Sad Puppies Bite Back: A Parody

by Declan Finn

  [David Weber, Lord of the Missile Barrages, comes to the head of the stairs] SHHHH, I'm almost done with the third Honor Harrington today, one Safehold novel, I'm editing Flint's section of the next Crown of Slaves, Ringo finally got back to me on Prince Roger -- AND HE SENT ME FIVE BOOKS AT ONCE! If I'm lucky, I'll be done in a month or two. Tell them to come back then.

  TOM “His Tankness” KNIGHTON

  [SWAT approaches]

  [SWAT leader] Come on, men, the local bosses said this guy has been a pain in the ass forever, now we have an opportunity to shut him up.

  [SWAT Minion #3] But sir, I thought this was a call about a madman with a gun.

  [SWAT leader] Well, anything to hang our hats on .... What the .... ?

  [LOUD RUMBLING NOISES on approach. Ground shakes. Noise like thunder rattles trees and windows. Out of the driveway comes an M1A2 Abrams]

  [SWAT Leader screams] RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY!

  [Abrams stops. The hatch pops open. Tom Knighton peeks out, looks around, shrugs] Oh well, guess I was hearing things. Gotta get to the gas station before the fuel truck leaves. This thing has terrible mileage.

  [Tom closes tank hatch behind him, continues his morning commute]

  ~FIN~

  MATT BOWMAN, THE NOVEL NINJA

  [SWAT comes up to a house made entirely of Lego Bricks. They hit the door with a battering ram. The door disintegrates into lego bricks. The SWAT team tries to charge in, but the bricks act like caltrops, and hurts like a bastard. They swarm through the house until they end up in the bed room. There is The Novel Ninja, Matthew Bowman, clothed in black from head to toe, sitting in a wheelchair. He sits back, fingers steepled, perfectly calm] May I help you gentlemen?

  [SWAT leader looks confused] 911 had a call of a madman waving a gun around, threatening to kill someone.

  [Bowman spreads his hands to indicate the rest of the house] You obviously didn't find anyone else in the house, and I assure you I haven't been waving a gun around. I propose to you that I have been SWATted, a tactic of certain groups that involves calling in fake 911 calls upon their political adversaries, or people they merely don't like. One of the first incidents on record happened with an Erick Ericsson of Red State news, a conservative news service online. Though we really should look back on similar, older tactics that have been utilized since the dawn of...

  [Bowman continues, weaving together a history of Chestertonian thought, Catholic history, Civilization IV, narrative, and, somehow, Lego. One SWAT member starts bleeding from the eyes and ears, one suffers a grand mal seizure. The others fall back, blasting occasional cover fire.]

  [Bowman] ...so you had no grounds for exigent circumstances.

  [Bowman waits a moment to listen for the total silence. He gives a little nod, then wheels himself over to a wall. He opens up a secret panel. Inside, there is a wheelchair that looks like it was created for Professor X, only modified by technicians from Mad Max. It is simply labeled "Convention Wheelchair,"] I'll reserve you for DragonCon.

  [Bowman looks to a yellow suit hanging next to the wheelchair] I'll use you next time. Maybe if I ever go to WorldCon.

  The Puppy Kickers

  Location: Top Secret Safe Zone

  [Meanwhile, in the headquarters of the "Friends of Sweetness and Light," George RR "Angel of Death" Martin is fresh from his ivory tower of stone and settles into a chair carved from the bones of all the characters he's ever murdered]

  [GRRM] Okay, everyone, time to have our monthly meeting on the situation with Sad Puppies. I believe, as always, that a steady, civil, even-handed approach will lead to our inevitable victory over the forces of--

  [N.K. Jemisin, Angel (of color) of the Morning] Larry Correia is ugly!

  [GRR Martin is taken aback] Excuse me?

  [Jemisin] You heard me. The little douchebag is ugly.

  [GRRM] Um, Jemisin, that's not the way--

  [John "Noah Ward" Scalzi leans back in his chair and smooths down his overpriced tweeds, and strokes his hairless cat. His voice is high pitched underneath his Black Night helmet] And Correia started all this just to get himself a f*(king Hugo! So whatever he gets is coming to him.

