Authors: Iii Carlton Mellick
Tags: #Literary, #Fantasy, #Horror, #General, #Fiction
Also by Carlton Mellick III
Satan Burger
Electric Jesus Corpse
Sunset With a Beard
(stories)
Razor Wire Pubic Hair
Teeth and Tongue Landscape
The Steel Breakfast Era
The Baby Jesus Butt Plug
Fishy-fleshed
The Menstruating Mall
Ocean of Lard
(with Kevin L. Donihe)
Punk Land
Sex and Death in Television Town
Sea of the Patchwork Cats
The Haunted Vagina
Cancer-cute
(Avant Punk Army Exclusive)
War Slut
Sausagey Santa
Ugly Heaven, Beautiful Hell
(with Jeffrey Thomas)
Adolf in Wonderland
Ultra Fuckers
Cybernetrix
The Egg Man
APESHIT
CARLTON MELLICK III
AVANT PUNK
AVANT PUNK
AN IMPRINT OF ERASERHEAD PRESS
ERASERHEAD PRESS
205 NE BRYANT
PORTLAND, OR 97211
WWW.ERASERHEADPRESS.COM
ISBN: 1-933929-76-6
Copyright © 2008 by Carlton Mellick III
Cover art copyright © 2008 by Ed Mironiuk
www.edmironiuk.com
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and
retrieval system, without the written consent of the publisher, except
where permitted by law.
Printed in the USA.
Author’s Note
I was always into low budget horror movies. The
crappier they are the better. After I played an insane priest
in the low budget horror movie
The Ancient
, I really wanted
to write a screenplay for my own crappy low budget horror
movie. Why the hell not? The typical cliché involving a
group of teenagers in the woods getting killed off one at a
time for some reason or another is my personal favorite. I
wanted to do something like that, yet give it a little twist.
You know, like where it turns out that the crazy supernatural
killer in the forest won’t die because instead of internal organs
he’s filled with a bunch of corndogs, and the only way to kill
him for good is to eat all the corndogs out of him, but none
of the characters are all that hungry because they just ate
some sandwiches so they’ve got to get to town and find some
fat guy who would be able to eat all the corndogs for them.
Of course, that wouldn’t be as easy as it sounds because the
killer would have this crazy hairdo that is like a mullet
but it’s also a chainsaw. You know, a Chainsaw Mullet,
which is what the movie would be called, and what all the
characters would get killed with in horrible yet interesting
ways. Now that I think about it, that sounds like a pretty
awesome movie. I should have written that one instead.
The movie I planned to do was called
Apeshit
.
Although I never got around to writing the screenplay, I
did turn the idea into this book. I figured if any director
likes this book then I’ll just write the screenplay for them
later.
Writing this book was a guilty pleasure, like Cybernetrix
or The Haunted Vagina. It’s not “serious” literature, but I
approached a goofy idea as seriously as I could. Somebody
once told me that the goofiest ideas often make the best sto-
ries. I’m not sure if I agree with that, but I sure like writing
goofy stories like The Faggiest Vampire, Sausagey Santa,
and The Morbidly Obese Ninja (forthcoming).
The problem with starting a book with a goofy idea
is that they rarely end up as comedies. Apeshit isn’t as
goofy as I wanted it to be. In fact, it’s pretty fucked up. I
didn’t want to write something so fucked up, but I guess I
really couldn’t control the story. It wanted to go in its own
direction. Harlan Ellison claims that his characters will
often take on lives of their own. He wants them to go one
way, but they want to go another. They take over his sto-
ries and write themselves whether he likes it or not. That’s
kind of what happened to me while writing Apeshit. The
story went in directions I didn’t want it to go and I couldn’t
do anything to stop it. I asked this story, “What the fuck
is wrong with you?” and it just flipped me off and went on
with its business. This book surely is not the most fucked up
book ever written, it wasn’t supposed to be, but it’s fucked
up enough. Part of me doesn’t actually want anybody to
read it.
I’m guessing people are going to accuse me of trying
to be “shocking for the sake of being shocking” with this
book. More so than any of my previous books. But this
couldn’t be farther from the truth. A few weeks ago, I was
talking to Chuck Palahniuk about the whole “shocking for
the sake of being shocking” thing, because both of us are
regularly accused of doing this. I told him that I’m just trying
to be interesting for the sake of being interesting. Whether I
succeed or fail at being interesting, that’s up to the reader to
decide, but I’ve never tried to shock anyone with my work.
I didn’t think anyone was actually shocked by anything any-
more. Chuck said that what some people view as interesting
other people view as shocking. But shock fades with time.
Eventually, people will see what is interesting about things
that used to be shocking.
It really doesn’t matter, though. It’s best to just
write for yourself and not worry too much about what other
people think. Everybody is going to think you’re just full of
shit anyway. All writers are full of shit. I wish we were full
of corndogs instead, but we’re just not.
- Carlton Mellick III, 08/23/08 1:56 pm
Desdemona is the only girl on the cheerleading squad
with a mohawk. It is normally colored white with red tips—
because red and white are the school colors—but she wants
to try a new color for their weekend in the mountains.
“What do you think: green, blue, or purple?” Desde-
mona asks Crystal, holding up three cans of hair dye with her
colorfully tattooed fingers. She is also the only girl on the
cheerleading squad with a full body suit of tattoos.
Crystal sighs at the cans of hair dye. It has been over
five weeks, but she still hasn’t accepted her best friend’s lat-
est choice of hairstyle.
“Green, I guess,” Crystal says. She drops her eyes to
an abortion information website on her laptop. “At least it
will match your eyes.”
“You’re right!” Desdemona says. “This is going to
be sooo cute!”
She smiles wide as she finishes shaving the sides of
her head with her dad’s mustache clippers. Then she reads
the instructions on the back of the hair dye bottle, blinking
her long black eyelashes rapidly.
“Punk isn’t a cute style,” Crystal says.
“Stop calling my style punk! It doesn’t mean I’m
punk just because I’ve got a mohawk.”
“Nobody has mohawks except for the punks,” Crys-
tal says, cleaning her laptop keys with a Handi Wipe. “Peo-
ple are starting to think you’re one of them.”
“But look at my clothes. I would never wear punk
clothes.”
Crystal shakes her head. “You think that matters to them?”
“I think mohawks are pretty,” Desdemona says. She
looks at herself in her vanity mirror, caressing the smooth
bald sides of her head. “And feminine.”