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After rave reviews from friends, I was obligated to imbibe this work despite hesitation in fear of what I thought might be a cheaply constructed, pulpy horror-fiction mess, but contained within were twenty-seven short stories that piqued my interests in different ways: Where has that steak knife been? Do aliens watch baseball games? Is there a mass conspiracy training program in the military? How long can one survive the apocalypse on Vienna sausages and cheap beer?
I got more than I bargained for to say the least. Sure, this book has plentiful amounts of horror for the adrenaline junkies, but what I was shocked to find is the soul hiding behind the layers of madness. I wouldn't discount LaFlamme's penchant for throwing in a good laugh either. When is the last time an author crafted a narrative that could bind a gut one page, question human existence the next, and conclude with a rewarding polish, snickering along the way? I haven't been this invigorated by an author since snacking on Stephen King's novels as a teenager. Each story is individually florid enough to fill a novel, so don't be driven away by the short story aspect. Just think of it as twenty-seven books for the price of one!
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