The Really Hot Adventures of Guy

  With a parting buzz, the fly flew off. That’s what they do, after all. Sometimes I wonder who named them ‘flies.’ And why didn’t the same person call a centipede a ‘walk’? Worm’s should have been called ‘squirm,’ by the same logic.

  A stupid joke went through my mind, “What do you call a microwave wok?”

  “A run,” another part of my brain answered.

  Jokes at a time like this. I’m starting to lose it. I no it. No, I know it.

  My roommates were still making plans.

  “Okay, every Quest has to have a warrior, and a sorcerer…”

  “Yeah, and a dwarf and an elf.”

  “Yeah, you have to have those,” Knob said, bobbing his head in agreement.

  “What are you guys talking about?”

  Knob looked at me pityingly, “Every Quest has to have the right people. You need to have a warrior, an elf, a wizard…”

  “…and a dwarf and a magic sword…” Thurman added.

  “…and an evil presence..” Knob continued.

  “…and the possibility of sequels…”

  “…and movie rights…”

  “…special effects…”

  “Shut up,” I screamed, holding my head. A painful thudding had begun, keeping time with my heart.

  THWUMP!!!

  A sound wave rattled the cabinets, and the ground shook underneath us.

  “What the…!” Thurman yelled.

  “Whoa!!!” Knob yelled.

  “Aaaahhhh!” I yelled.

  “……………” Seth yelled.

  Okay, Seth didn’t really add anything to the dialogue. But, I’m sure he would have if he hadn’t been a zombie. The entire house had been shaken like a rattle in the hands of a hyperactive baby.

  We rushed to the front door, and threw it open.

  It was winter….

  …. in Alaska.

  Not here, though. Here it was summer, and a blast of heat blasted by us, blasting us with its passing blast. Beyond it, the sky was blue, the grass was green, and traffic was uncongested. Everything looked peaceful. White clouds floated gracefully in the sky. Birds twittered and pooped on cars.

  There was no sign of what had caused the great sound that we had heard.

  Except, where Knob’s Caravan was, or rather, wasn’t.

  There was a shadow where the van had stood in the driveway, but the van was gone. Or, as we saw as we carefully approached the spot where the van should be, there was something where the van had been, five minutes before. It was in the shape of the van. Kind of . On the driveway, where there had once been a five and a half-foot high pride of Lee Iaccoca Chrysler family of family automobiles, was a one-inch high version of the same vehicle.

  Knob’s van had been squashed completely flat.

  “Wha….???”

  “Hunh….????”

  “Uh…????”

  We looked at each other, stunned.

  I looked around. No one was around who could explain what had happened to the two thousand-pound vehicle.

  Knob squatted down, and sort of patted the van, as if to reassure himself that it wasn’t an illusion. Then he looked up at us. “They’re on to us.”

  His words woke me out of my shock, “What are you talking about?”

  “The telemarketers. Somehow they learned that we know about them.”

  The look on Thurman’s face shifted from shock to fear.

  “Let’s go, there’s no time to lose,” Knob wheeled, and sprinted back into the house.

  Thurman and I looked at each other. Then we looked at what used to be a mini-van. Then we followed Knob back into the house.

  Inside, Knob was quickly stuffing his knapsack. We got there just as he was cramming a stack of moist towelettes into the sack.

  “What are those for?” I asked.

  “You gotta have towelettes,” he said.

  “What? To keep your hands clean?”

  Knob sighed. Sometimes he had trouble explaining things to lesser intellects, like myself. Or me. Or I. Or, whatever it is that signifies me…or I ….or myself.

  “Didn’t you read the Hitchhiker?” he asked, a pained look of put-upon patience plastered to his puss.

  “Huh?”

  “Doug Adams.”

  “Huh?”

  “I know what he’s talking about,” Thurman said excitedly, “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.”

  Knob beamed at him, the bright pupil. Then he turned severe eyes back on me, the dunce, “Yeah, the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. The bible for world travelers.”

  “That’s fiction,” I fired at him.

  He ignored that. “Anybody knows if you’re going to travel, you have to bring a towel.”

