be Hit by a Bus

A Bad Day for Slugs

A Bad Day for Voodoo (rewrite)

A Bad Day for Nudity

A Bad Day for the Olympics

A Mediocre Day for Walking

A Bad Day for Taxation without Representation

A Bad Day for Lady Gaga

A Bad Day for Voodoo II (rewrite)

Harry Potter v. A Bad Day for Voodoo

A Bad Day for Licorice

A Bad Day for Taunting Llamas

A Bad Day for Sequels

Are you still reading?

Ummmm.. .I’m out of story. Sorry. I assumed that everybody would have given up by now. I’ve said everything I wanted to say, and yeah, I guess I failed to fully explore a thematic element or two, but that was on purpose.

Hmm. Maybe you have a younger brother or sister who wants to read this book, but as a responsible older sibling, you’ve said “NO!!! There’s too much blood! You’ll have nightmares!” In that case, let’s give them something they can read!

Riddle: How do you make a voodoo doll float?

Answer: Two scoops of ice cream, some root beer, and a voodoo doll!

Actually, I think voodoo dolls float anyway. At least the ones made out of light fabric do. But it’s still kind of a funny riddle, right?

Okay, look, this book wasn’t meant for your little brother or

sister. If they’re all like “Lemme read it! Lemme read it!” tell them that they have to wait until they’re old enough to think that people losing body parts is funny, because that’s basically the whole book.

Oh.. .one more thing. Did you leave a five-star review online to help balance out all the one-star reviews this thing is going to get? That would be appreciated. I mean, don’t lie in your review or anything like that, but feel free to exaggerate. If you thought it was only three stars, maybe you were tired and had other things on your mind while you were reading it, and you didn’t truly appreciate every little nuance, like that part where I was talking to the Rottweiler. There is so much nuance in that scene that you wouldn’t even believe all of it if I told you.

I’m not asking you to commit fraud on online review sites. Certainly not. I’m just saying that if you didn’t think this book deserves five stars out of five, you might have been too worried about global warming to fully concentrate.

Your call. No pressure.

Anyway, the book is over now. Move along. Go read A Confederacy of Dunces.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

No book is the work of just one person. You need other people to tell you which parts you messed up. So, in alphabetical order by last name, because that’s the way I roll, thank you to Tod Clark, Lynne Hansen, Leah Hultenschmidt, Adrienne Jones, Michael McBride, Jim Morey, Rick Moschgat, Shane Ryan Staley, Rhonda Wilson, and Kristin Zelazko for their sharp, cruel eyes.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jeff Strand is the author of a bunch of books. Most of them are meant to be funny. He lives in Tampa, Florida, and doesn’t believe in voodoo, though he still thinks you should carry a doll around, go up to people you don’t like, and chuckle while you jab it with pins just to make them squirm. Poke around his gleefully macabre website at www.jeffstrand.com.