Sad Puppies Bite Back: A Parody

by Declan Finn

[Sarah poses prettily, stops traffic for surrounding mile]

  [Miriam] Ditto!

  [Miriam poses next to Sarah. Traffic accidents happen all over Spokane]

  [Brad laughs] You're just lucky Cedar isn't here, yet. She's a redhead. Your brain would probably melt.

  [Knighton] You sure it hasn't already?

  [Gerrold] VVVVOOOOXXXX DDDDAAAAYYYYY

  [Everyone exchanges a look. Shrugs]

  [Brad] Where?

  [Gerrold] Homophobes! White men!

  [Sarah raises Schwartz ring to blast him into a million furry balls of fluff, Miriam waves her off]

  [Kratman steps up to Gerrold in perfect parade ground march] Listen, you ignoble bastard, insult my people any more, I will call you out to a duel, and my ivory-handled pistols will probably hit you before your hand can clear leather!

  [Gerrold] Don't you know who I am? I made tribbles! I'll unfriend you on Facebook! I'll unfriend allll of you on Facebook!

  [Ringo's children tackle Gerrold to the ground and start wrestling him]

  [Miriam] Kids! No roughhousing with the creepy old man! You don't know where he's been!

  [Sarah nods sagely] Not enough disinfectant.

  [Ringo slaps laptop down] Done! Larry, you'll have another book to edit when you check your mail.

  [Larry groans] Another? I'm still two behind.

  [Ringo chuckles, downs another Red Bull] So, who are we waiting on?

  [David Weber, Lord of the Missile Barrages, enters, talking into a headset as he carries a laptop in one hand, dictating his next book. Next to him is Mrs Weber, Queen of the Dual Wielding]

  [Larry nods] NOW we're all here.

  [Gerrold straightens.] And another thing--

  [Larry whistles] Wendell's Roughnecks! Charge!

  [Two thousand men and women, all wearing a t-shirt with a cuddly manatee on the front, all invade WorldCon, en mass, with Schardt, Lehman, and Paulk leading the charge. David Gerrold is lost in the stampede.]

  [Sarah rolls her eyes and smiles] Show off.

  [Kratman] Outstanding!

  [Knighton shrugs] I'll go park the tank.

  [Everyone disperses]

  [Scalzi, still under a pile of carp] Had enough? I'm invincible! I'll bite your legs off! Hello! Hello! All right, we'll call it a draw! Hello?

  VOX DAY, SUPREME DARK LORD OF DARKNESS, MANAGER OF THE ABYSS

  [SWAT team pulls up to the bridge. The driver looks out across the bridge, sees the dragon on a chain, belching fire and roaring. Beyond it lies a big black castle that seems to be a giant Minas Morgul variant. The sky is completely black, crackling with lightning. Beyond the bridge, the sun is shining. SWAT team empties out and stares at the giant address sign that says The End of All Things. The SWAT team leader steps under the cloud, and feels all hope and joy in the world being sucked out of him. He takes a step back and feels slightly better.]

  [SWAT leader turns to the others] I think we can all safely say in all honesty that no one can get within earshot of any guns firing? Agreed?

  [SWAT team piles back into the van and drives away]

  [In his Tower of Eternal Night, Vox Day, the Supreme Dark Lord of Darkness sits upon his throne of blood. He cackles as his viewer watches the SWAT team pull away. It is one of many screens. One screen is a live feed of a cave in Logan County, West Virginia, where degenerate hillbillies, drug-maddened Saponi and Shawnee shaman, blood-drinking devil dogs, together with an inhuman living fungi from Pluto, make hideous sacrifices and perform acts of unspeakable abomination to adore their ninety-one foot tall Vox Day idol made of radioactive black marble]

  [Vox laughs] There, there. Run while you can. I'll get you later for even DARING to enter my domain, right before I seek to RULE THE INTERNETS. But first, I must nuke the Hugos!

  [Vox looks to another screen, looking over the banquet call of WorldCon] Just wait until they get a load of this.