  [Martin] John, come now, you know that Correia turned down his nomination.

  [Scalzi's cat hisses at Martin] That misses the point entirely.

  [Jemisin] The man is as bad as Vox Day! He's a racist exercising his white privilege!

  [Martin blinked, befuddled, and readjusts his hat] Isn't Larry Portuguese? And Vox is from an Indian tribe, isn't he?

  [Jemisin] That's white enough!

  [Martin] Look, people, really--

  [David "Furball" Gerrold perks up from his corner. He is dressed as a giant tribble, drooling, senile, clearly suffering from dementia] VOOOOXXXX DDDAAAAAAYYYYYY

  [Martin] David, stop that. John--

  [Scalzi scroffs and dismisses it with a particularly floppish and limp-wristed wave of his hand] No, David's right, Vox started all of this, and until the Sad Puppies are going to disavow him, we don't have to play nice. Vox has called for the destruction of la cosa nostra.

  [Martin] They're crushing the mafia?

  [Noah Ward] No, no, no, my good man. La cosa nostra, this thing of ours. The Hugos, man! The Hugos!

  [GRR Martin] Yes, Vox is evil, but I thought Larry started Sad Puppies. Vox started with them, then created an offshoot called Rabid Puppies. Brad Torgersen has been having problems with him ever since.

  [Scalzi] Oh, pish-tosh. That hardly addresses the issue.

  [GRRM gapes, blinks, then turns to NKJ] And you, hold on a second. You're not content with having a personal vendetta and an online feud with Vox Day, but you want to deliberately taunt the Dark Lord of the Fisk!? Have you no sense of self-preservation?

  [Scalzi frowns] I thought he was the International Lord of Hate

  [Jemisin] Anything he says to me will prove that he's a racist!

  [GRR Martin] But he does line-by-line and point-by-point dissections--

  [NKJ] So what?

  [GRRM] -- if he acknowledges you at all.

  [Jemisin] Even better! Then I still win!

  [GRRM] How does that even work?

  [Jemisin] Simple, heads I win, tails he loses.

  [GRRM] But -- but--

  [K. Tempest "Teacup" Bradford, wired with a trigger warning alarm, storms into the room. She looks at Scalzi, Martin, and Gerrold, and all of her alarms blare. She dives behind Jemisin] I see men, I'm scared. I need a safe zone!

  [Jemisin] Relax, K., these are OUR old white guys.

  [Bradford] Oh, okay.

  [GRRM looks over at her, confused] You know, if you're so against straight white male authors, shouldn't you be with Sad Puppies? They have Sarah Hoyt and Cedar Sanderson, and--

  [Bradford sneers] They're not the right kind of writers! They have the wrong fans.

  [Scalzi nods sagely] Quite. Hear hear. I concur.

  [GRR Martin sighs, looking at Teacup Bradford] But in your own public statement, if you're white, that's bad, but if you're female you can still write good stories. If you're male, that's bad, but if you're not white you can still write good stories. If you're straight, that's bad, but if you have some sort of complicated gender-relationship that requires you to invent a new set of vocabulary words and then get upset at people who don't immediately understand what the heck you're talking about, then you can still write good stories ... [Martin gestures frantically to the others] WE'RE OLD STRAIGHT WHITE GUYS!

  [Scalzi shook his head] Come now, let's not ignore Arthur Chu. He's … got his own issues. And David's gay.

  [Gerrold] VOOOOXXXX DDDAAAAAAYYYYYY

  [Scalzi] – I think. He hasn't exactly been coherent in years.

  [Martin pounds his head against the table] Guys, listen, about the tone we've been taking--

  [Scalzi] Well, what do you think we should do, George? You're not offering any alternatives. You're just saying we should all be "reasonable." I'm very reasonable. After all, I helped Ancilliary Justice win
last year, didn't I? Over the entire Wheel of Time series.

  [K. Tempest Teacup] What does reason have to do with anything important?

