Offering Extraordinary Books by Talented Authors TM
Mandibles
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The demented mind behind Graverobbers Wanted (No Experience Necessary) and Single White Psychopath Seeks Same is back with another outrageous blend of the humorous and the horrific.
No Mercy. No Escape. No Picnic.
Extremely large and vicious red fire ants (Solenopsis invicta) are on the loose in Tampa, Florida, and those who don't immediately become ant chow must figure out how to stop this attack before the entire city becomes overrun by the creatures.
Whether you love ants, hate ants, or have no real opinion of them as long as they're not currently stinging you, you'll love this over-the-top, action-packed, tongue-in-cheek insects-on-the-rampage thriller!
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About the Author
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Jeff Strand lives in Florida with his wife, his mentally questionable cat, and his hideous wardrobe. He's been writing ever since he was old enough to throw screaming fits in crowded supermarkets and is glad to have finally gotten some use out of that creative writing degree his dad paid for. His comedic material has appeared in several publications, including a whopping 1/365th of the anthology HORRORS! 365 SCARY STORIES. The story involved improper use of an electric carving knife, but it was meant to be funny. Really.
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Reviews
Jeff Strand is a funny, deeply disturbed individual. —Jack Ketchum, author of Off Season and The Girl Next Door
Slathered in great big letters above the title are the words, "Horror! Thrills! Plus-size Ants." How could I refuse to read any book with that kind of recommendation? I picked this up, and even before I cracked the spine, I had the same feeling I had when I was a kid, slapping down my fifty cents, picking up my bag of popcorn and Coke, and waiting with anticipation for the projector to fire up and show me one of the classic Bs: "I Bury the Living," or "Dementia-13." Nowhere on the cover does it say "great literature," nor does it say "read this book and take it very seriously." On the contrary, the back cover says, "Warning: Contains graphic ant violence, carnage, mayhem, and unpleasantness. Keep insect spray handy." You know what you're getting into when you look at the cover. The blonde in the tight dress running from the huge ant on the jacket promises a rollercoaster load of fun. Does it deliver? Is it fun? Hell, yes! I couldn't put the damn thing down until I had to. During a very busy week for me, I sat down for a few minutes each evening to spend a few minutes with it. I found myself looking forward to sitting quietly with this horrific Irwin Allenish disaster story for a few minutes, and on the night I finished it, I was sorry. If you like disaster movies, action, and comedy, you, like me, will find yourself picking up the book when you should be doing something else, and still sitting on the sofa reading it after your bedtime. Like any guilty pleasure, it's pure and simple fun. And it's a page-turner. Do you like a good monster movie? Are you willing to overlook a few problems for the sake of the ride? Then this book is for you. Five bites just for the fun I had reading it! I'll look for more of Strand's books. —Mark Worthen, Guilty Pleasure Reviews
3 1/2 Stars—Mandibles is a grand lot of fun. There are giant ants of varying sizes, action scenes of various plausibility, and weed-whacker jousting. Despite the humor, the tension is real, and it seems always possible that this will be the sort of monster movie that ends with the monsters leaving the town in ruins and an ominous question mark filling the screen...fun to catch the summer reading crowd and enough wit to interest the odd intellectual. —Sarah Meador, Curled Up With a Good Book
Jeff Strand, a man possessed of (or by) a very wicked sense of humor, infuses the entire tale with so much wit, so much energy and sarcasm, that one can’t help but embrace and revel in the B-movie madness of the whole affair. The light, joking manner in which Mandibles is told serves another purpose, aside from making us smile: it causes us to drop our guard, allowing the very sudden and very messy horrors that populate this book to come as a genuine surprise. And let’s not forget about the action. Near the climax of this tight little book, there are several action sequences that are nothing short of cinematic, wonderfully choreographed and skillfully executed. It’s not hard to imagine Mandibles as a summer flick. This book, in the right hands, could be a monster movie classic the likes of Gremlins and Tremors. —Joseph Sevin
Mandibles takes a basic horror concept (that of the giant, man-eating bug) and embraces all the moans and groans that one associates with the subgenre. In the written realm, pulpy is perhaps the best way to describe it. Strand knows the concept is ridiculous, and thus he allows ridiculous things to happen, with characters making wisecracks whilst battling enormous insects. Strand believes in development, and in a major way. His characters become multidimensional, and at such speed that sometimes it seemed like I knew the character and witnessed their death in less than two pages. Strand paces [humor] well throughout, keeping it nice and steady. Overall, this is a well-written, enjoyable novel. If you like your horror with lots of pulp, or your humor with bits of horror, then Jeff Strand's Mandibles is well worth a read. --Dennis Kriesel, Kansas City infoZine