  Dun dun duuuuuunnnnnnnn

  WORLDCON

  [The Evil League of Evil is parked outside the Hugo banquette hall, waiting for the doors to open.]

  [Sarah Hoyt, Evil Yet Beautiful Space Princess, in a svelte red space suit, with sequins] So, Tom, what happened to that new batch of SWAT soldiers you were training?

  [Tom Kratman, Grand Strategikon, smiles] Lost about 70% of them when we got to the live fire exercises. The rest of them rang the bell. I think.

  [Sarah cocks her head] You think?

  [Kratman shrugs] They would have had to get to the bell first. The alligators may have gotten them.

  [Sarah nods slowly] You know what that means, right?

  [Kratman grins broadly, a twinkle in his eye] I have to make the tests harder!

  [Sarah inches away] Uh huh ... oh, look, Cedar has arrived!

  [Cedar Sanderson, the Busty Redhead, enters, wearing a pretty blue dress. Sarah dashes away while Kratman is distracted. Cedar, Sarah, Miriam -- Queen of all things Goth -- Correia's Valkyrie, and Mrs. Weber, the Queen of Dual Wielding, all gather and start to discuss proper accessorizing with weaponry]

  [The doors open. John Scalzi, the Noah Ward, stands in the entryway, backed by his legion of Noahs] You're not welcome here!

  [Larry Correia, the International Lord of Hate, rolls his eyes, then his shoulders. The machine guns clank against the bazooka on his back] Oh, shut it, Scalzi. I officially name you Bella now -- you lack personality, and you're really freaking tedious.

  [Scalzi spreads his arms and announces with the ego the size of Tom Hiddleston] I HAVE AN ARMY!

  [Larry] We have a tank.

  [M1A6 Abrams crashes through the wall, running over Scalzi's minions. Larry smiles] And you HAD an army.

  [The Abrams squeals to a halt. Tom Knighton pops out of the tank] Sorry about that. Sometimes the brakes stick. I didn't hit anyone, did I?

  [Larry steps past a vaguely catatonic Scalzi] No one interesting. Party time, folks.

  [John "Dr. O. No" Ringo walks up to Knighton. Ringo is wearing an outfit that is a tuxedo from the waist up, but a black kilt from the waist down] Nice tank. Didn't you bring Larry over?

  [Knighton nods] And Sarah, and Brad. Technically, John C. Wright, but he's in Sarah's handbag, so I don't think he counts.

  [Ringo furrows his brow] But how did you fit them all in the tank? Larry alone would --

  [Knighton frowns] It's bigger on the inside of course. Standard Abrams TARDIS.

  [Ringo] I need a drink. And coffee.

  [Cedar hangs back, watching everyone flow in. Sarah stops next to her] Coming?

  [Cedar] I always have a plan to kill everybody in the room. I'm just waiting for everybody to go into the room. Be right with you.

  [Sarah shrugs, goes in. David Gerrold pops up in front of her!] Homophobe! Racist! White man!

  [Sarah raises Schwartz Ring] Give me one good reason why I shouldn't blast you into a pile of tribbles.

  [John C. Wright, living brain in a jar, calls out from Sarah's handbag] Later, Sarah. Party first. Disintegrations later.

  [Sarah storms away, muttering] Never get to have any fun.

  [Wright] Let's hit the bar. You can pour some wine into my jar.

  [Gerrold continues screaming until Wright blasts him away with a burst of telekinesis]

  [Larry finds his table, and discovers that the Evil League of Evil have all been put at one table.] Hey, Wright, did you use your Vatican Illuminati connections to do this?

  [Wright] Duh! I can also get tickets to any Broadway show you like.

  [Larry puts his LMG on the table, then starts piling the weapons off of his back to sit down. After a minute and a pile of weapons three feet high, Larry frowns] Maybe I should have carried fewer weapons ... Naaaahhhhh.

  [Kratman brings over another table, then flips it over. Larry studies him a moment as Kratman repeats the process] Tom? What are you doing?

  [Kratman snaps to] I am creating fortifications in the event of an emergency.

  [Larry nods slowly] Sure, Tom.

