Another Free Book!

othelloandzombies_kindleI had so much fun giving away Desert During Day of the Dead that I wanted to give you another freebie. Please enjoy Othello and Zombies. It will be free until Nov. 11th.  But that’s not all, I’m doing another group giveaway with books about humans versus nature.

Remember, if you like what you are reading from me, please leave reviews or tell your friends. Small things like that help connect authors to readers.

Xmas Elf: Secret Agent will be here soon. It will be out Black Friday (11/23). You can get it on paperback, so consider nabbing a copy for your office gift exchange, as a gift to give someone a laugh, or maybe even if you need that little bit extra to get that free shipping.


Othello and Zombies Free Book and More


While we wait to find out the fate of Time Burrito, I wanted to thank everyone via the offer of a free kindle book. What better book to offer for free than Othello and Zombies? They were written at almost the exact same time. I was barely on the first act of Othello and Zombies when the plot of a man traveling through time for the perfect burrito just popped into my head (or maybe I was hungry). So I switched off writing them with only a minor break to release Othello and Zombies. Please enjoy the free copy by clicking here, and also while you are there, check out the audiobook of Othello and Zombies. It’s read by Michael Burnette, the fantastic narrator who produced Time Agency. What’s even better is that you can get the Othello and Zombies audiobook for free too by signing up for a free trial of Audible. That’s a whole lotta free! Enjoy and thank you again.


Check out the audiobook by clicking the graphic below:



The Zombies Are Here


I ate they brains ere I killed thee…

Othello and Zombies is now officially out on kindle and in paperback. Even better, it will be only 99 cents for the kindle edition from now until the end of October! The book is a modern horror comedy-Shakespeare mashup. Here’s a preview of the first two chapters:

Chapter 1

Rodriguez leaned on the metal door. Bloody hands slipped through the cracks, clawing and grasping at him, hungry for his flesh. “Yo, man! Give me a clip!”

Iago, leaning against the other entrance to the dank sewer room, yelled, “You used your clip ration already. These bullets are mine!”

As if to accentuate his point, Iago blasted the head of a flesh-eating scullion that poked its dripping maw through the ever-widening crack in the door.

“Are you really going to bring up rations now?” Rodriguez yelped while he pulled a box cutter from his belt and nicked a rotted pinky finger.

“Use your machete!” Two more head shots. Two more bodies.

“It got stuck in the skull of a scullion trying to eat my brain!”

“You always do this! Every time we go on patrol, you miss half your targets and have to use my ammunition. It’s no wonder Othello doesn’t relegate you to domestics because of your sorry track record.”

“You’re just jealous because he picked Casey as his second.”

“Fuck you, man! I earned that. My scullion count is way higher than anyone else’s! There’s a pile of bodies in my wake a mile high, and here I am, about to die in a goddamn hole with you because you have a hard-on for the boss’s wife!”

“Oh sweet Desdemona, I’d make her mona, if you know what I mean.”

The momentary distraction was all it took. The scullions burst through Rodriguez’s doorway. He flew back and hit his head against a low-hanging pipe and went down for the count.

Iago stumbled back from his door. He pulled another gun from his belt. The horde of scullions flooded into the room through both doors. He stretched out his arms on either side. The muzzles flashed as round after round tore through the air. The corpses piled up, but the pack surged forward.

A scullion with a jawline that was more bone than flesh went for Iago’s arm. Another with hollow sockets for eyes went for his thigh. In the end, it wasn’t Rodriguez’s fault. The jerk never had a handle on reality. The man told everyone he was a tax accountant before the apocalypse, when in reality, he dressed up as the Statue of Liberty and waved signs around every tax season.

The person that Iago really blamed for his death was Othello, the self-proclaimed president of the new world order. The asshole had the audacity to walk around like he was Obama or something when he was nothing more than a jobless bum before the scullions came.

Iago should have been the one to inherit the earth. He won Survivor three times. He was in talks about his own show. He was slated to become the next fucking Bear Grylls, and Othello wanted to put Casey as the second in command of what could be the only pocket of humanity left on the planet! Casey was a manager at an In-N-Out Burger before the end, not the next Mad Max.

