Two Guys Walk into . . . Wait, what do you mean there are no Twinkies?

This post has nothing to do with NANOWRIMO.  Except for the fact that V.L.Locey stays in the habit of writing during NANOWRIMO.  She is one of my writing buddies throughout the year and I have learned a great deal from this awesome woman!  If it’s not hockey it’s zombies!  The things she dreams up – oye! 

Welcome my guest, friend, and fellow writer – V.L.Locey sharing a bit from her newest release -Two Guys Walk into an Apocalypse 3, a Zom- rom com! 

Before I start chatting about zombies I`d like to thank Ellie for having me back again, she must be getting tired of seeing me here. I`m like a bad penny, or that creepy third cousin that shows up at family affairs, or a zombie virus outbreak. Nice segue huh?

Smooth – very smooth!  I thank you for not bringing the guys this time .  Not that they aren’t welcomed,  just . . . . well I had to  toss the  sofa and  wingback chair after their previous visit.  Couldn’t seem to get that decaying zombie flesh off the sofa,  and  a piece  on the arm of the chair was still twitching –  it rather freaked me out.  Glad to have you back!

I know that many people just cannot think about romance and zombies being in the same book. I mean that is just squicky, and nasty, right? Well, not necessarily. If you stop and think about it, when would love ever be more important? The world is falling apart, the dead are rising up, and the Twinkies are all gone. Having someone to love and cuddle during such a horrendous time would certainly make survival that much easier. Just think of Daryl and Carol. Go on. I’ll give you a minute.

*Takes moment to enjoy recollections of Norman Reedus looking all sexy and whatnot*

 Yeah, recalling their reunion made me tear up too. See, love and romance and spicy things are needed when one is facing an apocalypse. With that in mind, may I present my newest novella in the Two Guys zom-rom-com series?



Paul and Gordon aren’t your typical zombie hunters. They’re a loving couple of educators who might be infected by the virus that is turning the world’s population into mindless, undead eating machines. So why haven`t they turned?  Well, Gordon has a theory about that. He suspects that those who march under the rainbow flag just might be carrying the cure for the plague in their bloodstream. Zendra, the massive pharmaceutical company where the mutated virus was made, certainly seems to be in a hurry to round-up all the gay survivors they can grab.

To avoid the clutches of Zendra, Paul, his partner Gordon, and a ragtag band of survivors head into the Great White North – the land of maple syrup, hockey, lumberjacks, and thick bacon. Here they plan to spend the winter, hopefully safe from roaming bands of undead, militaristic companies with far too much power, seedy groups of other survivors, and the always dreaded moose. Can two guys in love lead a motley crew to safety?

Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse 3: He`s a Lumberjack and He’s Undead is available at the Torquere Press Store, as well as all major eBook retailers.




My sigh and a steady but thin stream of urine pattering on the pine needles and last fall’s dead leaves were the only noises until something stepped on a branch directly behind me. The dead bough cracked like a pistol. My urine stopped flowing as my heart dropped into my gut. A hot breath blew over the back of my neck causing every fine hair to stand up on end. The exhalation stank of rotten teeth and pond scum. With one hand, I tucked the shriveled beast back into its BVD cage. If a phobie was going to rip me into strips I was not dying with my *#*#  out. That’s just a thing I have. Death can claim me but my genitals will be covered if I can manage it.

With a very unhurried demeanor and a sudden weakness in my legs and knees, I simultaneously reached behind my back for the gun while I swiveled my head around. The largest brown eyes I have ever seen gazed down at me. The creature shook its massive head and blew snot from its nostrils. My fingertips skimmed the gun as a scream of sheer horror escaped me. The moose promptly freaked out. It bulled forward (I know, it’s funny isn’t it? Bull plus moose. Ha. Ha. God, I hate moose) as if someone had rammed a hot poker up its bunghole.

I pulled the gun free and fired. The moose got over being scared and got royally pissed off, which was rather a bit of irony since I now was fearful of losing control of my bladder. Where I hit the monstrous beast from hell I do not know but I think we can rest assured that it was not a killing shot. Bullwinkle threw his head to the left and right. I turned to run, was hit in the shoulder by a moose brow and was thrown to the side like some insignificant gay Raggedy Andy. My face met a tree, my gun flew from my hand, and Sir Moose attacked the nearest bush thinking — in its brilliant moose way — that the bush was the man who had screamed in its face and then shot beside its ear. I watched all this from the ground where I was balled up in a fetal position, whimpering about the sap on my lower lip.