  “Yeah,” Thurman agreed, “It’s got nutrients, and you can wrap it around your head to keep from burning yourself.” He was growing a bald spot, and was very concerned about burning his head.

  “Those are towelettes, you goof,” I said.

  “Right, they are the only things available that have both the cleaning ability and nutritional requirements.”

  “Nutritional requirements..?”

  “Yeah, they’re like concentrated water, hermetically sealed. If you’re out in a desert….”

  “We’re in Chicago!”

  He ignored that, too, “… and you lose your canteen, you can suck on one of these towelettes.”

  “We’re not bringing canteens!”

  “And these,” he held one out to me, “are the best, because they’re lemon-flavored.”

  “There are drinking fountains all over the city!”

  “Who’s the head of our Quest?” Thurman changed the topic.

  “I am,” Knob announced.

  “You???!!!” I said, an amazed look on my face.

  I didn’t know for a fact that I had an amazed look on my face, since I couldn’t see it. But I’m pretty sure there was, because I was amazed.

  “You chew your own toenails! How can you be a leader?”

  “Yeah, me,” he said, narrowing his eyes, “Why, you want the job?”

  “He can’t be,” said Thurman, “he’s the Unbeliever, like Thomas Covenant.”

  “But the Unbeliever was the leader, in a way,” Knob mused.

  “Hmm…maybe,” Thurman agreed thoughtfully.

  “Look, we have to get out of here, before whatever crunched the Hog comes back for us,” Knob said, taking his role of maybe-leader by the horns. Even though his horn, fan belt, and everything else, was squashed to a half-inch little pile.

  “How do we get there?”

  “Where?”

  “To pick up our warrior, of course,” Thurman said.

  “Warrior?” I said.

  “Yeah, told you I know where we can get one,” Knob reassured me. “Let’s get Seth and go.”

  “We’re not bringing Seth.”

  He gave me a serious look, “We’re bringing Seth. We don’t have a choice.” Then he gestured to the van that looked like it could fit in one of Thurman’s delivery boxes, “And we can’t leave him here. It’s not safe.”

  I couldn’t argue with that logic, because, after all, something strange was going on.

  “Besides, we need something to put his brain in when we get it back.”

  “We’re also bringing Weezel,” Thurman declared, shooting eye darts at us.

  “No way!” Knob groaned.

  “I said, we’re bringing him,” Thurman’s posture was ramrod straight.

  “Oh, shit, don’t worry about him,” I said. “It’s not like he takes up much room.”

  Weezel is Thurman’s dog, vintage maybe twenty years ago, maybe fifty. A ghost dog, if you can believe it. Thurman discovered him one night when we were messing around with an Ouiji Board. He’d asked the board whether his childhood dog was in dog heaven, and the board surprised him by revealing that another dog was presently in the room with them, and wanted Thurman for a master.
Another of our normal freaky nights.

  Ever since, Thurman swore he could sense the dog, which somehow shifted breeds, manifesting itself as a dachshund, sometimes a collie, once in awhile Irish wolfhound. He’d take it for walks, and ignore when we suggested he could maybe take his imaginary dog on imaginary walks instead, and just hang with us. Once in awhile, when the jokes got too barbed, he’d snap back, “He’s not imaginary, he’s invisible!”

  He’d also get up in the middle of a television show, to let Weezel out. Why Weezel didn’t simply go through the door like any other ghost, Thurman wouldn’t say.

  WHOMPH!

  Another explosion shook the room.

  “It’s back,” Knob shouted.

  “We have to get out of here!” Thurman screamed.

  WHOMPH! SMACK! CRASH!

  “Oh, man, I think that was my car,” Thurman moaned.

  We jumped up, and Thurman and Knob grabbed their knapsacks. I snatched Seth by the wrist, and we bolted away from the sound. Problem was, there was nothing but a window on that side of the house. We scrambled through the window, Seth allowing himself to be led.

  We ran around the side of the house, and Thurman glanced around the corner. He pulled his head back, “It got my car, too,” he said, his face pasty.

  “Did you see what did it?” Knob breathed breathlessly.