  [Brad Torgersen, the Warm
and Cuddly Skeletor, walks next to Larry and puts down the flamethrower] Thanks for letting me borrow the flamethrower, Larry.

  [Larry] Not a problem. Get any use out of it?

  [Brad] I had to regrow my eyebrows a few times.

  [Larry runs a hand over his bald scalp] You get used to that.

  [Sarah brings a tray of drinks. She sets the tray down on the table, then puts Wright's jar next to a cup of coffee]

  [Wright's jar burbles] Thank you.

  [Sarah] No problem. You don't drink?

  [Wright] I do not drink … wine. Coffee on the cortex, though? Heaven

  [Sarah slides a water glass filled with scotch over to Kratman. Kratman downs it in a shot] Not strong enough.

  [Sarah shrugs] Best they can do.

  [Larry takes a glass of water off the tray] Yeah.

  [Brad looks around, opens up a program, and groans] This is going to be a boring party, isn't it? Look at these speakers: Scalzi, Igor, Gerrold ...

  [Sarah fingers her Schwartz ring with an evil glint in her eye] I can change that lineup.

  [Wright] Be calm, lady and gentlemen. I'm certain that with the appropriate application of logic, we can overcome anything.

  [Kratman tips over another table.]

  [Wright] Eventually.

  [Cthulhu crashes through the wall Knighton had driven through] Zuul, muthaf**kas! ZUUUULLLL!!!

  [Larry turns and opens fire automatically, dual wielding machineguns. Every Puppy supporter opens up with a weapon of some sort. Brad grabs the flamethrower. The tank opens fire. The Noahs run screaming like women; the actual women look for weaponry]

  [Sarah cheers and opens her communicator to her minions] Now this is a party! Cthulhumari!

  [Stormtroopers wearing the logo "Hoyt's Huns" teleport in and open fire, cheering] Cthulhusmari!

  [Cedar's eyes light up as she breaks out the claymore mines] Yay! I finally get to USE one of these plans this week!

  [Wright] I finally get to use these guys! Vatican ninjas, ATTACK!

  [Ninjas dressed in deep blue and gold outfits materialize from the ether and start slashing at Cthulhu]

  [Ringo comes back from the bar, picks up a gun from Larry's pile, and opens fire. The speakers have suddenly started blaring Cruxshadows' Winterborn.]

  [Kratman laughs, pulls out a giant remote control, extends the antenna] Finally! Something fun!

  [Cthulhu shrugs off the incoming fire, steps forward. Kratman hits a button. A trapdoor opens beneath Cthulhu’s feet, and it falls into a deep pit, landing on impaling spikes three stories tall. The guns fall silent. The Evil League of Evil look at Kratman]

  [Cedar] Really?

  [Kratman] Contingency plan 666. Made it the moment we started Sad Puppies.

  [Brad] Where did you get the spikes?

  [Kratman] Katie Paulk.

  [Larry] What would you have done if there were two of them?

  [Kratman] That's plan 667 -- use Sarah's moon.

  [Sarah gapes] That's no moon, that's a space station. And those weapons would have blown this corner of the country off the map!

  [Kratman shrugs] Acceptable collateral damage.

  [Larry facepalms] I need a drink.

  [Wright] But you're Mormon.

  [Larry sighs] I know.

  [Brad, to Cedar] Do you always carry claymores with you?

  [Cedar gives him a little smile] When I say I have a plan to kill EVERYONE in a room, I mean EVERYone.

  [Brad gulps and holds onto the flamethrower]

  [Sarah turns to her Huns] Deep fried Cthulu tonight!

  [Cedar] I'll get my guy to fire up the grill!

  [David Weber, Lord of the Missile Barrages, wanders in, talking into the dictation software on his laptop] Did I miss anything?

  [Larry] Long story.

  [Ringo frowns] I wonder where that elder god came from? Hmmm... [Ringo opens computer, starts on the next Princess of Wands novel]

  [Back at The Tower of Eternal Night, Vox Day sits back upon his throne of blood] I'll get you next time, Sad Puppies! Next time!