Maybe humans deserved to die, except for maybe today. Iago kicked the scullion going for his thigh and landed another headshot in the one going for his arm. He sent two rounds after the two that were going after Rodriguez’s unconscious form. Once his clips ran dry, he pulled two swords from his back. It was a daishō set he had liberated from this asshole producer he used to tolerate for the sake of television.

The producer called the swords a “Kitana” and “Wakisaucy” and would brag about how a real ninja used “those very blades to get revenge.” The asshole told the story during every party at his house, and they partied at his house almost every week. Iago would roll his eyes at the inaccuracies and would keep his mouth shut because he knew how to play the Hollywood “everybody is your friend” game. When laws and Hollywood parties ceased to have meaning anymore, Iago spray-painted, “READ ABOUT SAMURAI FUCKFACE” above the empty case of the swords. However, the chances of the producer being scullion food and unable to read Iago’s snide comment were high.

In the time since, Iago had used the weapons to get himself out of many situations like today’s. He sliced a scullion in the skull with his Katana. Another went for his back, and he stabbed it in the eye socket with the Wakizashi. He stabbed another, whirled around, killed two more, and chopped his way through the horde.

When the last one knelt in front of him, as he had hacked off its legs at the knees, he yelled, “Thou villainous pottle-deep devil-mon!”

With one swoop, the head rolled from the scullion to the other side of the room. Its teeth chattered, as Iago had left the brain intact. He turned to the pile of bodies near Rodriguez. He kicked the corpses off of him and noticed one was still alive, and gnawing on his fallen partner’s right hand. Iago cursed and poked his sword through the back of the scullion’s skull.

He ripped off Rodriguez’s sleeve and created a tourniquet using a pen he kept in his pocket. While he was tightening the wrap, Rodriguez began to stir and looked down at his arm.

“What are you doing?” Rodriguez yelped.

“You’ve been bitten,” Iago said. He positioned his blade over his comrade’s arm and gripped it.

“There must be some other way. I can…”

The blade came down, and Rodriguez screamed. Iago used a portable propane torch to cauterize the wound, and his ill-fated companion passed out long before the job was finished. Finally, after Rodriguez was as stable as he could be, Iago laid on the ground for a few moments. They had been scavenging for days. Food stores in the camp were dwindling. Iago had nothing substantial to eat in a while. The adrenaline high that had kept him going receded. Iago’s vision went dim, and he passed out.


The scullion head that Iago had decapitated fluttered his jaws in anticipation of the meal. The jawline could be seen through the rotting flesh. It swayed back and forth until it toppled face first onto the floor. It landed in such a way that every time involuntary muscles attempted to bite at the ground, the teeth caught and inched the head forward. The head slowly made its way towards the sleeping form of Iago. Tasty flesh sprawled out for the plucking.

It was a mere nose length away from its target if it had any nose rather than the tattered flesh that remained of its olfactory organ. Just as it was about to bite down on the tasty flesh of the sleeping man, a peg leg came down on the scullion’s skull and pierced its brain. The abomination died.

The owner of the unusually sharp peg leg was accompanied by another set of boots that were worn and tattered, as they were designed for day trips into the woods. It had been two years since the television stations stopped broadcasting, and the once shiny gear that gleamed on the shelves of sporting goods stores throughout the country was now worn and battle hardened.

“Ask them the questions,” the owner of the boots said.

“I’m not going to ask your stupid questions,” the peg leg man responded.

“I’m telling you. The questions offer insight into their character. They will let us know if they are worthy of joining our clan!”

“It’s a township, not a clan!”

“Haven’t you read any post-apocalyptic fiction? People revert to tribal…”

“If those questions are so important to you, why don’t you ask them the goddamn questions?” The peg leg punched his partner, and his partner hit back. The two were quickly locked in a tussle.

Iago had been feigning sleep. The moment he heard the two scuffle, he sprang into action. With a flick of his wrist, his two blades were up in the crotches of the two gentlemen who had saved him while he slumbered.

The men froze in their tracks. From the torn clothes, the grime under their fingernails, and the scruff of their beards, Iago could tell these men had seen a lot of action. That gave him some hope because he knew that only an idiot would try to test Iago now. Not that he had expected to see any idiots. Most of them got themselves killed in the first few months after the scullions arrived.

