What do you think?
Rate this book
Venum
Eddie Broccoli is a reporter. He came across a beautiful woman on the street and felt that she had a news worthy story somewhere under them clothes of hers. Following the two f%cking like prairie dogs, our pal Eddie finds himself with an S.T.D.; but, and that's a big 'ol but; like, a but that makes ya' go, 'Why me? Why me? Why me?' Eddie's STD becomes an entity; and an entity trying to take over. This stringy, black oil wants to bring the villain out in him; and, our boy Eddie, ain't the only person exposed. Nope; Evil Dr. Bad has found himself the perfect career criminal to test the toxicity of this parasitic biological tar. Like any greatly written, and uniquely creative story, this test gets out of control.
This is a new series of books where I watch trailers for upcoming films and write a short story based on what is shown of the film in the preview. I write stupid shit of what I think will occur, and basically, just fuck up the whole Hollywood movie recipe in a new way that would never be shown in theaters because it isn’t the status quo.
About Bridget Chase
Bridget Chase is an American author. He was born in Houston Texas; studied art at the University of Texas San Antonio (bore) where he received his Bachelor of Fine Art. He was a school teacher for many years, but left because it sucked ass. Bridget currently resides in Boulder Colorado where he has an art studio and works everyday writing new stories and eating pizza.
This is a new series of books where I watch trailers for upcoming films and write a short story based on what is shown of the film in the preview. I write stupid shit of what I think will occur, and basically, just fuck up the whole Hollywood movie recipe in a new way that would never be shown in theaters because it isn’t the status quo.
About Bridget Chase
Bridget Chase is an American author. He was born in Houston Texas; studied art at the University of Texas San Antonio (bore) where he received his Bachelor of Fine Art. He was a school teacher for many years, but left because it sucked ass. Bridget currently resides in Boulder Colorado where he has an art studio and works everyday writing new stories and eating pizza.
16 pages, Kindle Edition
Published August 6, 2018
1 person is currently reading
About the author
Bridget Chase
202 books1 followerBridget Chase was an author, artist, and clone. He was born in 1934 and died in 1944. Bridget was a clone of Redhat Dick and was created- fully grown- in a underground scientific laboratory in France.
By all accounts Bridget Chase was a villain. From robbery, to kidnapping, and theft of all kinds; he seemed to never find satisfaction in following rules. Dr. Stan Fantastic, Bridget's psychiatrist, deemed his activity as one born of a troubled mind.
In Dr. Fantastic's own words, "How could one blame Bridget? To be born a clone must, by all accounts, be a terrible tragedy. To not be original, a sovereign individual; well, the country itself should be held accountable. For it was shown in the case of Natalie Hotdayum, that clones are doomed from their very creation."
Bridget Chase did find some peace of mind in creating art and writing. His books are vast and follow similar patterns to his counterpart Redhat Dick featuring qualities such as weird sensibilities, bizarre story lines, and misogynistic over tones.
Bridget Chase was sought after for the death of Redhat Dick in 1943. Redhat Dick was found frozen on the snowy banks of eastern Pennsylvania. Bridget was never convicted but family and friends were never convinced of his innocence.
Bridget Chase died the following year in just as questionable of circumstances. His body was discovered in the bushes of a vacant home in Pennsylvania. The only clue being a note in his jacket pocket from an unknown entity calling themselves Instant Bunny. The note included an invitation along with a six digit number.
Redhat Dick and Bridget Chase on many occasions co authored stories. Yellowhatdick Magazine gained legal control over Bridget's work when the acquired Redhat Dick's. In 2015 Yellowhatdick Magazine began to publish their works under the publishing company Chase Entertainment.
Excerpt; Zombie Thriller
In a den of darkness, he sat.
Primordial forms slipped through the cracks which framed the door to his troubled mind.
The fireplace’s flickering torments struck harshly at the house of his soul. The licking flames built shadowy dreams along his mansion’s walls.
Shelves displaying morbid treasures were no consolation to the sadness that imprisoned his black heart.
Memories played over his pinpoint pupils. Rob Zombie’s eyes looked into infinity. Death... you bastard.
The smoke from his joint drifted in languid spirals from between his pinched lips.
Long white dreadlocks and a white beard framed his old face. Wrinkles of time, imprinted in permanent paths, scarred his features.
Rob’s high back leather chair hugged his body. Its size- making him small like a child.
And like a child, Rob was fantasizing. His dreams were a multifaceted carousel of hallucinatory images- around and around and around they went.
The tightly wrapped joint was released from his fingers and placed in the ashtray. Fire light gripped part of the chair. Rob sat in its dark shadow. Tendrils of smoke rose- dissipating into the eternity of the invisible quantum planes.
A crumpled receipt lay atop the side table, finding a home on its dark wood surface. Next to it, sat a box of single edged razors.
By all accounts Bridget Chase was a villain. From robbery, to kidnapping, and theft of all kinds; he seemed to never find satisfaction in following rules. Dr. Stan Fantastic, Bridget's psychiatrist, deemed his activity as one born of a troubled mind.
In Dr. Fantastic's own words, "How could one blame Bridget? To be born a clone must, by all accounts, be a terrible tragedy. To not be original, a sovereign individual; well, the country itself should be held accountable. For it was shown in the case of Natalie Hotdayum, that clones are doomed from their very creation."
Bridget Chase did find some peace of mind in creating art and writing. His books are vast and follow similar patterns to his counterpart Redhat Dick featuring qualities such as weird sensibilities, bizarre story lines, and misogynistic over tones.
Bridget Chase was sought after for the death of Redhat Dick in 1943. Redhat Dick was found frozen on the snowy banks of eastern Pennsylvania. Bridget was never convicted but family and friends were never convinced of his innocence.
Bridget Chase died the following year in just as questionable of circumstances. His body was discovered in the bushes of a vacant home in Pennsylvania. The only clue being a note in his jacket pocket from an unknown entity calling themselves Instant Bunny. The note included an invitation along with a six digit number.
Redhat Dick and Bridget Chase on many occasions co authored stories. Yellowhatdick Magazine gained legal control over Bridget's work when the acquired Redhat Dick's. In 2015 Yellowhatdick Magazine began to publish their works under the publishing company Chase Entertainment.
Excerpt; Zombie Thriller
In a den of darkness, he sat.
Primordial forms slipped through the cracks which framed the door to his troubled mind.
The fireplace’s flickering torments struck harshly at the house of his soul. The licking flames built shadowy dreams along his mansion’s walls.
Shelves displaying morbid treasures were no consolation to the sadness that imprisoned his black heart.
Memories played over his pinpoint pupils. Rob Zombie’s eyes looked into infinity. Death... you bastard.
The smoke from his joint drifted in languid spirals from between his pinched lips.
Long white dreadlocks and a white beard framed his old face. Wrinkles of time, imprinted in permanent paths, scarred his features.
Rob’s high back leather chair hugged his body. Its size- making him small like a child.
And like a child, Rob was fantasizing. His dreams were a multifaceted carousel of hallucinatory images- around and around and around they went.
The tightly wrapped joint was released from his fingers and placed in the ashtray. Fire light gripped part of the chair. Rob sat in its dark shadow. Tendrils of smoke rose- dissipating into the eternity of the invisible quantum planes.
A crumpled receipt lay atop the side table, finding a home on its dark wood surface. Next to it, sat a box of single edged razors.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
No one has reviewed this book yet.