  [Martin] Well, I think we should approach this like authors. Calm, rational, well-crafted arguments--

  [K. Tempest Teacup] With lots of talking points! About how they're all racist, sexist, and bigoted! I bet the people over at Making Light have some good memes."

  [GRR Martin shudders] The Disemvowler? She and her husband started this whole mess by leaking who got the nominations! No, we fight as authors, not as Internet meme-bots!

  [Scalzi puffs on his pipe] Well, I do know all about fighting wars. I wrote this book, Old Man's War--

  [K. Tempest Teacup] Old men!? Where! Hissssss.

  [GRR Martin] Yes, but what have you done lately, John? Now you're known for writing Star Trek fanfic.

  [Scalzi] But at least I don't kill off 92.45% of my characters!

  [Martin takes a deep, calming breath] Listen. My point about tone still stands. Death threats? I mean, really--

  [Arthur "Ladyboy" Chu dashes in, wearing a frilly pink dress] I've got the bomb threats scripted!

  [Martin facepalms] For f*(k's sake....

  [Chu continues, waving his arms. Some of the feathers from his pink boa go flying] We call in the bomb threat, just like my friends did during that GamerGate thing. And then, when everyone is out of the building, we'd be in the room with all the ballots, and then, we lock out all the Puppies.

  [Scalzi] Just capital!

  [Bradford] Brilliant!

  [Martin] But guys--!

  [Jemisin] That'll show Vox Day!

  [Gerrold] VVVVOOOOOOXXXXX DDAAAAYYYY

  [Scalzi] Exactly, David! What can Vox do? Call out Cthulu on us?

  [Martin, frantic] Guys!

  [Scalzi] Meeting adjourned!

  [Everyone leaves. Martin is alone in the room, banging his head against the table.] I can't believe how stressful that was. Minions! I need to relax. Fetch me more characters to kill off!

  ~Fin~

  Putting Down the Puppies

  Somewhere in Utah

  [Theresa "Many Hands" Neilsen Hayden and John "Noah Ward" Scalzi sit side-by-side in an open dog catcher truck, with K. Tempest "Teacup" Bradford in the back seat, reading Redshirts]

  [TNH, driving the truck, looks over at Scalzi] So, what's with the nickname "Noah Ward?"

  [JS strokes the hairless cat in his lap] Someone has to no award the puppies.

  [TNH] Heh. Yeah. That'll be interesting. You know that if we do that, we might as well burn the Hugos down ourselves.

  [JS] Better dead than anything other than red. I could ask if you're taking the whole "Puppy" premise a little too literally, with the truck.

  [TNH] Well, it's not like the current plan is working. Little nudges to give negative reviews to authors? Seriously, you might as well have said, "who will rid us of these turbulent puppies?" That's a plan?

  [JS] It killed Thomas Becket. And anything that offs a Catholic can't be all bad. With luck, it will kill their careers. We probably wouldn't have needed to do that much if you hadn't leaked that the Puppies had taken over the slate of nominees before the official announcement.

  [TNH] Are you saying I broke the rules?

  [JS] Of course not. Rules are for little people. Like the Puppies. And their followers. And anyone who says that they followed the rules to the letter.

  [TNH] Does that mean that we put out a fatwa on J. Michael Straczynski?

  [JS] Don't be stupid, he's a rising Hollywood bigwig with his own studio. I hope he might hire me one day. Besides, he's really tall. He scares me. If I ever see him in person, I'm going to pretend that he didn't tell us to put up or shut up.

  [TNH] Whatever. Thankfully, EW ran the article as we expected.

  [JS's cat rolls its eyes. JS himself sneers] They retracted the whole thing.

  [TNH turns the corner] Thousands read it before it was pulled. Don't worry, we'll catch these puppies, and then we'll put them down like the rabid dogs they are! BWUAHAHAHAHAHAHA

  [JS sighs] Tut-tut, Theresa, darling, we mustn't slip into full-on mad scientist yet. Tor may yet hire you back.

  [TNH] Spoil-sport.

