An Excerpt from “Dead Guy Avenue,” My Hardboiled Detective Novel Where the Narrator Can’t Really Remember What Happened
Wait, no, maybe it was his wife who killed his business partner? I don’t know-- someone died, is the gist of it.
Wait, no, maybe it was his wife who killed his business partner? I don’t know-- someone died, is the gist of it.
Danish Castle with Sea View: Currently not under threat of invasion from Norway!
Every non-union job listing, for companies like BoatSwatch, Amalgamated Hunter, and A.I. Wurxs.
“The ABCs” isn’t even a good name. I don’t really see the draw.
For the shoes had been created in a supernova by the malevolent god Aernus, and radiated a power that could be worn by no man, let alone a child.
Some write to live out a fantasy that they were never granted: revenge on Frankie Wick, who pantsed them in Ms. Dakota’s class in the 9th grade.
Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet are celebrating their Connection Anniversary at The Capulet Family Tomb.
Between work and the kids, I’m as busy as George Santos if he had actually done all that stuff he said he’d done.
There’s not a lot of room to be coy. As short humor dogma goes, "Lead us into temptation, and deliver us the premise."
Sorry, say that again? Your boys were doing what? They were “hopping” on you?
I don’t take edits: Hey, you’re a fan of mine. Isn’t this the kind of audacity that drew you to my work in the first place?
I blew my advance on a fully-loaded Bugatti Veyron Linea Viviere (MSRP $2.3 million), as well as a series of bespoke leather shirts.