"Mandibles is a hell of a lot of fun. The author has concocted a page turning blend of humor, action and horror. Strand keeps the various elements in balance and never lets things get too serious or, conversely, too silly. While certainly derivative of the grand tradition of nature’s creatures getting real mean and real big, Mandibles comes off as such a likable story that it’s hard to be too critical. You don't have to be a fan of Gi-Ants to enjoy Mandibles, but after reading it, you’ll want to join the colony." —Rev. Spenser Hoyt, CultCuts
"No writer working today comes close to Jeff Strand's perfect mixture of comedy and terror. If you don't enjoy Mandibles, you obviously take your horror way too seriously." —Cemetery Dance
"Jeff Strand is renowned for writing some extremely warped and twisted novels and Mandibles is no exception." —Eternal Night
"A hugely enjoyable read and one that I would wholeheartedly recommend." —Terror Australis
"Author Jeff Strand has a sharp wit and knows how to pace a story. His wicked humor had me chuckling out loud several times as the book’s characters think of creative ways to outwit the giant ants. Not that it’s all joking around here; there’s plenty of unsettling violence, blood, and bug guts to leave you cringing and creeping out." —Page Horrific
"[A] funny, loopy, and extremely readable giant ant horror extravaganza. Grab yourself a giant bag of Cheetos and settle down for some plus-size laughs. (But be sure to clean up any crumbs. Ants, you know...)" —Creature Feature Tomb of Horror
"An awesome book...Strand is one sick cookie." —Huntress Reviews
"If you're looking for high art and deep insight into the human condition, this is not the book for you. Go read Shakespeare or Tolstoy or Hemingway. But if you're in the mood for a light, entertaining read filled with giant insects and plenty of carnage, then pick up a copy of Jeff Strand's Mandibles." —Chizine
"A very enjoyable, if not a little skin-scratching, read." —The Film Asylum
"You'll want to take a deep breath before opening these pages, because they'll swallow you faster than a sixteen legged spider. It's fast, fun, and accessible. Horror fans and science fiction fans will love it." —Steve Vernon, author of A Fine Sacrifice.
"Rather like a B-pic horror movie. Don't take it too seriously or you'll miss out on the fun." —Word Weaving
"Mandibles is a great deal of fun! Author Jeff Strand has created a cast of characters who are each individual, interesting, and gripping in their own ways. If you're looking for something out of the ordinary and need a good laugh this is the book for you. —eBook Reviews Weekly
Strand's Biting, uh, Batting A Thousand!
A Review by Kenyon Charboneaux
Last year I was sent Jeff Strand's Graverobbers Wanted (No Experience Necessary) for review. In that review I said Mr. Strand had what it takes to be BIG. I said he belonged with a paper and print publisher and, someday, on the NY Times Bestseller List. Well, I'm glad to see that I was right again. Strand's new book, Mandibles, is just as good, in fact, better, than Graverobbers and it's brought to us by what they're calling a "traditional" publisher in these days of subsidies and PODs and Vanities, Mundania Press. He's not on the NY Times list yet, but then you've practically got to be Stephen King to get on with a horror novel and Mandibles was chosen a finalist for the Best Horror in the 2002 Dream Realm Awards. The guy has got it going on and in Mandibles, it is really going on.
Somehow (it's called talent, by the way) he manages to keep you tottering on the line between hysterical laughter and hysterical gasps of horror throughout his newest scare and gross extravaganza. Plus-size ants! One of my favorites. Remember that movie "Them?" All those poor folks had to worry about was the ants—they didn't have a couple of All American Psychos named Hack and Slash to worry about while trying to escape being eaten by ants.
Plus-size fire ants! I love the way they keep sizing upward, progressively and exponentially, bigger and bigger and bigger, oh my! From your familiar Florida fire ant to rat size, to wolf-size to Shetland pony-size. That may have been predictable in the context of the genre, but see, that's the very thing that sets Mr. Strand apart from all the other writers out there trying to raise goosebumps with ants, spiders (and did I mention the butterflies?)—he's got the talent of a true storyteller. You don't care, even if you happen to notice the predictability (which not a lot of folks will) because by then the story's got you gripped so hard in its coils. Er, excuse, me, its mandibles. After all, it was predictable that Achilles would drag Hector's body around the walls of Troy, but who notices? Who cares? The story's the thing and Mr. Strand hasn't forgotten that, although a lot of his fellow contemporaries have in their rush to write what will look good on the movie screen instead of in the mind of the reader.