  [JS looks into the back] K., how are you enjoying Redshirts?

  [K. Tempest Teacup shrugs] Eh, it's okay. Feels like bad Star Trek fan fic.

  [JS blanches] What? My book isn't that bad!

  [Teacup, realizing that she broke her promise to never read anything by straight white men, screams with the wail of the damned. She thrashes as though having a seizure, smacking TNH upside the head. The truck veers off the road, crashing into a ditch.]

  [JS] Sigh. Not again.

  [Three hours later, down the road, lying in wait, are the Evil League of Evil. Tom Kratman tirelessly watches the road, awaiting the dog catcher truck. John "Dr. O. No" Ringo, now that the sun is down, furiously taps away on his laptop, cranking out a rough draft of a 15-book series on an alien invasion. Larry Correia, the International Lord of Hate, is fisking the entire back catalog of The Guardian. The Cuddly Skeletor, Brad Torgersen, clutches the flamethrower on loan from Larry, looking like a kid waiting for Christmas morning.]

  [LC looks up] I'm running out of Guardian articles. Are they coming or not?

  [TK growls, frustrated] I don't see them. We still have the Claymore mines ready and waiting to blow them straight to Hell at the first sign! Assuming the land mines in the road don't get them first! Or the three backup snipers!

  [LC] Geez, Tom, are you sure that we'll even need to fire a shot, assuming they ever get here?

  [TK] Better to be prepared than not.

  [LC sighs, closes the laptop, and stands up, taking care not to hit the flagpole above him] Okay, everyone, we're packing up. Brad, sorry, no flamethrower for you tonight.

  [Brad, frustrated that he never got to use his flame thrower on the self-destructed anti-Puppies, fires it off into space. The massive fireball makes it way to low orbit. It impacts and explodes against a low-flying alien spacecraft, a scout for the incoming armada. The armada, thinking their surprise has been ruined, turn around and retreat. The wounded ship hurtles in an uncontrolled descent, slamming right into Tor's officers, taking out the entire suite of offices, and a few cockroaches -- including an intern named Joe Buckley, but no one noticed one way or another, since interns are all disposable anyway. But Joe died happy. He FINALLY got to see an exploding space ship!]

  [LC pats Brad on the shoulder] We'll get them next time.

  [Hours later, Sara Hoyt's cat saunter up to the truck, finding TNH's laptop on the side of the road. Together, the cats type up a short story called "If you were a Catnip Ball, My Love." This will later win a Nebula.]

  ~Fin~

  Introduction to Minions of the Puppy Kickers.

  The nice thing about social media? It is an infinite source of stupid. It really is.

  For example, there is a guy who works for Tor Books named Moshe Feder. He seems to have no other job but to troll Sad Puppies on Facebook and blogs. According to the grapevine, he's a special snowflake who must only deal with A-listers like Brandon Sanderson ... who, apparently, doesn't actually need an editor. Take from that what you will.

  I watched on of his endless tirades on Facebook spiral out of control into a hate fest of epic proportions, where friends of mine were attacked, I was attacked, I went a few rounds with David Gerrold -- who really does scream Vox Day a lot -- and who smashed down on my Bruce Banner button.

  Then they went after another friend of mine, Sherry Antonetti, she of The Book of Helen. I have very, very, very few friends. I love my friends. Touch my friends, you lose your fingers.

  Then there was Irene Gallo who stated on her Facebook page that both groups of puppies were “extreme right-wing to neo-nazi groups …. that are calling for the end of social justice in science fiction and fantasy. They are unrepentantly racists, misogynist, and homophobic. A noisy few but they've been able to gather some Gamergate folks around t
hem and elect a slate of bad-to-reprehensible works on” the 2015 Hugo ballot.

  Irene Gallo, for the record, is a creative director at Tor books. You have to wonder if she even knew that these “bad to reprehensible works” INCLUDED BOOKS BY TOR ITSELF. Did she not read that part of the Puppy-Kicking talking points?

  Anyway, that was a while ago. But puppy food is a dish best served cold … oh, never mind.