“What questions? And what town?” Iago demanded. He was pretty sure Othello’s kingdom was the only one left in Southern California. Othello had united the gangs pretty early. They were used to being shit on by society, so the scullion apocalypse wasn’t anything different. When the National Guard, the LAPD, and the Army fell, Othello welcomed the survivors into his conclave too. Othello only had two rules: If you were human, you were in. If you harmed a human, you were scullion bait.

Iago thought it was stupid to let people in, but it had somehow worked for a while. People kept coming, pooling supplies, and helping each other. It took the scullion apocalypse to get the residents of L.A. County to help each other out, but they did. Othello built a wall around parts of Watts, Lynwood, Willowbrook, and Compton to keep the scullion bastards from feasting on their flesh, and life continued inside the wall as close as it could be to life before.

However, paradise never lasted forever.

Farming in an urban area with polluted chemicals from the leftover wasteland of the city, not to mention a fucking desert, proved harder to work with than originally thought. Crops failed. Yields were low. The food from the world long ago began to dwindle. The rationing started. The scouts had to go further and further to find less and less. Iago knew it was a mistake to trust people when resources were scarce.

“The questions are sort of a personality test…” the man with the boots said. Iago didn’t know what to make of them. However, unlike Othello, who just seemed to trust anyone that wasn’t a scullion, Iago was a little more cautious. When Iago didn’t cut off the man’s genitals right away, he elaborated. “They are harmless questions. Meant to define your character.”

“Oh, give me a break,” the peg leg man said.

“Hold on, I got this,” the boot man said. “Since it all started, how many walkers have you killed?”

“Walkers?” Iago said.

“Undead, eat-your-brain types. See your head and say, Nom, nom, nom!” He made fake biting gestures. Iago was about to just kill the fools and get it over with when the man with the boots added, “You know, every post-apocalyptic group has a different name for them. This group from Gallup, New Mexico called ‘em biters, whereas we call ‘em walkers.”

“You mean the rampallian, fustilarian scullions! I’ve killed too many to count,” Iago said. He let the swords drop, and the men visibly relaxed. He was interested now. His sister, Emilia, had been in Albuquerque when the apocalypse struck. He hadn’t heard what happened to her, or to anyone in New Mexico, for that matter, and there was a lot of desert to cross between L.A. and Albuquerque.

“So how many humans have you killed?”

“You don’t ask a person you’ve just met that!” the peg leg man cried. “Hi, how are you? My name’s Tony. How many people have you killed?”

“It’s all part of the process. Trust the process,” the boot man replied.

“Eleven,” Iago cut them off.

“Why?” the boot man said with all seriousness.

“Why what?” Iago said.

“Why’d you kill them?”

“The scullions or the humans? You’re being a little vague.”

“I told you they were stupid questions!” the man with the peg leg yelled.

“No, they ain’t!” the boot man argued. “I’m telling you there is no better way to find out if they can come back with us to New Mexico.”

The swords were swift. Before they were able to blink, their crotches were in peril again. “What’s in New Mexico?”

“We have a base! A military base in Albuquerque!” the boot man cried.

Iago pressed the swords harder against their jeans.

“Look, we can take you there, but the Brigadier, he don’t take kindly to strangers, especially ones who threaten his own,” the peg leg man offered. “You’ll need to surrender your weapons.”

“So you can rob me?” Iago said as he pressed, literally and figuratively.

“Do you think we would waste time trying to rob two capable men like yourself? We are on an important mission from the Brigadier.” The peg leg man said.

Swords biting denim, Iago said, “Who’s the Brigadier?”

“He runs the base!” the man with the boots cried out. “Please don’t hurt us! We’ll tell you anything you want.”

The man with the peg leg slapped his partner. “That man is on a need-to-know basis, and he does not need to know.”

“I’m also the one with the sword,” Iago said. And with a swish of his blade, the man with the peg leg collapsed to the ground in fear, blood, and pain. He was now missing much more than a peg could fix. “Now, if you don’t want to end up like your friend here, I suggest you tell me everything.”


