Sad Puppies Bite Back: A Parody

by Declan Finn

  [Larry Correia hefts his flame thrower] Hey, Brad, take this with you. Something to keep you entertained.

  [Brad grins and clutches the flame thrower like a favorite toy] Thanks, Larry.

  [Larry] Think of it as a care package. Anyone can give you socks and chocolate, but who's going to send you a custom flame thrower.

  [Knighton and Brad leave. Sarah looks around the table] Where's Kate Paulk? We should probably start coordinating for next year.

  [Tom Kratman smiles] I think she said something about greasing up the impaling poles.

  [Off in the distance, there is the faint sound of a tank rumbling off into the night.]

  Top Secret Safe Zone

  [Arthur "Ladyboy" Chu slinks in and crashes on the couch, his pink feather boa limp. Despite being tired, he looks satisfied] It couldn't have worked out any better if you had let me call in a bomb threat.

  [John "Noah Ward" Scalzi slumps into an armchair, dropping his helmet to the ground. No one else sits near him. He still smells of fish] Look at the bright side, you weren't hit with a carp trebuchet by Tom Kratman.

  [George RR "Angel of Death "Martin comes in, unhappy, but untouched. He hurls himself into his throne of skulls like it was an easy chair] I guess we should look at the bright side. At least no one got eaten by Cthulhu.

  [Scalzi glares at him] Oh, shut up, George.

  [Chu] Hey, stow it Scalzi. We locked the puppies out. We beat Theodore Beale.

  [GRRM blinks]. You mean Vox Day?

  [Both shush him frantically]

  [JS] Quiet, you want to summon him?

  [GRRM stares for a moment, opens his mouth to say something, then sighs, shakes his head and starts banging it on the table]

  [AC] Hey, I know how we won. We took down all of their jokes flyers at WorldCon about Amanda Green SFWA letter ... and all of those Pro-Puppy stickers ... we took it easily!

  [GRRM mutters from the table] Maybe you should have had a sense of humor about the whole damned thing.

  [Scalzi] Look at the bright side, not only did we keep out the puppies, we made Lou Antonelli look like a psycho when he called the cops on David Gerrold...even though there were more than enough threats of SWATting.

  [Chu pouts] But that completely spoiled all of my plans for him.

  [Scalzi rolls his eyes and groans] Seriously, Arthur, what could you have possibly done to Antonelli? Have one of your anti Gamer Gate morons call in a bomb threat again? How much did it help the last two times?

  [Chu looks off into the rafters, whistling innocently] Pity we couldn't follow through on all those threats our supporters have made.

  [GRRM looks up from the table.] But you morons! What did I tell you about trying to institute a rules change to blackball the puppies from the Hugos? Oh, yeah, DON'T DO IT!! What did you morons do? Call for a rules change, and then postpone until Sunday, in the hopes that everyone against you would have gone home!

  [Scalzi sighs] We'll just move the goalposts again, that's all, George. We planned for every contingency.

  [GRRM] And no awards! Seriously? No awards? I told you not to do it! We look like nutcases! Partisan hacks! I went there to have fun! You went there to trash the Hugos! I had to go give out my own awards in my hotel room. Don't you get that?

  [Chu] Hey! We won! They're all gone, Georgie! This year is over. We're safe from the sexists!

  [GRRM frowns] Next year's is being run by Amanda Green --

  [Chur frowns] Well, we can always call them racists.

  [GRRM] And Sarah Hoyt, from Portugal--

  [Chu gulps] Well, they're women, they're wimps.

  [GRRM] And Kate Paulk. You know -- The Impaler?

  [Scalzi groans.] I think I'm going to need my brown pants.

  [GRRM] And you took out nearly a third of the awards. You applauded them! And when someone in the audience disagreed, you shushed them like a five year old giving a monologue! All because of Vox Day! Vox Day! Vox Day! Vox Day!

  [Scalzi screams] No!

  [Chu] Don't!

  [Vox Day appears in a puff of smoke.]

  [Scalzi screams] But, but, THIS IS A SAFE ZONE!!!!

  [Vox walks over to Scalzi, and grabs him, shaking his hand and grinning] Thanks.

  [Scazli] What?

  [Vox] You destroyed the Hugos in order to prevent me from destroying the Hugos. Very well done. You had Mary Kowal buy memberships -- now we're going to do the same darn thing and buy even more than you did. We've already started the crowd funding site.

  [Scalzi blinks, confused] Why are you so happy? You're all supposed to be crying tears we can savor!

  [Vox laughs] Oh, Johnny, you went out there and paraded your pack of mummified authors and you're proud of it? You're in a business where Analog and Asimov subscriptions are down 90% from their numbers in the 80s. You're a bunch of old, shambling rejects from a nursing home! Hell, you guys took over 60 minutes for two puff piece awards. And the Dalek!

  [GRRM groans] Don't remind me!

  [Vox laughs] You had a freaking Dalek -- a genocidal alien Space Nazi -- roll out on stage and say that it was a fan of yours! You want that to represent your fan base? Can you exhibit any more tone deafness? I mean really? Any? It would have worked better if it had said it was my fan!

