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eBook Category: Fantasy
eBook Description: Meet a dark God of rock 'n' roll, a were-retriever in a tuxedo, a troop of lost Brownie scouts, a brave and royal rat, and the patron saint of roadkill. Find out about the dark side of sushi, and what certain residents of Georgia do for thrills on a Saturday night. See how far love will go when it must. Lorelei Shannon's Vermifuge has a little dose of something for every reader of the fantastic.

eBook Publisher: Quintamid LLC, Published: Scorpius Digital Publishing, 2001
Fictionwise Release Date: March 2003

11 Reader Ratings: Great Good OK Poor

Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [899 KB], eReader (PDB) [275 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [281 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [252 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [411 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [304 KB], hiebook (KML) [659 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [389 KB], iSilo (PDB) [234 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [292 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [55 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [384 KB]
Words: 86000
Reading time: 245-344 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

"These are the kind of stories I haven't seen for a long time. The writing is muscular and energetic, the style is bravura and dazzlingly diverse, and the range of plots is as wide as the night. There aren't many authors who can surprise and delight the reader so consistently in the space of a single volume. Ms. Shannon should be welcomed into that exclusive pantheon with hurrahs and open arms."--Christopher Fowler

"Reading Lorelei Shannon I thought: here is talent. Both unsettling and sensitive, fear-inducing and courageous, these stories show an emerging gift. The dawn of a real writer."--John Shirley

"...hard-edged, unforgiving, and absolutely mesmerizing. Shannon has a talent that is remarkable, matter-of-fact. Her visions are disturbing and thrilling.... Honestly, it doesn't get much better than this!"--Elizabeth Massie

"There's dark poetry and dark humor aplenty in these Grand Guignol tales of grim retribution and Southern Gothic ... but, as Lorelei Shannon herself might advise, just strip away the flesh and you'll always find a warm heart beating."--Peter Crowther

"Lorelei Shannon is on a perilous journey, one that has already taken her to some of the darkest places in the human soul ... but apparently flinching is not in her nature. She is either brave or reckless, depending on your point of view; probably both ... for my part, I wish her strength and Godspeed."--Dennis Etchison

"Lorelei Shannon is a writer of wonder (the good old-fashioned Ray Bradbury kind) and wit. The latter quality is kind of like Elvis Presley's sneer--when it flashes, you're never quite sure whether you should laugh or break out in a cold sweat of terror. Read Vermifuge and Other Toxic Cocktails and you'll do plenty of both. This book's a keeper."--Norman Partridge

"Get set for a wild ride into the wickedly wonderful Mondo World of Lorelei Shannon. Burn rubber through the Route 66 of this born-and-bred Arizona writer's imagination and tour roadside America as you've never seen it: a night-time world where crazed critters, mortuary misfits, hellacious hillbillies, and motorcycle-riding punk rock riot dolls rule the roada; where the secrets of another universe glow in the eyes of a highway Virgin Mary; and where only a pack of kick-ass Brownies can save the world from total destruction. Shannon's unflinching narrative style, twisted humor, skewed perceptions and touching tales of humanity in its darkest hours make her a writer to watch--or to watch out for."--Tia V. Travis

WELL, BILLY JAMES, the whole thing started about four months ago. Earl and me had just read in the paper how--are you sittin' comfortably, Billy James? That's good, we take pride in our hospitality. Anyhow, we was sittin' at the breakfast table, and Earl had just finished his salt pork and eggs, when he spits coffee all over the newspaper. I says, "Earl, what on earth has possessed you to do such a disgustin' thing. And on a Sunday, too!" And he just looks at me with these grim eyes, and holds up the newspaper.

There it was, just as big as life and twice as ugly. Jerry Sparkle, our most favorite Elvis imitator in the whole wide world, had got hisself murdered. Oh, it was a shocking thing. They found him split open like a spring lamb. His insides was out, and outsides was in none too pretty shape neither. It was purely horrible.