Sometime later in the day, Iago slung the wounded Rodriguez over his shoulder. He walked to the top of an overpass. There were a few abandoned vehicles here and there. A few even had rotted scullions inside twitching and gnawing at the windows as they passed. The day was hot, and the sun was blazing overhead. Iago wouldn’t last long, but he had to see it for himself.

He crested the overpass and left Rodriguez leaning against a burned-out European sports car. He walked to the edge and gazed at the freeway below. The freeway was surprisingly clear for a very long stretch of road. Most of the roads were pot marked and cluttered with vehicles. This freeway, in particular, was just clear enough to act as a runway for a plane.

The plane in question was a large military C-130 transport. It was big enough to hold an army, yet the only two people using it were peg leg and boots. They were given the mission to find survivors and bring them back to Albuquerque. To Iago, it was freedom. He even knew how to fly a plane. Iago had never flown a C-130, though he figured that the principles were the same. He also knew of a library where he could dig around for some manuals on the way back. It couldn’t hurt to do some prep work.

He pulled some bloody keys from his pocket. They were the keys to the plane. He inspected them and grinned to himself. He pocketed the keys and walked back towards Rodriguez.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” he said as he picked up his friend. “We are getting out of this urban hellhole, but first, we need to make a stop at home and get you patched up. Don’t worry; we’ll be back. There is no use in letting a perfectly good plane go to waste.”

Chapter 2

Rodriguez dreamt of bacon, a large hot skillet of bacon, sizzling, nice and crispy, and ready to be eaten. His mouth watered and his stomach grumbled. He could almost smell the salty goodness. However, there was a pain in his arm. It burned. Flesh seared from his bones. He woke with a yowl.

A man with a blowtorch and welding mask bent over his arm. The sparks of the torch sprayed in every direction, burning his flesh, and singing the hair on his arm. He tried to yank his arm away, but he was strapped down. A metal rod prevented him from biting his tongue.

Rodriguez looked in horror at his arm. Attached midway onto his forearm was a machete. The man in the welding mask was attaching a weapon to where a hand should have been. Rodriguez’s memory came slowly back to him. They were on patrol. They were in a mall. The scullions broke inside. Half the crew died. The other half scattered. There were sewer entrances in the basement. Iago, Rodriguez, and a third person, a first officer, sailor, he couldn’t be sure.

They hopped into the basement. The sailor was overrun. They barely made it into a room that would be their metal tomb. Scullions clawed at the doorways. He couldn’t hold it any longer. The rabble swarmed through the entrance. Then… he couldn’t remember… he was bitten. Iago cut off his right hand at the mid-forearm.

Iago’s face appeared over Rodriguez, upside down from his point of view. A wide grin contrasted with Rodriguez’s worried frown as his strapped-down body squirmed in pain and fear. Iago leaned closer. “You did it, my friend! You are the man of the hour.”

Sweat poured from Rodriguez’s face. His eyes contorted in agony and terror.

“If you hadn’t so kindly gotten yourself bitten, we may have never met the cronies of one Brigadier General Brabantio of the United States Air Force, stationed in… care to guess?”

Rodriguez wanted it to stop. Muffled screams were all that would come out.

“That’s right! Kirtland Air Force Base in Albuquerque, New Mexico! Apparently, there is still some semblance of civilized society left. And what’s even better is that, after some persuasion, and some missing body parts, I learned about their secret mission.”

Tears streamed downed Rodriguez’s face. He wanted the man to stop. He didn’t need a sword arm! If only Iago knew what he was thinking…

“Oh, don’t cry. Don’t cry. It’s really good news. They are here to find the Brigadier’s daughter, who just happened to be doing her tour as Miss California when the apocalypse struck.”

Rodriguez wanted to die.

“What’s that? Oh yes, quite right. Des happens to be Miss California! Desdemona doesn’t just turn the heads of men like you. She’s a sort of Helen of Troy. She’s the kind of daughter one Brigadier would mobilize armies to get back. People fight wars for her.

“We just have to get to Albuquerque first. Tell the Brigadier about Othello’s true character. Hell, you may even win her heart in the process. I heard she digs guys with big swords. Looks like you got a big one too. Though I suggest you use your left hand when you make love to her.”

