I was at the doctor's office...

Please Do Not Shoot Me in the Face

By Bradley Sands

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

I was at the doctor's office.

"Well, Doc. It's like this. I have a headache the size of Baltimore, My nose runs like the winner of Kentucky Derby, My body is aching for the fjords and I have an irresistible desire to discuss Existentialism with Nietzsche's horse"

"What have you been reading lately, Marvin?

"Oh, the usual The Great Gatsby, Ulysses, The Exesis of Philip K. Dick at one sentence a day, and unsolicited excerpts from Journey to Virginland".

My doctor shook his head. He pulled out the rectal thermometer, looked at it and shook his head again. "It's quite obvious. You are having a bad case of taking yourself too seriously". He handed me a copy of Bradley Sand's Please Do Not Shoot Me in the Face.

"Read these three stories. One for each night then report to me on Thursday. Do not try to read more than one a night as it could have devastating consequences."

I left fifteen minutes later, of which ten minutes of it was spent begging the doctor to put the rectal thermometer back in. When I got home I looked at the relatively thin book and said, "Posh! (the Spice Girls were staying the night). I'm the only man who ever read Ouspensky's In Search of the Miraculous in one night and survived." So I began reading. Wait! This is actually three novellas. It's a novel. No, now the author says it isn't. I was getting confused. I soared through the first novella, a cute little Bizarro comedy called "Frankie Nougat and the Case of the Missing Heart". I found myself forgetting about Nietzsche's horse, probably just in time since the horse was changing into something more comfortable. Frankie is sad and funny and his dog is cute, talks, and is occasionally a substitute for a gun. Then I turned to "Cheesequake Smash-up" in which all the fast food franchises are involved in a destruction derby with floating buildings. Wait a minute. Is my house moving? I can no longer feel my toes. So I took a break and asked Posh Spice to feel my toes for me.

Then I read "Apocalypse Ninja". OK already . The first two were funny but this is a blast. The world's worst ninja takes on the world's worst pirates. Bradley Sand writes like a maniac with a chainsaw and I'm liking it. But my body started to revolt. I was being pummeled by my own intestine totally unaware that I ripped off that line from a sci-fi novel written by the 2nd president of the United States. I've totally forgotten about Nietzsche's horse but the fantasy was replaced by visions of ninjas, floating McDonalds, and talking animals. I began to realize that writing like a Bizarro author is not as easy as it looks and should be left to the maniacs with a chainsaw.

So I rushed back to the doctor and he told me to lay off Bizarro for a day or two. Read something trashy like 50 Shades of Grey or Atlas Shrugged before tackling another Bradley Sands Bizarro fest.

"By the way Doc, is it one novel or three novellas?"

"When you win the lotto do you ask if the bills are in 10s or 20s?"

"Good point" Actually it wasn't but he's the Doc.

"One more thing, Doc. Why it is there a cauliflower growing out of my nose and whistling the Ode to Joy?"

Doc shrugged his shoulders. "It's Bizarro."

Method acquired: Purchased