Slim Pickens Does the Right Thing and Rides the Bomb to Hell release and the first chapter of my new book Tall

Boy am I ever excited! My book about a guy with Asperger's who discovered a town full of alien Republicans is finally done and available for a limited time as a free ebook!

Get it hea!

And here's the cover for said ebook as well as the backside!

And here is an excerpt from my new novel coming in a few months!

It's called Tall. It's about a snotty good looking rich kid who's life just shits on him.

Tall

By: David McGhee

Chapter 1

“I have AIDS.” Damian said as he puffed on his cigarette. He blew two smoke circles that grew in the air and dissipated into nothingness.
Rusty shot up where he lay on his mattress with not box spring; it lay on the hard wood floor, making the jolt hurt Rusty's boney butt. “What?”

“I have AIDS.” Damian said with a smile. He took another drag on his cigarette and blew it in Rusty's face. “So we're gonna fuck forever right?” He gave Rusty a quick kiss on the forehead, Rusty pushed him away violently. Damian fell back into the bed and put his hands around his head.

Rusty felt all the blood drain from his face. “You killed me.” He said in disbelief. “You fucking killed me...” He felt around his bottom. Damian's stuff was still leaking out of him. Why, oh why, didn't he use a condom? He never had to use them with chicks before. Usually he'd just cum in their twat and Dad would pay for the abortion.

“I didn't kill you.” Damian said condescendingly as he took another drag. “It's plenty manageable with medications, diet, and exercise.” He ashed his Marlboro on Rusty's night stand. Burning a hole into the hard stained oak. “You could use some more muscle sweetie.”

Rusty couldn't speak. A terrible hairball of “what the fuck!?” was stuck in his throat. White hot rage blinded his field of vision. His mind was more barren than usual. Usually he thinks about hot chicks and fucking hot chicks and eating hot chicks out and fucking hot chicks. What was he going to do now? He couldn't have sex now. This guy took away his identity. How can you be a straight man when you got AIDS? Despite the myth, AIDS amongst heterosexual American males is really quite low, minding you that they're not using intravenous drugs, which raises your chances by a gazillion. But Rusty had never done anything stronger than pot. He didn't even drink alcohol for Christ's sake! He ate healthy and worked out an hour a day, cardio with some weight lifting. How could he, the model of virility and health, have the most feared disease on the planet?

That is aside from that virus that makes you shit and vomit yourself uncontrollably until you die from it.

“You ruined my life...” Rusty said, sitting naked in his bed. He felt around his newly widened asshole. Damian hooted. “I'm going to kill you.” He said with a straight face and all seriousness. “I'm going to kill you and it would be justified homicide.”

Damian shook his head and lit another cigarette. He smiled. “No such thing unless your life is in direct danger. Trust me honey, gay rights have come a long way and you'll be very well known amongst the gay community who killed poor old Damian Counter.” He squished his lips and made a kissing sound. Rusty stood up and immediately got light headed as his blood pressure went dangerously low. He saw white envelope his world and then he woke up on the bed. His back and head hurt because it was just a flimsy mattress.

“I pass out?” Rusty asked.

Damian took a smoke from his cigarette and groaned “Awe.” He put his free hand on Rusty's head and massaged it. “Poor baby.” Then he blew a puff of cigarette smoke into Rusty's face.

Rusty decided then and there to kill him. He turned around with great swiftness and plunged for the fucker. But Damian moved quickly and Rusty found himself hitting the wall. He felt his knuckles buckle and crack. He was in immense pain.

Damian sat back and was alarmed. “What on Earth are you doing?” He asked sardonically.

Rusty shrugged his broad shoulders to get the kinks out and popped his neck. Then he said “I told you. I'm going to kill you.” Rusty then straightened himself out and did a few jumping jacks.

“Think about it first.” Damian said as he shielded himself from the oncoming blow. Rusty stopped before he hit him. He felt a wave of nausea flow through his muscles and stomach as the memory of the Buster kid. He couldn't hurt this man. No matter how much he hurt him. He remembered the time spent in Juvy. It would be like that. Only with much bigger guys and he wouldn't be slapped on the wrist again. He was an adult now and that would be a class A one felony on his part. Damn legal system! Always keeping him down. He would just call the cops instead.