  [Vox shakes his head] I mean, you had a "fan writer" who stated in public that she was backed by Pat Hayden, and screamed out "Black Lives Matter" like a psychotic harpy! Oh, Johnny! Bubbie! I couldn't have scripted it any better. Believe it or not, I originally wanted to vote to put you in every category, just to show how easy it was. But Larry nearly blew a gasket. [Vox Shrugs] Oh well. [Lightly punches Scalzi in the arm] But hey, next year I'll work with the Impaler, and she's inclined to crush the hell out of you. Brad was way too nice.

  [Vox looks at GRRM's chair] I've got a chair like that at home. Mine's shorter, though. I had fewer people to kill. I'm not a fan of high chairs.

  [GRRM's eyes narrows] By the way, did you happen to send a Cthulhu after the Hugos?

  [Vox gives a little, mischievous smile] Maybe. And now that I know where this place is, well, you might have a Visitor from time to time. Heh

  [GRRM frowns] No one kills anyone here but me. The Lannisters say hello.

  [Vox fades into the shadows, replaced with an Elder god. The White Walkers swarm Cthulhu. Screaming ensues. Vox Inherits a chair.]

  2016

  Sad Puppies 4

  I didn't do an awful lot for SP4. By then, the treatment everyone received at the Hugos had driven many of them into the Rabid Puppy Camp, or the “I don't care” camp.

  The next entry, “A Puppy Wins a Hugo” was written in 2015, when I had a lot of people suggest to me that I should have SPBB up for a Hugo award nomination in Best related.

  Sadly, 2016 was the year everything came up Rabid Puppy. Which is a different story.

  A Puppy Wins a Hugo

  Declan "”the Pius One” Finn, Dark Lord of the Fisk. New York City Undercover Division of Sad Puppies, 2016

  [The SWAT team comes up to the Kelly green door. The leader counts down on fingers. 3. 2. 1--]

  [The door swings open of its own accord. The SWAT guys look at each other, then swarm inside. They are surrounded by stacks of books that head up to the ceiling, looking like hoarders, only with hardcover novels of Larry Correia, Tom Clancy, and Neil Stephenson. One bumps a pile with a hip, consequently burying the entire SWAT team alive in hardcovers.]

  [Enter Declan Finn, Undercover Sad Puppy Operative, pokes his head out on the enclosed porch] Oh, come on! You know how long it took me to organize my "to read" pile? I'll never keep track now.

  [DF growls and brings out his keychain of death -- which has two knives and a tactical baton -- and starts picking his nails with the keyblade] I hope these guys are still alive. I don't feel like mummifying corpses this weekend. I have cats to water board and Tor bloggers to fisk.

  [Finn blinks, and picks up a Brad Torgersen novel from the top of the book pile] Oh, hey, I've been looking for that one
.

  DAY 2

  [New SWAT team pulls up to the house. They approach cautiously, ever since the last team was reported missing]

  [SWAT Sergeant] "Do you hear Irish music?

  [SWAT #1] Yes...why are you dancing?

  [SWAT 2] It's...compelling...me to dance....Irish!

  [SWAT Sergeant] By all that is holy, not Riverdance!

  [DF emerges from a pile of books] You idiots again? Gah

  [DF adjusts speakers. SWAT team Irish step dances down the street, never to be seen again. DF sighs, moves to mailbox, muttering] I wonder if John C. Wright will loan me some of his Vatican Ninjas. It's not like he gets SWATted like this. He's a living brain in a jar, what are they going to slap the handcuffs on?

  [DF opens mailbox. Opens top letter] I'm nominated for a what?

  [Finn stalks upstairs, past the mountains of books, and starts writing an acceptance speech for a Hugo Award.]

  Ahem.

  I would like to thank the people of WorldCon for giving me a Hugo. I like to think that my selection has confirmed the complete uselessness of this award, especially since I wouldn't trust most WorldCon members to sit the right way on a pay toilet.

  It's nice to see that the Hugos' long stretches of having no taste whatsoever have finally been ended. Granted, they had to be ended by people who actually have a sense of humor, unlike the mummified walking dead who have been in charge thus far.

  After I leave this lovely banquet, I will take this Hugo, drive to the nearest gas station, and hopefully trade it in for something that's actually worthwhile.

  Right now, I would like to propose a toast: to the caterers who prepared tonight's food, and to the pigeons who crapped over David Gerrold's car.

  I would thank J. Michael Straczynski for inspiring me into a life of writing, but he's not here tonight. He's over in Hollywood, making his work into films and TV shows, while I have yet to be invited to write a porn adaptation of my own work. And neither have you, Mr. Scalzi.

  I would also like to thank John Scalzi and Gerrold for the death threats that your minions have bombarded me with. I'm sure I would have been physically assaulted by now, if said minions were brave enough to leave their parents' basements. As it is, I've already had two SWATting attempts made on me. So, thanks for that.

  I would like to thank Arthur Chu for all of the popcorn moments, as he continues to tweet from federal prison for conspiracy to blow up the GamerGate meeting in DC in 2015. I have sent photos of his ladyboy fascination to his fellow inmates. I hope he enjoys the results.

