Despite pleas from fans and publishers not to do so, horror novelist Stephen King has decided to go ahead with his vuvuzela horror novel. King, often thought to have exhausted all possible avenues of horror in his numerous works, having a car, cell phone, futuristic numbermunchers, obsessive fans, Kiefer Sutherland, Red Sox relievers and various other oddities be the subject of his books, decided to make the South African soccer horn the topic of his new book after viewing the World Cup final at his home in New England.

“There’s something mesmerizingly terrible about the vuvuzela,” King noted in his interview with a local paper. “If you have surround sound in your home, you can really experience its horror firsthand. It’s like having a party in your head all the time, except you can never leave and everyone sucks at the party.”

Despite the controversial subject matter, experts still predict the book to sell well based on King’s reputation. The audio book however is not expected to be in high demand, as readers fear it will be nine hours of vuvuzela noises.

King has already released a passage of the book on his website in an attempt to give fans a sneak peak of what is to come:

A shiver ran up Gamble’s spine, sending shocks of paralyzing fear through his limbs. The longshoreman tried to move his feet, but they were cemented to the ground; unmovable pillars of stone that had latched to his torso. He gasped loudly and clutched at his thigh, trying to will his extremities into motion.

Bwa!

Gamble turned and listened to the single note pass through the shipyard, carrying on the stark breeze. The unmistakable call of the vuvuzela. He thrust his hand into his pocket, his fingers shaking as he tried to extract his phone.

Bwa!

The call was closer now. He didn’t have much time.

He raised the cellphone to his ear, the antenna rattling against his temple like a thumping heartbeat. An involuntary jerk sent his hand forward, hurtling the device into the distance. The phone shattered into a thousand pieces on the sullied concrete. Behind him, Gamble heard the intake of air. He turned. “Please! I didn’t tell them anything!” he screamed into the darkness.

Bwa, bwa, bwa, bwa, bwa, bwa, bwa!

White light and sound ripped through his brain as he collapsed to his knees, blood streaming from his ears.

“Please! No!”

But it was too late. The vuvuzela had selected its victim, and there would be no escape.

Bwa, bwa, bwa, bwa, bwa, bwa, bwa!