He sort of walked / ran to his phone that lay inside his pants pocket, which was thrown across the room in a fit of lust. Oh dear God why did he have to take that chance and have that experience with another dude. He was a vagina man and should have never strayed. He found his phone and in a moment of rage smashed it on his forehead. It didn't crack (thank God) but it did dial his mother. He disconnected the call and dialed “9-1-1”

“Whatcha doing sweet thing?” Damian asked nonchalantly as he blew another ring of smoke out.

“Calling the cops on your fagot ass!” Rusty shouted.

Damian said “Tisk tisk tisk.” He shook his head. “You have no idea what gift I just bestowed on you.”

“Fucker!” He shouted as the operator picked up.

“Excuse me sir?” The female operator, probably black or a white girl with heavy emphasis on the ebonic tongue. She said it in a very irate way. Indicating that she did not like the implications of being called a fucker.

“No, not you.” Rusty said in a hurry. “I need to report a crime.”

“What would be the nature of this crime sir?”

It was then that Damian shouted “No! No! Don't hit me!”

Rusty put his hand over the phone's receiver. “Will you stop that!”

“What's going on sir?” She asked, a little more alert this time.

“I've been...” Rusty was cut off with Damian's cries for help.

“Please send somebody!” Damian shrieked with terror. “He's got a knife! Oh God, he's got a knife!”

“Sir I'm sending somebody over to your address.” She said in a frightened but normal tone of voice, almost as if she forgot to act like a rapper. “Please sir. Put down the knife! It's not worth it!”

“I don't have a knife!” Rusty shouted as he did a face palm.

“Please! Oh God! Now he's got a picture frame!” Damian got up casually walked toward Rusty's dresser. First he straightened his golden terry cloth robe the he took one of the picture frames that sat atop the dresser and hucked it across the room. Where it shattered near his 60” HD flat screen. It was a picture of the first girl he ever nailed, back when he hit a growth spurt and stopped being a dork. He remembered when he went from five five to almost six, six over night. Suddenly girls wanted to be with him. It was the best thing ever and he pitied short people. Because in all reality people treat a tall man differently than a short man. A tall man commands more respect and is seen as the dominate figure in a room. Why a man of his stature and attractiveness could cum on the face of any young girl he wanted to. This girl in the picture though. She was the result of hormones driven to the brink of thermonuclear explosion and a pack of condoms he got from Walgreens. When he brought them home and tried to seduce her he found out, seven bucks later, that they were too small for him. The girl, apparently never had been with a man either at that point and didn't really know whether or not his size was normal, complimented him on what would be the tool she would from that day forward forever compare every other guy too. But he was still embarrassed of it in that way that all young men are before they've had the privilege of getting naked in front of another person with regularity. It was hard and when she touched it he nearly came. He calmed down a little and drove back to the store, a recent gift for turning sixteen had been a brand new car and a license to drive said car. He found out that, despite the condoms not fitting correctly, he could not get a refund. Apparently you cannot return a used condom. So he spanged for the extra four dollars from passerbys outside and within twenty minutes he had the condoms and the girl. The entirety of a minute's worth of humping, grunting, and elbows being rammed into stomachs, resulted in a quick dismissal of bodily fluids. When he took the condom off she wanted to see it. She had never seen male seed before. It was quite a load. She mentioned that that would have been hell to clean out if he had not worn it. Especially with it being planted eight inches inside her.

He thought of the girl he had lost it too and felt an awful sadness. How was he going to get laid again now? Sure he could wear a condom but what girl would want to take that chance? He knew he wouldn't if it was him. Oh God, what has this man done to him?

“Sir!” The operator broke his trance. “Please stop throwing things! Please settle down! We are here to help you!”

“What?” Rusty said, exasperated. “I'm not throwing things! This crazy bastard is the one throwing things!”

“Sir please!”

Damian pulled out a pocket knife and cut along the dermis of the back of his hand, purposely missing the veins. “He just cut me!”

“Stop that!” Rusty screamed. He had tears welling up in his eyes. Then they heard knocking at the door.