  I would like to thank the Sad Puppies, who should be happy today. Larry Correia started it to make a point, Brad Torgersen carried the torch, and Vox Day drove all of you even more insane than you were when we started, because David Gerrold was already going senile, but this proved it.

  Good night, everybody. And remember: UNLEASH THE PUPPIES!

  Declan looked at the speech and frowned. He turned it upside down. And sideways. He grimaced.

  Declan then balled it up and tossed it into the garbage. “Screw it. I'd rather have a Dragon Award.”

  Introduction

  The SWATting of Moira Greyland

  If you are not familiar with “The Story of Moira Greyland,” do a quick search. It boils down to a particularly nasty dark side to “True Fandom.” It is a dark, nasty side that I would like to see run through with a stake and set on fire. But that could just be me.

  It is a story about rape and incest, and child molestation. And they happened all at the same time.

  Moira Greyland is the daughter of a novelist who I never liked in the first place – I didn't like the content, I knew nothing about the author – who spent a lot of time producing stories on King Arthur. So, you can put the pieces together on the nickname.

  Also, for some reason, she has the label of “homophobe” slapped on her. Which is a cute trick. I interviewed her on my radio show (The Catholic Geek) and found she was far more pleasant than I am about every subject.

  Moira “Modred” Greyland

  If you don't know who or why the nickname ... you might be missing something

  Texas

  [SWAT leader looks around. They only have 15 guys. It technically should be enough, but it is Texas, after all] Okay, the 911 call said she has a weapon in there, it's loaded. and she's ready to us it. Research tells us that she's against transgender bathrooms and gay marriage, so don't worry if the 911 call is inaccurate.

  [SWAT nods. They are all hand picked from West Texas, and possibly the only Texas cops who didn't vote for Rick Perry]

  [SEAT leader] 3 ... 2.... 1... GO GO GO.

  [SWAT takes the door. Musical chimes next to the door ring out with strains of "Modern Major General," SWAT #2 shoots the chimes, changing the tune to "Admiral of the Queen's Navy." SWAT continues to sweep into the house, slipping on sheet music.]

  [SWAT Leader] Keep going. I think I hear something.

  [Off screen] You better, I'm practicing on a harp. And I can hear you trashing my house. Come in already.

  [SWAT sweeps into a parlor. In the center is Moira "Modred" Greyland, in a Disney Princess gown, hands still on her harp] May I help you gentlemen?

  [SWAT leader is about to open his mouth when he feels something at his feet. He looks down and discovers an adder sliding up his leg. He goes stone still, and slowly looks at his men. They have similar problems with other adders. He says, in a harsh whisper] What's with the snakes?

  [Greyland shrugs, and said, terribly polite] My mother's fans are allergic to even the sight of them. Their venom sacs have been removed, I only need them for fright factor. Now, may I help you?

  [SWAT leader] We heard about a homophobe with a gun here.

  [Moira gently bangs her head against the harp] More of you people? Really. Considering what happened to me, did you not think that I might have an opinion in the matter? Some insight? Seriously, does everyone have the empathy of a sociopath? Never mind, Hannibal Lecter had more empathy than those twits and ... you can move, you know that, right?

  [SWAT team frozen in terror. Moira rolls her eyes.]

  Three Days Later

  [SWAT team dances through the parlor, singing Gilbert and Sullivan's "A Policeman's Lot is Not a Happy One." Some of them are wearing the adders as necklaces.]

  [Moira continues to play, and mutters aloud] i'm going to have to find out if I have any more room in the D'Oyly Carte company. If they update it, they can use the SWAT gear for props.

  [Singing continues as the camera pulls away, and we FADE TO BLACK.]

  For the record, Moira Greyland's only contribution to this was mentioning the last bit with teaching the cops Gilbert and Sullivan. That was it. The rest is a result of my own deranged mind.

  Okay, my logic on the nickname: given the history on her mother's "major work," which was slash fanfic from Hell, anything that would wreck Camelot would be a plus. Why not Morgan Le Fey? Because she was the lead in those crappy novels. Yes, Bradley's major work boiled down to doing Wicked with the Arthur Legend, and it sucked. Imagine Politically Correct Fairy Tales, only meant to be taken seriously.

  If Modred was also made a positive force in that slash fanfic from Hell, forgive me. It was such f**king drivel, it made me want to bash my brains against a rock, and I didn't get that far.

  As for the adders ... look it up, it's in the Arthur Legend.

  Introduction to:

  Tingling Sensation

  So, yeah, this one.

  If you don't get the jokes here ... wow have you not been keeping abreast of the situation.

  There is an author named Doctor Chuck Tingle.

  Yes, I presume it's an alias. There is also a theory that it's an alias for Vox Day himself, but that's a presumption going around the internet. Assume it's garbage.

  Anyway, in 2016, Tingle was Hugo nominated for the “Best Related” book … Space Raptor Butt Invasion.

  Never thought you'd see a title like that, did you?

  And yes, I
do almost expect him to write that book mentioned at the end.

  Anyway, let's get this one over with.