Notes on the Barbed Wire Invitational
Some books that will soon be published under my name and a sample from each:
Georgia Frank: Portrait of a Boxer
This is my boxing novel
Chapter 34
We were fighting again. It was me in the white corner and the Indian in the red. This was because I was white and he was…less white. It seemed like a sound thing to do.
Look, I'm sensitive to other races. OK. OK. I used the word Indian. Sue me! We all know what we're talking about when I say Indian. If it was the other Indians, I would have said East Indian.
OK, sure I said the "other" Indians, like it's a commercial for pork products. I'm sorry. But, you know what I mean. K, I'm not changing it. No way. This is how I write – accept it.
So, moving right along.
The Indian in the red corner was angry. He was full of rage because I had called him an Indian.
In fact, I use the word "corner" loosely. At the McDonald's me and Paul were at it was more like sides of the table.
Oh, plus we weren't boxers.
The Arrow and the Saber
This is my fantasy novel
Chapter 38
"It's a wide world, son. You must move on and find your way in it. But, first, you must complete your mission. Maybe on the way you'll meet some people and do some things and maybe you'll be thinking that you're finding your way. But, you're not. Trust me. I've went on that mission before and the most you're gonna find is a case of the clap and that fucking Leprechaun who writes bad checks, or his talking Buffalo that does these shitty impressions. Like You're just jealous, Napoleon because I've been chatting with babes all day on the internet. It's fucking annoying. And he doesn't even get the quotes right. Then, you'll laugh because you'll be trying to be nice to the talking buffalo, but that just makes him do it more. Finally, you'll just say SHUT THE FUCK UP. Then, the talking buffalo gets all mad and doesn't want to help you find your arrow and saber and "
Foundation of the Golden Circle
This is my spy novel
Chapter 82
Dr. Scott opened the door and found Malcolm and Laurie laying dead on the steel floor of his lab.
"Sir, the problem has been taken care of." Scott whispered into his wrist.
From the device in his ear he heard Colonel Leonard seductively say "Continue on."
Scott wrapped the bodies in butcher paper and called Mary. She was a pro at body disposal and would be by shortly.
In the meantime, Scott fixed himself a drink and thought about what the Colonel had told him earlier.
"Doc, I'm a spy." Said the Colonel.
Scott thought about it. He let it roll around in his mind and bleed into his head. He had always figured the Colonel as an eccentric. For one thing, he called himself a Colonel, but he was fifteen years old and worked at Burger King.
But, it was all a front wasn't it? Because, the Colonel was a spy.
The Bush Regime: Lies and Slander
This is my rightwing blast at liberals
Chapter 1
Thank you for buying my book, The Bush Regime: Lies and Slander.
This book couldn't have been written without the help of my lovely wife, Margaret.
I guess, maybe some of you may be wondering how Margaret is doing. Well, Margaret is dead.
Yes, it's true. She just died of multiple injuries to the head. So, keep this in mind when you read my book: You may not agree with me, but you probably should because my wife is dead.
Yeah, she's a goner. Anyway, enjoy!
The Sewers Ran with Blood…Desert Blood
This is my horror novel
Chapter 46
Storm drains and sewers clogged thick with blood.
It was a Thursday. It was 1999. It was a bad day to be an ice cream man.
Not that I was an ice cream man, but there was a serial killer about that was plugging ice cream men. Years later, we'd find out it was one Jonathan Bradley and an ice cream man had done "stuff" with his sister.
But, back to the sewers. They had nothing to do with Jonathan or the ice cream man or Thursday. They were filling up with blood for no apparent reason. Even nine dead ice cream men couldn't fill a sewer full of blood. I don't even think the current month's Iraq dead could manage that job.
Sewers are long stretches of underground pipes and tunnels and are made to take the runoff from twelve-day storms.
That's why everyone was surprised to the sewers of East Green filled with blood.
It just happened to be a Thursday that I noticed it. I was walking home from work and I was kicking a stone, when it splashed into a puddle of blood. I followed the blood with my eyes and it lead to a…you get the idea.
The strangest thing was, by the next day the blood was gone. Totally, no trace.
Nothing.
The ice cream killer was eventually caught, but to this day, no one knows why the sewers in East Green were running amok with blood.
No one, but me.
Ha! Bet you didn't see that one coming.
And here's the punch line: I'm not going to tell.
No way, man. I know what you were thinking: he's got a long story about how he off'd a bunch of people, or one about how he cursed the town, or how the blood was his own blood and that the city was a part of him.
Nope. Nope. Nope.
None of those are the correct reasons why my town ran with blood back in 1999.
I guess I could get all Stephen King on you, and tell a long story about how a pelican/man from another dimension killed hundreds of mutant midgets that were living under the city for 100s of years. But, no. I refuse.
No one is paying me jack to write, so why finish the story.
"But, Matt, is it true? Did you really live in a town that was choked with blood for a day?"
Not telling. No way. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. How do you like them apples?
I guess I could to tell you about the old woman who lived in the house up the road and how she just so happened to be the mother of the ice cream man, and that…
But, I've given away too much.
Look, to be quite honest, I enjoy holding this from you. I figure, if you've read this far, then you're probably thinking at some point I'll slip up and explain that the old woman who lived in the house up the road from where the first ice cream man was killed, her son, was known for her talents with deblooding people.
That's right – deblooding. It's a word. Google it with quotes. It's out there, baby.
But, enough about the old witch who…yes, she was a witch too. I guess I'm just gonna have to tell you the whole story.
No way, champ!
No story for you. There's no way I'm going to explain how the old witch swore she would exact revenge on the whole town for not finding the murderer of her ice cream man son.
Damn.
Well. K, that may have been the case. But, that still doesn't explain all the blood. I mean, how does an entire sewer system run with blood? Unless, it had rained a bunch and the old witch was really just insane and she bought all this food coloring and…
Fuck. K, fine. There's the story. Old insane lady's son gets killed and she gets revenge in her insane way by putting red food coloring in the sewer system after a major storm making it look like the sewers were clogged with blood.
But, I never mentioned whether she got away with it. Or, how I was involved. Or, why I'm only deciding to write about it now. Or, what I've been doing since then.
Look, here's the bottom line: there's a bunch of stuff I could tell you that would blow your mind, but I choose not to – that is the nature of my storytelling.
The Diary of Anne Frank
This is my erotic book
Chapter 56
Anne pulled the covers off the bed to reveal the head of the cheerleading squad. She had stopped over to try on the new dress and had spilled
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