“Police! Let us in!” A bellowing voice said behind two inches of door.

“Please!” Damian cried. “This monster is attacking me!” Then he walked calmly over to Rusty's coffee table, picked up his hot punk glass vase, the one his third girlfriend gave him, and threw it just iches from Rusty's head. He artfully dodge it and it smacked into the white wall behind him, smashing into approximately one hundred and four pieces.

“What the fuck are you doing!?” Rusty shouted.

There was more knocking. Rusty ran to the door and unlocked it. He lived in a loft downtown that had six units. He could hear people talking next door. One lady, in a light green terry cloth robe with short dark brown hair and green eyes, peered out her door at the three men standing at Rusty's door way. In Denver it was customary to send two policemen on all calls. Regardless of the nature of reported act of criminal nature.

Nature... N.A.T.U.R.E.

Just rolls off the tongue don't it?

Rusty stood in front of the two men and it was then that he realized he was naked. The two cops stood there stunned at what they saw. One man seemed to have anger on his face. “Would you please put some pants on boy!” The Hispanic one said. The taller white cop had a pudgy face. Rusty disliked him immediately because fat people aren't to be trusted. Rusty nodded and went to the other side of the room and pulled on some boxers. The policemen followed him in and saw a small slender man of varied ethnicity sitting in bed, clothed in his golden terry cloth robe, looking terrified with an open gash on the top side of his palm.

“Please help me sir!” Damian pleaded. “He cut me!”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa now!” Rusty stuttered. “He cut him himself! Check the prints on the knife!”

“This is a domestic disturbance and you sir are under arrest!” The Hispanic cop, no doubt feeding off of the authority the five foot five man got from wielding a badge. A Napoleon complex for sure. Rusty hated those kinds of guys. Why couldn't they just accept that they're short and no one will ever love them? He let the policeman take him by the wrists, he swung him around and cuffed his hands behind his back.

“Check the knife!” Rusty shouted, not believing the absurdity of it all, started laughing.

“You'll be laughing all the way to jail you fucking dingle-berry!” The taller white cop said. His name tag said “Rodriguez.” The Hispanic cop's last name was “Kerry.” Named from what ever odd mismatch of family history they had. Officer Kerry pulled Rusty from the room and walked him down the hall to the elevator. Rusty was in a daze where everything he saw had a white and green aura to it. He was sure he was going to faint again but did everything he could not to. He started breathing deep, oxygenating breaths and slowed his pace. Officer Kerry tugged at him harder and Rusty got up to speed. Kerry pressed the elevator button and they waited at the elevator entrance.

“He gave me AIDS.” Rusty said, not believing in the words that were coming out of his mouth.

Kerry took his hands off of Rusty, visibly disgusted, and rummaged his pocket for some latex gloves. He put them on. “No reason to knife the guy.” He said with fear in his voice. “You can probably get off with probation.”

“That's the thing.” Rusty said with a sigh. “He did it himself.”

“Have you touched the knife?”

“No.” Rusty said with relief. “He pulled it out of his pocket.”

“Well the crime lab will tell us more.” The bell rung and the elevator opened.

“Wait.” Rusty stopped. “Why am I going to jail?”

“If you're so innocent then you have nothing to worry about.” Kerry said stoically and without emotion.

“Hey wait! I'm innocent!” Rusty shouted.

“Are you resisting arrest son?” Kerry tightened his hold on Rusty's cuffed hands.

“But I didn't do anything!”

“I've seen your type. Always was the big kid in school and you picked on kids much smaller than you.” Kerry said with a snarl. “I eat rancid dingle-berries like you for breakfast, lunch, and if I'm doing a night shift, dinner.”

Rusty stared at Kerry for the longest time. “Why does everything with you involve poop hanging off of ass hair?”

Rusty stayed back but was shoved by the officer. “I didn't beat you up in high school! Stop projecting onto me!” The officer tugged at him some more and finally Rusty willingly went with him into the cold elevator. Rusty's bare size thirteen feet were frigid and chilling to the touch. He suddenly had a spark of inspiration, He said “I want a lawyer.”

The elevator closed with the sound of a grown redheaded man weeping.