Get This Motherfucking Book On Yo Motherfucking Bookshelf

Monday, July 24, 2006

Big, big news people. The picture you are looking at is me holding my official, authoritative copy of Snakes On A Plane: The Novel. That's right, you heard me. I was in Barnes and Nobles today perusing the existentialists and getting a hard on, when I came across this masterful work of art. Immediately I knew it was the eighth wonder of the world. Fuck off Colosseum because this is 405 pages of wet your panties Snakes On A Plane In A Book action. Hold onto your booklights cause this "novelization," is pure dyn-o-mite! If I may be so kind as to share a random selection I came across just opening the book:

"When snakes fell out of the ceiling, Curtis and Tommy tried to hide in the narrow space between two seats where feet normally go. Curtis was really too tall to completely fit so he tried to squeeze himself into as small a space as possible. He could feel Tommy's body pressed up against his back, shivering. Curtis could see a guy lying on the ground in the aisle not more than a foot away and though he couldn't be completely sure, Curtis thought maybe the guy was dead. Not dead like in the movies where he would just get up and go have some coffee as soon as the director said cut, but really forever dead like Grandma Cooper and Tommy's goldfish and Tupac Shakur. There was also a lady throwing up in the seat across the aisle. A snake had bitten her on the neck just like Dracula and she was puking all over herself and banged her head on the wall, the window, and the seat in front of her...Curtis liked horror movies and gory video games...Tommy was way more sensitive. He couldn't watch nature shows because he felt sorry for the gazelles when the lions ate them. He even felt bad when villains died on TV and not just the big boss villain but the henchman too. In short, Tommy was a big pussy" (196-197).

Holy fucking shit that was intense prose. How is this not required reading in high school already? This may seem bold, but I'm just gonna go out there and say it. Given what I've read so far, which is just that passage and the author bio, I think we're looking at the next great American novel. Fuck Hemingway, fuck Fitzgerald, fuck Salinger, cause Christa Faust just bit their fucking heads off and digested them whole. As long as we're on the subject, I think it's important that you learn about the next great American writer, Christa Faust. "Born in New York City in 1969, Christa Faust...has a fondness for vintage high heels and Mexican wrestling." I will marry this woman. She is also the author of Final Destination 3: The Novel. I can't even believe how awesome this woman is. She is such a great writer, that she doesn't even need to think of plots. She just takes shitty movies and "novelizes" them. I bet you're sitting there right now fisting yourself over how stupid you were to not come up with this idea first. Too bad, because Christa Faust already did it. Anyone could have done it, but she did do it, and for that I thank her and declare her an American hero. Go out and buy this book unless you want the terrorists to win.