  “No, whatever it was, I didn’t see anything. But my car is flat as a pizza,” said the pizza delivery boy, who would be in the position to know if something was as flat as a pizza.

  “Let’s run for it,” Knob said.

  “Where?” I asked him.

  “To get our warrior,” he said, with a look that told me what he thought of my stupid questions.

  “How do we get there?” I said.

  “Wow, he really is the Unbeliever,” Thurman said, looking at me with wondering eyes.

  “We run!” Knob said, “She’s only a few doors down.”

  “She?”

  “A lady warrior?” An excited look flitted across Thurman’s face. Then it flitted the other way before settling in to stay for awhile, as he most likely considered the idea of half-naked, big-breasted Amazonian warriors. “All right, let’s go!”

  Knob ran towards the garage, keeping low to the ground. Thurman ran crouched after. I followed, dragging my little brother, who ran upright like Frankenstein in pursuit of a sewing kit.

  We flattened against the garage, and sneaked a peek towards our demolished vehicles.

  “Let’s go,” Knob ran around the garage, and sprinted up the hill towards the graveyard.

  “Is this a smart idea?” Thurman managed, looking at the tombstones with some trepidation.

  “Yeah, I don’t think these have anything to do with the telemarketers,” Knob assured him, leading a winding path around the graves.

  There was another thumping sound behind us.

  “Faster!” I yelled.

  “C’mon, Weezel,” Thurman managed, urging his ghost dog, who no doubt was stopping to check out some ghost pee on one of the gravestones.

  We sprinted through the older part of the graveyard, heading for a house about fifty yards away. There was another thumping sound behind us, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood and shattering CD’s.

  “It got the house,” Thurman moaned.

  “Faster!” I yelled, again.

  “C’mon!” Knob urged us. He was the fastest of us, and he pulled ahead, knees flying.

  I risked a glance behind us. The house was gone. Just an empty space, sitting between our neighbors’ houses, the garage still standing with a fateful look, as if somehow knowing that its turn was next.

  I couldn’t see what was causing all the devastation. It was a beautiful, sunny day, with big fluffy, non-threatening cumulous clouds floating in a sea of blue sky.

  “Maybe it’s invisible,” Thurman said shakily, puffing from the run.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Knob yelled, “Quick, get in.”

  He was at the back door of the house, gesturing frantically at us.

  We shot inside, finding ourselves in the kitchen. Thurman leaned on a counter, panting heavily. Dressed all in black, with heavy jeans, he’d been pounded mercilessly by the sun’s rays all the way across the field.

  The rest of us were wearing garb more suited for a mid-nineties day.

  “Where are we?” I gasped.

  “The Warrior, Man,” Knob said heavily.

  “We…shouldn’t ….just…..have ….busted …..in,” Thurman said, still puffing.

  “It was an emergency, I don’t think she’d mind.”

  “What are you doing here?” a voice asked.

  We all jumped, except for Seth. Seth was standing placidly, not perspiring or even breathing hard.

  In front of us was a brown-headed urchin.

  “Who are you?”

  We wheeled about to see another little kid, just like the first.

  “Huh?” Thurman grunted.

  “Twins,” Knob said, giving them a welcoming smile.

  “Where’s your Mommy?” he asked, folding down to look one of them in the eyes.

  “I’ll get her.” The kid bolted down the hallway.

  I looked at the other one. It was six or seven years old, sex indeterminate. Don’t misunderstand, I’m sure there was a sex. And I’m sure it was not androgynous, because it wouldn’t matter if it was a little boy or a little girl. Either way, he/she was as cute as hell. Big, lively brown eyes, nut brown skin, longish brown hair sun-streaked from day-long expeditions in the outdoors.

  “What’s your name?” I asked, leaning to eye level.

  “Shawn”

  There you go, a girl’s name.

  “You’re a pretty little girl,” I exclaimed.

  “Uh, dude,…” Knob began.

  “I’m not a girl, I’m a boy,” the child proclaimed hotly.

  “S – E – A – N,” Knob observed, too late.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said, my face turning hot.

  I was rescued as the other kid came running in, “She’ll be here in a minute.”

  “Thanks, Chris,” Knob said.

