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!
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.