Strand's gift for dialog is marvelous. Colloquial, without being overdone, never irritating and hysterically funny. Check out the exchanges between Hack and Slash on whose fault the dead cashier and the hostages they're saddled with is, or their conversations with various hostages and each other at various other times.
Finally, Strand always gives good ending. Graverobbers wasn't just a fluke. He really does give an ending as good as he does a beginning. There's always a little bit of a surprise there, waiting to greet you like the monster you thought you outgrew under the bed who's just waiting for you to let your guard down one night to show you there's no such thing as outgrowing the monsters under the bed, in the closet, or under the sink with the ants ... Mr. Strand deserves my Blue Rose award, which translates to - on a score of 1-10, a definite 10!
Read Except
- PROLOGUE -
Charlie flung his bag of gummi bears into the sink, disgusted and furious. This wasn't the lousy generic brand that Lauren always bought; these were direct-from-Germany, premium quality gummi bears, one of the few pleasures in his miserable life, and now the whole bag was filled with ants.
He smacked his fist against the counter. "Damn it, woman, you left the bag open again! Are you going to learn to follow my rules or do I have to start slapping you around?"
Charlie cringed and looked frantically toward the kitchen doorway. He hadn't meant to say that quite so loud. Please, God, please, please, please don't let her have heard that over the television, he prayed.
"What was that, honey?" Lauren called out from the living room.
"Nothing."
"Are the dishes finished?"
"Yes."
"Did you wipe off the table?"
"No."
"Then the dishes aren't done, are they?"
Charlie wanted to argue that, technically, wiping off the dinner table had nothing to do with washing the dishes, but he was still rattled from his close call. Anyway, he hadn't worked up the courage to argue that little detail with her in eight years of marriage. Maybe tomorrow.
He peered into the sink. Several of the tiny red ants had crawled out of the bag and were making their way up the side. Perhaps some swimming lessons are in order, he thought as he turned on the hot water full blast. He picked up the sprayer and directed the water at the ants on the side of the sink, knocking them off. He envisioned little Lauren faces on them as they swirled down the drain, screaming in unbearable agony.
He picked up the bag by the bottom corner and shook out its contents, gasping as hundreds, maybe thousands of ants poured out. He could barely even see the colors of the gummi bears. Some of the ants ran up the bag toward his arm, so he quickly dropped it.
Time to perish, Lauren-ants. He flipped on the garbage disposal, grinning wickedly as he sprayed more and more of the ants to their doom. Some others tried to escape up the side of the sink again, but he sprayed around the rim and took care of the rest of them. It wasn't long before all of the Lauren-ants had been washed down the drain, their incessant complaining silenced for all eternity.
Lauren was saying something over the noise. He flipped off the switch. "What was that?"
"I said, quit playing with the garbage disposal."
"I wasn't playing with it. I was using it."
"It doesn't take two minutes to use the garbage disposal."
"There were ants in my gummi bears."
"Then you shouldn't have left the bag open."
Charlie clenched his fists but didn't say anything. He'd seen a bit of orange gummi bear in Lauren's teeth last night, and knew for certain that he would never leave a bag of direct-from-Germany, premium-quality gummi bears exposed to the elements, but arguing the issue would be a waste of time.
Oh well. He was thirty-eight years old, and far too mature to grieve over a simple bag of candy. The ants got into it, the ants had suffered their deserved fate, and that was the end of it. Once her show ended, Lauren might let him switch over to the Sci-Fi Channel and then everything would be okay.
"Did you check for more of them?" Lauren called out.
"More what?" he asked.
"Ants," Lauren replied, her voice clearly indicating that he was a gargantuan idiot.
"No, I got 'em all."
"I mean, did you check the rest of the food? They could have gotten into more things."
"I don't think so. I only saw them in the gummi bears."
"Well why don't you check?"
Charlie decided to check. He opened the pantry door and searched the floor carefully. No sign of any ants amidst the numerous shreds of onionskins that had fallen through the bottom wire shelf. He glanced at the shelves, and everything looked okay.
He wanted to walk out into the living room and ask her if he should open up the canned goods to ensure that they were ant-free, but he decided that it wasn't a good idea. Lauren's sense of humor tended toward the non-existent.
A box of cereal on the top shelf was open. Not surprisingly, it wasn't his Froot Loops or Count Chocula that had been left open, but Lauren's grain cereal with the unpronounceable name. She should be the one in here looking for bugs in the food.
He took down the box and peered inside. Not only had she left the box open, but also she hadn't bothered to roll down the top of the bag. And yes, the cereal was absolutely swarming with tiny red ants.