My shot must have roused the camp, for within a moment (although between you and me it felt much more like several hours) the sound of people crashing through the woods broke through the snorting, thrashing, and pawing the long-headed cousin of Bambi was doing. A brilliant light swept the area. I screamed. The moose spun from his bush battle. Rider and Gordon skidded into the scene, the beams from their flashlights hitting the moose right in his ugly, flubbery face. Gordon raised a shotgun into the air but never got the chance to shoot. The moose plunged between the men, sending both diving to opposite sides. Bouncing shafts of light accompanied the departure of the moose as he crashed away into the land of nightmares.

“Sweet Jeezus,” I heard Rider pant somewhere in the darkness. “Damned shame I didn’t have my deer rifle, we could have eaten on that bitch for a month.”

“Paul, are you okay?” my partner called as he struggled to get to his feet and locate his flashlight.

A mousey sound tumbled from me. I coughed and tried several times to find my voice. When I located it down by my spleen, I had a question for my saviors. “Did– Did he mean ‘bitch’ like that animal was a female, or like some sort of rural Southern expression like ‘Damn son, we could have eaten on that bitch for a week!’ when in actuality the beast was a male?”

Torque Press:


Thank you  for sharing that little bit.  I can’t wait to delve into this!   I have to confess I haven’t read it yet,  I am behind on my reading since I’ve been required to read  numerous other dry  materials for the day job. 


Author Bio:

             V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, belly laughs, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a steer named after a famous N.H.L. goalie, and a flock of assorted domestic fowl.

When not writing lusty tales, she can be found enjoying her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania, fresh cup of java in hand.

I love to meet new friends and fans! You can find me at-





My blog


More V.L. Locey Torquere Press books:

 Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse (Part of the He Loves Me For My Brainssss anthology), Two Guys Walk Into An Apocalypse 2:It Came From Birmingham, Love of the Hunter, Goaltender`s Penalty, All I Want for Christmas, Every Sunday at One (Part of the 2013 Charity Sip Anthology), Night of the Jackal.

 And coming soon exclusively from Torquere Press . . . An Erie Operetta and Early To Rise – A Toms & Tabbies Tale.



Ever have those days when your best laid plans go horribly awry?  It seems to be the running gag throughout my life.

I have these ideas and they sound so wonderful at the time.  My impulsive nature acts on them often before I think things through.   Sight gags are often funnier than written comedy but bear with me, I think you’ll find the humor.

We want to think about the good side of relationships; the romance, the love, companionship, stuff like that.  However my life isn’t so picture perfect as a happily ever after tale.  Opposites attract.  It’s like polar opposites and sparks fly.  In the bedroom – va va va voom. I daily life – sparks fly there as well.  Let’s just say make up sex is a great thing.  Two people of different personalities living in the same house, day in and day out are bound to have conflict.

Conflict leads to resolution, resolution to the make up session.  Ideally.

I had a vision of inspiration, and acted.  As Valentine’s Day is fast approaching I thought it best to clear the air, and get our differences resolved.  The kids were at a sleepover; the house was clean; I put on romantic inspiring music as I worked.  The new satin sheets were on the bed, rose petals spread on the bed, the candles lit throughout the house.  I put on what I considered to be my most flattering lingerie and sexy high-heeled shoes.  I added my best jewelry, and greeted him at the door with two glasses of chilled merlot in my hands.

Surprised wouldn’t exactly be the expression I was greeted with as he came in through the garage.  The table was set, the steak was ready to serve and I stood with wine in hand wearing the lingerie and an apron.  I’m happy to say the dinner was a success.  We talked between bites and cleared the air about our issues.  That was a good thing.

While I cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher, he took a shower.  I removed the apron and headed down the hall with my refilled glasses.  I leaned against the door frame, trying to strike the seductive pose as I admired the view on the bed.  It went sharply downhill from there.  I didn’t see the jeans laying in the floor as I stepped forward, tripping myself in the process.  My ankle twisted in the 4 inch heel, and I lunged forward throwing the wine on him and the bed.  When I fell on the satin sheets I slid across the end of the bed to the other side.  I grazed his leg as I passed so technically we did touch.  When my butt made contact with the floor m head made contact with the dresser drawer at the same time the glass I still held in my hand made contact with the wood and shattered cutting my hand.

Quite the romantic aren’t I?  What a mess!  What was intended to be a romantic evening ended up being an embarrassing trip to the emergency room.  After I put on more appropriate clothing and he showered again to remove the wine, we sat in the emergency room for hours.

We can laugh about it now, especially with the pain meds. Hope your plans work out better.