  “Hi, Chris,” I offered, trying to save face, at least once. “How are you, little man?”

  “Uh, dude, …” Knob began, once again too late to save me.

  “I’m not a boy,” that child yelled at me.

  “K – R – I – S,” Knob added helpfully.

  I shut up, my face burning.

  “Hi, Knob,” a new voice said, entering the room. “What’s up?”

  I slid my gaze sideways, trying to avoid another face-coloring event, to behold the Warrior.

  And, I did that.

  Yes, I did.

  I beheld the Warrior.

  (I hope you enjoyed this sneak preview of The Adventures of Guy which is available everywhere in print and ebook form)

  Norm’s books

  https://www.normcowie.com

  Bonk & Hedz ... a caveman ... and woman ... story

  Bonk and his mate Hedz are just an ordinary caveman and cavewoman struggling with the everyday existence that comes when one's place in the food chain isn't all that clear. Then a little caveman shows up and convinces them a neighboring tribe is amassing weapons of mass destruction in preparation for an assault on their village, and everything changes...with hilarious results.

  The Adventures of Guy

  Somebody stole Seth's brain, not that he was using it anyway. To recover it, his brother Guy and college roommates Knob and Thurman must take on sinister forces using only their wits, knowledge of beer and an Amazon Warrior, whose breasts, like the Big Gulp, are too big for the cup holder. "Humorous fantasy at its best..." Armchair Interviews. Named a "Top Ten Novel of the Year" Pop Syndicate

  The Next Adventures of Guy

  Every "Quest" has to have a sorcerer, an elf, a warrior, special effects...and most of all, a sequel. So in the hilarious sequel to The Adven
tures of Guy, Guy and his college buddies, Knob and Thurman, take on a new quest...to save Earth from alien invasion. Winner of Preditors and Editors Readers Choice award for Best Sci-fi fantasy.

  Fang Face

  Erin has been bitten twice by a vampire, and is turning into an Undead with a taste for blood smoothies. Her friends and family decide they like her more as normal teen, so they gear up to protect her from the third bite that will turn her into a coffin sleeper forever. "I loved this book, fangs and all," New York Times best-selling author James Rollins "Fantastically funny," BookLoons "Don't miss this gem," Shane Gericke, national best-selling author. “...genuinely funny..." Taliesin - The Vampire's Lair. Five-starred by Amazon top reviewer Harriet Klausner.

  WereWoof

  Two teens-turned-weredogs use their newfound powers of Kibbles and Bits to battle turncoat werewolves and bloodsucking vampires and save their friend from the pointy toothed villains. A stand-alone sequel to Fang Face. "...clever one-liners..." Constance Hullander, author of Snowstorm. "Like a fun vacation..." Ophelia Julien, author of Saving Jake

  The Guy'd Book ... why we leave the seat ... and other stuff

  A tongue in cheek training manual for women so they can understand what makes guys guys. Why we leave the toilet seat up, why we will do anything on a dare ... essentially, what makes us tick. Fun stuff previously published in the Chicago Tribune, Cynic Magazine and other places. Brought to you in beautiful black and white by award-winning author Norm Cowie. "A hilarious piece of work..." Scott Doornbosch, author of Basic Black

  Some of Norm’s reviews:

  on Fang Face and its sequel WereWoof

  "I loved this book, fangs and all." ~ Best selling author James Rollins

  “… fantastically funny.” ~ BookLoons

  "This book sucks ... in a most delightful way. Don't miss this gem.." ~ Shane Gericke, national bestselling author

  "... an amusing teen vampire tale..." ~ Five-starred review ~ Harriet Klausner, Amazon's #1 book reviewer

  "...genuinely funny...” ~ Taliesin - The Vampire's Lair

  on The Adventures of Guy and its sequel The Next Adventures of Guy

  “… humorous fantasy at its best…” ~ Armchair Interviews (Amazon Top reviewer)

  “…LOL funny” ~ Beverly at Publisher's Weekly

  “No topic is safe from Cowie’s incredible wit and entertaining turn-of-phrase.” ~ Pop Syndicate (named one of Pop Syndicate's Top Ten Books of 2007)