  THE END...

  For now

  Bite Harder

  After the Hugos, 2015

  [The Evil League of Evil sit at a table at the hotel bar. After a long weekend of partying, they look tired. John Ringo taps away at the laptop every few minutes. Sarah Hoyt looks pissed off. Larry Correia calmly sits in the corner, leaning back in his chair, sipping his water. Tom Kratman is polishing his ivory handled pistols, looking bored]

  [Sarah Hoyt, the evil yet beautiful space princess suddenly pounds the table, her ring of power blasting the bar mirror.] This was all bullcrap!

  [Larry shakes his head] Come on, Sarah, I told you so. When I started this, the point was to make it evident that the leftists in charge had made the whole thing about their clique. I would get the nomination, they would swarm to attack me, I wouldn't get the award, and then I would get back to cashing very large paychecks. And now, look -- five categories in which no awards are given, whether they had leftists nominated or not. I said the Hugos were dominated by cliques that cared more about an author’s identity and politics than the quality of their work. Tonight they proved me right.

  [Sarah glares] I don't care about that, Larry. We won the minute they lost their minds. Granted, I'd like Kevin J. Anderson and Toni Weisskopf to win. They deserve it. But the childish, immature, mummies on parade out there carried on in a fashion that first graders would be embarrassed by. Their IQ isn't even above room temperature!

  [Brad, the Cuddly Skeletor, nods sagely] And, seriously, they threw women under the bus. I mean, Toni and Sheila? Top editors in their field who are women? They got the most votes of any editor ever in the history of their category! Nobody has EVER gotten 1,200+ and 700+ Best Editor votes. That's historic! And their "True Fandom" ruined it with NO AWARD. The tolerant and inclusive True Fandom. The people who want science fiction to be a "safe place" for women. And they CHEERED when Toni and Sheila went beneath the bus. Either one of them got more votes on one shot than that Hayden creep ever did. That's just unreasonable.

  [Sarah continues. The angrier she gets, her accent thickens to the point that it sounds like she is about to talk about "Moose and Squirrel"] And when they No Awarded the entire short story category -- and let's face it, that was going after John C Wright -- and the audience finally had some booing, it was all [sounding nearly incoherent] "applause is appropriate, booing is not."

  [JCW, living brain in a jar, on the table next to her, says] Sarah, did you have a mini stroke?

  [Sarah] I was mimicking David Gerrold.

  [JCW] Ahh, I understand. How about you, Grand Strategikon? What do you think?

  [Kratman looks up from his guns] About what?

  [Sarah] The Hugos.

  [Kratman laughs] I never cared about the Hugos. Why should I? Remember, kids, I'm a Rabid Puppy. I wanted things no awarded. I have gone out of my way to be obnoxious and insulting just to get things nuked. Far as I'm concerned, this was a win. Five major categories given no awards at all? It's a good start. They want to burn down the house with themselves inside to keep us out? I've got no problem with that.

  [Ringo shrugs, not even looking up from the laptop] I said this when I arrived – I don't care about the Hugos at all. Jim Baen deserved one more than anybody, and they couldn't be bothered. So, screw 'em. And screw Scalzi.

  [Ringo closes the laptop, gets up, looks around] I'm going to get back to the room and pack. Gotta drive back with the family soon. And I need to write two more books on the drive or else I'll just go stir-crazy. Where's Cedar?

  [Sarah] Home. These people scare the crap out of her.

  [Ringo nods] Mindless zombies will do that. [He slides on a set of shades] You just gotta have faith.

  [Sarah] Seriously, John? You're not normally one for bad puns, even if they reference your books.

  [John] Yeah, that's something a hack writer would put on his blog. Forget I said anything.

  [Ringo leaves. His
Tankness, Tom Knighton, arrives at the table and claps Brad on the shoulder] Back to the Sandbox, Brad?

  [Brad sighs] Yeah, I guess so. Though I'm not sure that they'll get anything done with me around. The terrorists keep running away from me. And now I don't even have Hugo Awards snark to keep me entertained during downtime.