The End of Days... and the End of Everneath 2. What Would Your Last Line Look Like?

With the Rapture predicted to happen this Saturday, I decided I had to at least get to the end of my sequel to EVERNEATH... EVERNEATH 2: NEVERABOVE

So, I wrote The. Final. Line. 

At least if the Rapture does happen, and if I disappear sometime tomorrow, someone will be able to read The. Final. Line.

Now to write... The. Second. To. Last. Line. Without which, The. Final. Line. won't make any sense. 

Of course, after the Rapture, only evil people will be left. And they'll be dealing with Armageddon. Will they have time to read a YA Romance? I say... yes. Especially if the power's out, and their house is boarded up to protect from the Zombie Apocalypse (aim for the head), and they don't want to make any noise, what else is there to do but read a book?

But my book is on the computer... 

I can't share the last line, because it's way too spoilery, but I can say there are the words "trusted" and "eternity" in it.

I did show some of the discarded last lines on twitter, so I'll put them here too:

Discarded line #1: "I couldn't believe everyone was dead. I thought for sure someone would make it out of this book alive."

Discarded line #2: "I looked out into my backyard. It really was time to get out the old pooper scooper."

Discarded line #3: "Something itches."

So, what are some of your ideas for discarded last lines of your books? Or any books?

What are y'all doing this weekend? Planning for Rapture? Anyone else going to arrange some clothes on your front lawn to make it look like you... just... disappeared?

Clowns and Zombies, to Brighten any Monday

Happy Monday Y'all.

My kids have the day off of school. Again. Using my trusty tweezers, turkey baster and paperclip, I plan on going all MacGyver on their bums by escaping my house on a zipline that will take me directly to the Magic Kingdom.

Or maybe we'll just go to McDonald's.

1. I received plenty of books for my birthday, and gift cards to B&N. But these two books made me laugh because of how the givers made their decisions.

Emily Wing Smith gave me "Little Brother". She knew it was for me, because one of the blurbs says it's "a rousing tale of techno-geek rebellion."

Sis-in-law E gave me "Z.E.O. A Zombie's Guide to Getting A(Head) in Business". She said it was between that and "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies."

I guess I'm easily characterized. Brodi Ashton. Zombie Geek.

2. I never scream during movies.

But last Friday, Sam and I went to see a zombie movie. Yes, there were plenty of zombie surprises of the sort where the main character closes the mirror and the zombie's face pops up. None of those moments scared me enough to elicit a scream.

I didn't scream until something even scarier popped up in the bathroom: a clown. Underneath the stall door. I screamed bloody murder, and everyone in the theater had a good laugh at my expense. (It was a zombie flick, so I'm guessing 95% of the room were adolescent to middle aged males. The other 5% were me.)

I know it's almost become cliche to joke about how clowns are scary, especially to those of us traumatized as children by Stephen King's "IT" clown. But I really do think clowns are about the creepiest things around.

And when they're not creepy, they're sad.

A couple weeks ago, we went to a friend's work party. It was supposed to be kid-friendly, but whoever was in charge obviously had never met any kids, because they hired a clown. A poor, sad, neon-haired Hobo (Hobo homeless, not hobo spider) clown. He could frown even through his painted on smile.

His face art included tears, I think mostly to blend in with the real ones.

I had to bribe Kid C to go up and pet the duck.

Recently, blog friends Cath and Grace, on separate occasions, mentioned the quote from Ralph Waldo Emmerson: "Always do what you are afraid to do."

A good piece of advice. But I can't help answering in my head, "Guess it's time for me to go date a clown."

3. Wanna party?
James Dashner is inviting everyone to the launch party for his book The Maze Runner. If you are near Salt Lake City, go to The King's English tomorrow (Tuesday) at 5:00 p.m. James thinks that because of the time, no one's going to go. So let's show him that at 5 on a Tuesday in Salt Lake City, there's really nothing better going on.

If you go, be sure to find me and say hi.

In the Event of a Zombie Attack... Get Lost in the Forest of Hands and Teeth

There's a theme to my life lately, and it seems to be about Zombies.

1. Sam gave me this t-shirt for our anniversary.

"In the event of a Zombie Attack, remember to sever the head."

2. Sam also gave me a Kindle, and the first book I downloaded was The Forest of Hands and Teeth.

Anyone read it? It's a post-apocalyptic zombie romance. Music to my ear. Just the left one.Anyway, the book and the Kindle sucked me in like a fat kid in Wonka's chocolate river.

I showed the Kindle to everyone and bragged about how the screen looks exactly like a book page. Like I invented it or something.

This is how I hold it when I read it.

One little bratty kid said, "That's a lot of money to spend on a computer that's designed to look like a piece of paper."

To which I replied, "You are obviously not open to the Wonka magic. Haven't you ever been sucked up a chocolate drain?"

He shook his head.

Me: "And you never will."

Him: "Ooooh, I'm so scaaaaared."

Me: "Of not getting sucked up a chocolate drain?"

Him: "Is that a threat?"

Me: "Ummm... Who's on First?"

Lesson learned: never get into a fight of the wits with an eight year old.

3. In non-zombie news...

BeDazzle Me
There's just one down side to doing all my clothes shopping at Costco; the fashion there is hit and miss and I'm not hip enough to know the difference.

Costco: the Fashion Capitol of Brodi's World

So, you know how like five years ago, people started wearing old school print tee shirts? Did they? I don't know. Maybe. Anyway, in my effort to de-black my wardrobe, I bought a yellow tee shirt with some sort of design on the front.

It wasn't until I stepped outside that I realized I glittered like Edward at the beach. The shirt had a million little rhinestones on it. Then I remembered that the last time I even heard the word "rhinestone" was in the 80's, usually in reference to country music, and so this couldn't be good.

To make matters worse, my younger son B has excema, and all day yesterday he would follow me around, rubbing up against my shirt. To itch his scratch. Especially on his head. Every time he walked away, there'd be a little pile of dead skin on the floor.

On top of it all, the rhinestones are in the shape of a giant bird, flapping it's wings. When I put it on, it looked like a blind bald eagle flew head first into my chest, and upon collision instantly turned sparkly as he gave up the ghost.

See what happens when you try to de-black your wardrobe? You end up with a national emblem, looking like he's hanging onto your funbags for dear life.

Today is my writing marathon, and I plan to write 2 billion words. What are y'all doin' for the fourth? I think I shall take Friday off from blogging, because Kid B needs to be potty trained. There's no better way to celebrate the birth of our country than to cover it in pee. So, you're all off the hook. Unless you have any good potty training advice.

To end with the zombie theme, enjoy the following Plants vs. Zombies music video. Give it a few tries. It will grow on you. Like a fungus. Of course, I was on Nyquill when I watched it.