Rodriguez almost choked on his own tears. Iago’s head lowered out of view, and when he poked back into Rodriguez’s field of vision, the merciless man’s grin was gone. “By the way,” Iago added. “I say this as a friend. Don’t ever use a sexual pun on a woman’s name again. You’ll never sleep with her that way.”

The nameless welder continued to meld metal and flesh. The blade was glowing orange. Rodriguez would never forget his blade again.

Continue reading: Othello and Zombies

Othello and Zombies



A horror-comedy of Shakespearian proportions

I have another book that could be considered for a publishing deal with Amazon. This one is an adventure of Shakespearian proportions, and it has zombies. I need your help to even be considered. You can help by clicking the link below then clicking nominate. Not only will you get a free copy of the novel if you nominate and I’m accepted, but you’ll also help an indie author launch his career. I’m also going to sweeten the deal. If you nominate and comment below with your email address, (or fill out the contact form above), I’ll send you a free ebook copy of my Dystopian thriller Atmospheric Pressure.


You can read the first few chapters and nominate here:


iComedy for an iStupid Sense of Humor

We all fail sometimes. The key to failure is brushing ourselves off and accepting our failure with dignity and the profound sense of pride that you at least tried. Then you can buy a cabin in the woods and start making bombs. Because it’s the thought that counts. The thought that with a little plutonium, “They will pay. Oh yes, they will pay.” Because we know that there are other fish in the sea, which is where people will have to live when you are done with….




I’ve written sketch comedy and even a feature length comedy film. I’d figure that I’d know what is funny. And I really thought I found the funny in an company iPad training. We were being instructed in the use of iMovie for the iPad. I’ve created some music videos for my band in iMovie:

The class instructed us teachers to create a presentation for the students using iMovie so if we wanted the students do a similar assignment, we would know what to do. This assignment was an opportunity for the comedy. I’ve always tried to insert humor into my education. If I didn’t, I would get bored.

I remember one of my computer programming teachers in high school told me I can’t name a variable Bob. He said other programmers wouldn’t know that Bob is the Fibonacci sequence. Aside from the fact that it was a silly high school project that no other programmers would look at, I began writing stories in my programs. Bob’s cloning machine exploded and he began to replicate himself in the form of the Fibonacci sequence!

Here in my adult life, I’m at it again. How can I take what would be a boring assignment and make it funny? My comical gears began to turn and I thought of a simple equation – one that I thought was the funniest thing on the planet.

Hamlet + Chuck Norris = Manly Hamlet (Hamlet in Klingon).

So when we were given time to make our video, I whipped up a doofy little video for the project that I thought was hilarious.

While people did laugh during my presentation of the video, they didn’t laugh at the joke I thought was gold! Hamlet in Klingon is funny. Chuck Norris is also funny. Chuck playing Hamlet in Klingon –  a nuclear explosion of funny. That’s not to say the video wasn’t funny. The training group laughed during the video but they didn’t really laugh at the joke that I really wanted them to laugh at.

Which is a really important lesson for any humor writer. All you can do is write what you think is funny and hope that others share your sense of humor. And if they don’t share your sense of humor, set yourself on fire. Then who’s laughing?

Poop Thousand Twelve

The greatest invention of our time is now available: The Poop to Electricity Machine. That’s right! This is not an April Fool’s prank. This is a real — if stinky — deal! I can’t wait for the next step when we can just shit directly into our gas tank. Imagine stop free road trips as refueling is a simple matter of pooping in the gas tank.

The next time you are on a road trip don’t be afraid to stop at Taco Bell. Fill up on those 5,000 layer burritos. They will be useful later on when the tank is close to empty. We really haven’t had an invention this wonderful since the port-a-potty. Imagine large events without port-a-potties.

Shakespearean Actor: We have a great show for you tonight! How are the groundlings doing?

Groundling: Everybody is shitting on us.

I really think the next step is to create a urine to windshield wiper fluid converter. It sure beats trying to do it yourself while going 75 miles an hour. At the very least, it will stop the truckers from honking at me.

Hamlet The Vampire Slayer Retrospective

A Review of a Review

A while back, Obscurus Lupa (Allison) and Oancitizen (Kyle) did a review of Hamlet The Vampire Slayer. Allison and Kyle made a wonderful episode. On a side note, I feel weird calling them by the names of the characters they play on their web series. To me, that’s like calling Christian Bale — Batman:

I’m sitting at a bar. Christian Bale walks in.

