I have five published books, wrote for two small tv shows, hosted the comedy hit PEACE AND PIPEDREAMS, playing 14 comedy characters plus... on FEARLESS RADIO. I also consult for the intelligence community in various capacities.
Fuentes Last Hit
"You sit around wondering how you ended up here, and everyone else you grew up with ended out there?" That was doing time for him. Reading letters about lives he could no longer imagine. Tatted up old timer, with enough status to get the best of everything, he did alright. Went in with two murder convictions, for the fam, and even at 15, that gave him a lot of cred. He shakes his head as an image of that night comes to mind, trying to drive the sounds and smells and feelings out of his mind; seventeen and fourteen, and they seemed like men to him back then, warriors. Now they looked like what they were, kids.
Persona Non Grata
"HARFILDOOP, eh? Changing jobs is it, then?" The older man squinted a bit as he looked him over, then smiled kindly and motioned toward the wooden chair in front of his desk. He was wearing the typical office outfit of a tie, shirt, dress pants and shoes.
Thessler, Keeper of Pigs
Thirty nine million two hundred and forty six thousand years before our story takes place, massive shifts in Plate Teutonic's wiped out the last vestiges of Earth's civilization. Long ago forgotten, no one alive knew about a planet called Earth, or the civilization that spawned their species and sent them on great ships out into cold, black space, after they destroyed their original host planet, leaving their once green and blue Eden black and brown, as dead as the sterile vacuum of space that replaced the sweet oxygen of the atmosphere.
She always dressed in faded black jeans with the knees torn out and sleeveless T-shirts emblazoned across the chest with the logos of famous rock bands (who inevitably, mother said, seemed to have the word ‘death’ in their names). Basically, She was a good girl, who did all of the things that good little girls in her land did, like worrying about problem-things. Indeed, on the day that our story takes place, She was very embroiled in a problem-thing. She had just come from a lecture about a problem-thing that was altogether new to her and was having quite a struggle wrapping her thoughts around it. New words were all floating around in her mind, like a bunch of little problem things that she could not make into the very big problem thing that the lecture had actually been about. It was all very confusing, but she was sure that if she concentrated real, real hard, she eventually would understand. And concentrate real hard, she did! Why, she was concentrating so very hard on the problem-thing that when she got home she ran in the front door and right through the living room, moving so fast and thinking so hard that she didn't even notice her family waving at her from their very favorite spots in front of the television. She just ran into her bedroom, slammed the door shut, put on her favorite CD, The Dead Lovers In Potato Crates, pulled out a cigarette, lit up with her unicorn lighter and started smoking furiously—like she always did when things needed thinking about.