Needless to say, we was both heartbroken. We barely had the get-up to drive ourselves here, but somehow we managed. Billy James, you know the Elvis Is Our King Boutique is our very lives. But we barely managed to open up this place of beauty on that terrible morning. We was both slumped behind the counter, limp as chickens on a hot day. We put on the King's Moody Blue record, on account of us bein' so blue ourselves. Also, we thought it was kinda respectful.

When Millie June come in to see if we'd gotten in her Hound Dog salt-and-pepper shakers yet--oh, they're so cute, Billy James, they got little bouffant hairdos just like the King himself! Anyhow, she come in to see, and normally we woulda been thrilled to death. We woulda put Hound Dog on the record machine and hidden them shakers under one of these official Elvis wigs for her to find, like an Easter egg hunt. But we was so dejected that we just plopped 'em on the counter like they was hamburger patties.

Millie June knew right off there was something wrong. Earl just looked at her with those big, sad eyes of his, and held up the newspaper. Well, she started a-squeakin' and a-gaspin'. We had to give her smellin' salts and a belt a' Southern Comfort.

When she could breathe, Millie June started cryin'. "Oh Earl, oh Effie," she was moanin'. "It's terrible. Just terrible. A cryin' shame." And cryin' she was. It was a regular flood. It got me and Earl goin' all over again, there we was, all wailin' away and clutchin' that soggy newspaper to our bosoms.

Right about then, Millie June gave a big snort. "And to think," she says, "That I had come here not only for my Hound Dog salt-and-pepper shakers, but to tell you that Bob Aaron King is comin' to the Celebrity Theatre this Friday."

"Bob Aaron King!" We both hollered. Now, I know he wasn't nigh as good as Jerry Sparkle, but he was a pretty fair Elvis imitator anyhow. That cheered us up a bit.

But all of a sudden, Earl got this terrible scowl on his face. "Mille June," he says, "How come we didn't hear about this before? This is awful sudden notice."

Well, Mille June looked all perplexed. Pretty soon, she comes out with, "I don't rightly know, Earl. They just announced it today, all sudden-like."

Now, Billy James, you know Earl is a mighty smart feller. So he gets that look like he gets when he's thinkin' real hard. You know, with his forehead all scrunched up, and makin' those little grunts and all. Me and Millie June just sat back and watched, respectful-like.

After awhile, Earl says, "Maybe...maybe, someone's been killin' other Elvis imitators, you know, in the Big City. Maybe Bob Aaron King was afraid to publicize hisself."

Me and Millie gasped, all horrified, but to tell you the truth, we shouldn'ta been surprised. All sorts of things happen in the Big City. Phoenix is a terrible place, Billy James. Anyhow, we don't hear much about what goes on there, 'cause we only get the Tuba City Star, not any fancy papers like the Mesa Tribune.

So, we all thought about it real good, but we decided to go see Bob Aaron King anyway. Us and Millie June said our goodbyes, and Earl and me went back to tendin' the shop and mournin'.

The next day we wasn't near over the shock, but Earl decided to do some detective snoopin'. He drove across town to his cousin Freddy Jack's house, and spent the whole day lookin' through his back issues of the Phoenix Gazette. That meant I had to watch the Boutique myself, but I didn't really mind. Besides, I was expectin' a shipment of official Elvis towels, monogrammed with E. A. P. and scented like the King's own sweat. I was pretty excited.

By the end of the day, though, I had gotten pretty cranky. My shipment didn't come, and Earl was late. He finally walked through the door, and I was about to scold him somethin' fierce, but then I saw the look on his face. I was stopped short like a pole-axed puma.

"I was right," he says, his eyes all wild and bulgy like Billy Graham's. "I was right. There has been two other Elvises killed. Butchered like pigs, Effie."

Well, I darn near fainted. It seemed that one Elvis was found dead in the back room of the Velvet Pelvis lounge right after his act, and the other was spread all over the back seat of his pink '58 Cadillac. All me and Earl could do was sit and shake our heads awhile. We had always planned to go to the Velvet Pelvis someday, and now our dream was soiled.