Me: Hey everyone! It’s Batman! Batman’s here! Look Batman!

Christian Bale: Oy! I am Christian Bale and I speak with a fucking cockney accent.

Ian Mckellen walks in.

Me: It’s Magneto! Batman! Arrest Magneto! He’s a bad man.

Ian Mckellen: I’m not Magneto. I’m Gandalf.

Me: Holy shit! Gandalf and Batman! Holy shit! They are going to be the best team up ever. Holt shit!

Maury Sterling from Beverly Hills Chihuahua tries to walk in.

Ian Mckellen: You shall not pass!

I really liked their review. I laughed a lot. They were a great pair. The chemistry between them exuded a raw output of love and hate. Their dynamic as a comedy team up is exactly the same reaction we get to the movie. I remember talking to a Professor of Shakespeare at a film festival who absolutely loved the movie whereas a Shakespeare dedicated website hated the film. Kyle and Allison’s art truly imitates life. Their reactions to this film are exactly what I expect.

The funniest part for me was Allison eating chips and calling out to Buffy. I had to pause the review because I was laughing too hard. Jason and I were roommates when we watched Buffy. Picture a bunch of dudes, eating giant bags of Hot Tamales and Mike N’ Ikes watching Buffy with tears in our eyes. I thought Kyle and Allison’s dynamics made the review. The utter contempt of Kyle contrasted with the poop joke loving Allison was brilliant. There was a nice balance between Kyle’s stark realism and Allison’s silliness. I also have to say I love the final retort “Country Matters”.  On a sider note, you know that weird feeling you get when someone stares directly at the camera lens? The feeling like they are looking directly at you?  Since I co-wrote Hamlet The Vampire Slayer, I felt like they really were talking to me. It’s a weird feeling made even weirder because they are talking about my movie!

I loved the review. It was funny, completely fair, and done with love for their craft. If you haven’t watched their shows, I recommend them.  And I am still laughing about the potato chips and Buffy. If there is a best joke of 2012 competition, they have my vote.


After the review came out, people had questions about the movie. I will try to address some of them here. In spirit of the comedy team up, I’ll let you, the reader, decide which is the best answer to the question:

Q: What’s the symbolism behind the Soviet flag during the hot tub scene?

A: Claudio is a character of split personalities. His vampire half wants to normalize the population much like the communist ideology of equality via oppression. His Shakespearean half uses Stalinesque tactics to gets what he wants regardless of the consequences to his people.


A: Vampires like the color red!

Q:  Why do Rosenchad and Guildenbrad make all the gay jokes?

A: They are characters trapped between worlds. Their homophobia prevents them from acting on the secret desire for each other. They come from a very conservative background where authority figures dictate their inner lives. Their inability to tell Claudio that they won’t betray their friend only reinforces their conflict with their true desire. If they were “out of the closet” and didn’t let bigotry control their lives, they would stand up for Hamlet as well as themselves and not be a pawn of Claudio’s wishes.


A: Oral sex turning people into vampires is funny!

Q: Why a goat?

A: Hamlet’s excitement over a goat is the manifestation of Pan. He lusts for his mother and that lust is betrayed by Claudio. If he could unlock his inner Pan, he would no longer be bound. Freedom via goat.


A: Goats just happen to be on the set that day so we filmed them.

Q: Did you just take the idea from the Whitest Kids You Know Abe Lincoln sketch?

A: Since the play version of this movie came out in 2006, we had to time travel to the future to take the idea from WKUK. Back in December of 2005, Jason and I thought of the idea while I was dropping him off at the airport for the holidays. We did a show called “Dracula Goes to College” that was fairly successful. We wanted to do a show in the same vein so we thought of “Hamlet Goes to High School”. When he came back, we started watching Buffy. Because it’s really hard for us to make the Hamlet/Buffy connection in our heads, we built a time machine. We first went back to 1955 and screwed up Marty’s birth. Then we had to save Earth from the Daleks. Finally, we ran into a bunch of guys in a hot tub (that’s how we got the idea for the hot tub scene). Then we watched the WKUK video on youtube in 2007. Then we traveled back to 2006 to write the show for its 2006 theatrical premiere.  Why we used time travel to write a silly vampire movie and not advance human knowledge, I’ll never be sure. Either way our time machine got stuck only going to the future and Ethan is trapped living underground with a race of violent beings.


