Edward Lee meets Clive Barker…
Gord is getting married to a woman he recently met, named Venus Baer. His best friend, Chris, is invited to be the best man. The bride-to-be is incredibly sexy, manipulative, and evil.
Chris and Gord realize something is horribly wrong with the Baer family and soon find out escaping the family is going to be one hell of a task. The huge family stretches around the world making a clean getaway an impossibility. But that's just what Gord, Chris and Gord's sister, Elizabeth, are going to try and do.
The Bride Stripped Bare takes the backwood freaks of classic Edward Lee books and slams them together with Clive Barker and his Nightbreed world.
Lots of blood, drugs, sex, and violence make this a perfect addition to the Necro family. New blood extreme horror ready to take you on a drug-crazed, chaotic race against evil.
Find out what happens when the bride is stripped bare.
- 1 To Be Read list
I got an email out of the blue from my old buddy, Gord, telling me he was getting married. I hadn’t heard from him for about five years, didn’t think he would still have my email. We were still friends, didn’t hate each other, just drifted apart. I had finished my Masters and became an English professor for a small college no one had ever heard of, and which paid shit. But it was better than working at a real job.
Gord was blue collar, an auto mechanic, drank a two-four every weekend and a six-pack every night after work. I drank wine and sometimes liked it. He and I were poles apart, but that wouldn’t come between us. Friends were friends, no matter how far apart they were in character.
Or where they lived, for that matter. Gord had moved across the country to Washington State. Said he loved the redwoods, the Douglas Firs, that he had started hiking and camping. Back and forth emails told me how much he had changed.READ MORE
And, goddamn, he was getting married! Thought he always liked girls too much to settle for just one. One email said the bride-to-be was amazing, gorgeous, great in bed, “fucking rich, too, buddy,” and the two of them had too many things in common to count. He attached a few pictures of them somewhere tropical. Laughing, swimming, sitting by the pool, standing arm in arm on a beach, sunset behind them. Tourist photos, romantic and sappy. Had they already gone on their honeymoon? I wondered.
She was hot, I’ll give him that. She looked like a 1920s flapper with black hair cut into a bob, with a skinny body, hint of ribs, even a string of small pearls wrapped three times around her slender neck, hanging down between her ample breasts. D cup, minimum. She must’ve been a bit of a freak. Who wears pearls with a bikini? A Wicked Weasel at that. Heavenly camel toe and not a trace of razor burn.
Gord was sending this to me to make me jealous. And I was. Lucky bastard. I had the pick of some of the ugliest women, students and teachers, at a third-rate college. The kind losers went out with…like me.
I’ll admit, I was jealous of Gord’s life in more ways than one. I was an egghead who had spent his life reading boring books, giving boring lectures, talking to boring people, having boring sex. Gord made more money than me, didn’t take his job home, relaxed on weekends instead of marking papers, went to bars, and slept with women who had never heard of Franz Kafka. I slept with women who looked like Franz Kafka.
I was happy for Gord to be getting married, and happy for myself to go on vacation, away from my East Coast, buttoned-down, cardigan life. I couldn’t wait to get on a plane to see my old best friend and his new bride-to-be.
They looked so happy in the photographs.
Her name was Venus Baer.