Happy Hour of the Damned: Drinks and Fingered Foods

I have a fear of zombies. It is a real fear. While I do not believe in vampires, demons or were-creatures, I do believe that zombies are within the realm of modern day existence.

I have recurring nightmares of zombies. I avoid zombie movies. They directly lead to nightmares.

In contrast. Zombie books. I do not avoid. I read them. I read them looking for information that will help to me survive the upcoming zombie war. This book was not one of those informative tomes.

Lately, I have been reading non-apologetic creature books. I refer to books about supernatural creatures that do not subject themselves to vegan or non-human diets or abstain from other nefarious acts against humanity in order to survive. It was the whining that bothered me.

I mean... A sober Vamp is a dead vamp. A ghoul must to eat. The were-creature who does not dance under the moonlight is dangerously grumpy. The necromancer has skeletons in her closet. That is where they need to stay for all of our safety.A demon that doesn't collect souls will  be shot back to Hell.

After reading some Felix Gomez, undead private eye, I picked up this Amanda Feral book. Happy Hour of the Damned is the first in what I hope to be an undead series from Mark Henry.

Imagine spending your entire life striving to be in the popular group since high school. Imagine never finding satisfaction with wearing the richest clothes and shoes, having a great apartment, a luxurious car, a professional and rich boyfriend, getting into the best clubs, invited to exclusive parties, competing with the best in your industry, and striking absolute fear into your subordinates everyday.

I know crazy, right?

Despite all of her money, influence and resources Amanda had not find her clique. Her special group of BFFs to make her life complete and accept her completely without looking at her back while imagining the best location to hide their knives - blade in first.

Then one day Amanda falls flat on her face and her life changes forever.

I think she expresses it best here:

You know, I could just sit here and ramble on about the nightmare of being dead, eating helpless people, breaking and entering, not having circadian rhythms. I could tell you that I was horrified with the direction my life had taken. I'm on a downward spiral into a vision of Hell not glimpsed since a Nine Inch video. Blah, blah, blah. Who wants to hear it? It's not true, anyway. The truth is this: I wasn't enjoying life when I was alive. Now that I'm dead, its' gonna be another story.

She doesn't need this book. She is going to wing it. That is with her right hand zombie gal pal Wendy, the man-whore vamp Gil, and the soul sucking demon Liesl. If only I had friends like her. The four of them party around Seattle having the times of their "lives."

 That is until, someone starts kidnapping members of the supernatural community and all zombie hell starts breaking loose at local Starbucks shops. What will Seattle do?
No worries. Amanda Feral is on the case.
Queue disembodied deep voice....
Will the undead gang will save the vampires, were-creatures, reapers and demons from fates worse than death without Black Magic cocktails?

Black Magic = 1 1/2 oz vodka, 3/4 oz Kahlua, dash lemon juice. Served in a Collins glass with ice.



I give this book an A for being funny, witty,  fast paced and full of great cocktail recipes. Pick it up so that we can toast to more stories of Amanda's night life.