A:  I like traffic lights. But not when they’re red.

Q: Where are all the gore and blood effects?

A: In the deleted scenes on the DVD, there is a cut scene where Claudio murders the cast of A Mid-Summer Night’s Dream as well as Romeo and Juliet.  We took the scenes out for time. There is only a finite amount of time a person can sit watching a silly comedy.  In hindsight, we were glad we didn’t have any gore or boobs. A company offered to distribute the movie if we added that stuff, but we told them no. Hamlet The Vampire Slayer is the silly comedy it’s intended to be. Trying to be like any other movie would take away from that aspect. It’s better make a movie that people either absolutely love or absolutely hate than something mediocre and forgettable.


A: We forgot to film them!

Q: What’s with the Mammy doll?

A: Gertrude’s disregard for kingdom as she fills her needs before the needs of her people…

A: I found a twinkie!

A: Excuse me, I’m talking here.

A: I think it’s still good. It’s only a little squished from being in between the couch cushions.

A: I don’t know why I even try…

Q: Why did you take liberties with Hamlet, one of the greatest plays of all time?

A:  Obliviously, with a title called Hamlet The Vampire Slayer we were going for winning the Oscar. With movies like the Twilight series sweeping the Oscars, we had to do something to raise the stakes. Getting some of that bard action will definitely make our movie a serious contender against the Twilight series. I can sleep better at night knowing I am faithful to Shakespeare’s true intentions of helping me win an Oscar.


A: We made a silly comedy and try not to over think it too much. After all comedy is a social sanction for inflexible behavior.  Wait no, I’m the dumb answer. I like kitties!

Public Reactions

Hamlet The Vampire Slayer really came from love of comedy. We were a sketch comedy theatre troop who wanted to preserve one of our favorite shows on film. When I was writing with the Eat, Drink and Be Larry (the sketch team), we always served the comedy first. For me, it was growing up watching Monty Python and movies like Airplane! I finally had an artistic venue to create that type of humor myself. But I always remember a friend of mine who hated the Holy Grail. He hated a movie that made me laugh hundreds of times over. I never understood how someone could hate Holy Grail especially a movie that truly was my Holy Grail.

Hamlet The Vampire Slayer is by no means comparable to Holy Grail. Let’s be honest, Hamlet does have jokes that fall flat while Holy Grail is really a work of pure genius. We were really inexperienced filmmakers and plagued with issues like sound (such as the poor quality in the basketball scene). But Hamlet TVS does at least inspire the same love/hate reaction. Reading the comment sections of the Obscurus Lupa Presents review really displays the love/hate. I am happy people react with such gusto to a film Graham Chapman dressed as a general would attempt to cancel for being too silly.

Here are some of my favorite love/hate comments about Hamlet The Vampire Slayer (names have been omitted to protect the innocent):

“There is nothing awesome about this movie.”

“It’s clearly supposed to be retarded in that Bill and Ted kind of way, in fact I’m pretty sure it copies Bill and Ted in some places.  But for that to work, the actual writer can’t be retarded.”

“I’ll stick with REAL Hamlet movies like “The Last Action Hero”, Thank you very much.”

“Uh… this exists?”

“Hamlet the Vampire Slayer??? AWESOME!!”

“this movie offends and irritates me.”

“I just can’t be mad at it, or even annoyed. It looks like it was made with love. And they might have made a very dumb movie, but at least they decided to do so and went all out, which is commendable, I suppose.”


“That movie looks…… AWESOME! All of the things in the movie looks so stupid and retarded that it has reached the level of pure art.”

“I call on the blessed trinity of Olivier, Jacobi and Branagh to smite this film with holy fire – preferably while speaking in iambic pentameter!”

“I think the place where I just absolutely lost my ability to criticize it was when Hamlets Dad-Ghost appeared, and he went “Imagine you are the monkey” in that completely matter of fact, serious tone.”