He closed up the top and headed for the garbage can, but no, Lauren should at least see that it was her cereal that was infested. She always tried to blame everything on him, but she knew darn well that he never touched her crappy twig cereal.
"You left your cereal open," he said, displaying the box as he stepped into the living room. Lauren was lying on the couch, feet propped up on the armrest, bony legs bent at the knee.
"Then maybe you should close it," she suggested, glaring at him with her eyes of Satan.
"Too late. The ants already got it, see?" He opened the lid and waved the box at her.
"No, I don't wanna see. Just throw it away. What's the matter with you?"
"I just thought you might want to see."
"Why would I want to see a bunch of bugs in my cereal? Maybe if you wouldn't forget to close the pantry door this wouldn't happen."
Charlie frowned. Now that was going too far. "The door ends an inch from the floor," he pointed out. "There's no ant in the world that couldn't get in under there."
Lauren sighed. "Why are we having this conversation?"
"I was just saying--"
"I know what you were just saying, but you can't possibly think it's important, can you?"
Charlie resisted the urge to throw the box of cereal at her. "You said that it was my fault for leaving the pantry door open, and I was saying that the ants would have gotten in anyway, that's all."
"Well it's not a big deal either way. Just throw away the box."
"The only reason it's not a big deal is because it's your fault instead of mine."
Lauren swung her legs off the armrest and planted them on the floor. "Honey? Throw the box away, okay?"
Charlie didn't move. Maybe he should throw the box at her. Hit her right in the face. A nice big mouthful of ants might shut her up for a while.
"Charlie? Are you listening?"
The ants might even devour her tongue. Then she'd never be able to gripe at him again unless she learned sign language, and she hated to study.
He could do it. He could throw the box.
It would be all her fault.
"Charlie!"
"I'm sorry," said Charlie, lowering the box.
"That's okay. I just don't see why you have to make a big deal out of everything. Finish up in the kitchen and we'll watch whatever you want."
Charlie nodded and turned away, then cried out as burning pain tore through the back of his hand. He dropped the box of cereal as a swarm of red ants quickly moved across his wrist.
"Help me!" he wailed, desperately trying to brush them off. Lauren immediately jumped off the couch and rushed over to him. The back of his hand was already covered with dozens of small welts, and the agony was incredible.
Lauren grabbed his other arm and dragged him into the kitchen. She pulled him over to the sink and turned on the faucet. "Put your arm under it!"
Whimpering, Charlie held his arm under the water. It was scalding hot, but that couldn't compare to the unbelievable burning pain in his hand. He'd been stung by bees several times and it was no big deal...how could ant stings possibly hurt this bad?
Lauren used the sprayer to wash the rest of the ants off his arm. Once they were all gone, she took the dishtowel from where it hung over the refrigerator door handle and gently blotted his arm dry. His hand and arm were already starting to swell up.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "How bad does it hurt?"
"It's like my hand is on--" he began, and then let out a scream. "They're under my shirt!"
He could feel some ants scurrying across his shoulder. With Lauren's help, he quickly pulled off his shirt and threw it to the floor.
"I don't see them!" said Lauren.
Charlie fell to his knees and began smacking the back of his neck, where the pain was at its worst. "Get them off me!" he shrieked.
"I still can't see them!"
"They're in my hair!"
Charlie began to claw at his scalp, practically sobbing. How could they sting him so many times so quickly? It was like somebody had jabbed red-hot needles along the ants' path.
He was going to die. He'd read about people dying from ant stings in Florida before, and was never able to figure out how something like that could happen, even to the elderly people who were the usual victims. Now he knew.
He was barely aware of his surroundings as Lauren pulled him to his feet and led him to the bathroom. She shoved him into the shower, turned on the water, and hurriedly helped him out of the rest of his clothes. The cold water eased the pain a bit, and he vigorously scrubbed at his hair, trying to rinse out the insects.
"Just stay under the water!" Lauren said. "I'll go get help!"
Charlie nodded and grabbed the shampoo bottle. He squeezed some into his palm and began rubbing it into his hair, hoping that would help get rid of the ants. He wasn't feeling any new stings, and while the pain was still excruciating it was starting to subside just a bit.
Over the spray of the shower he could hear Lauren talking on the phone. Her loud mouth had never been more welcome. She'd take care of him. An ambulance would be here soon, and then he'd be fine. The only reason anybody ever died from ant stings was because they didn't get medical attention in time. Lauren wouldn't let him die.
Then he felt something dig into his left eye.
Total panic took over. His feet slipped out from under him. And the burning misery went away for good as his head struck the tile floor.
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