Odd

So this friend of mine, David, he doesn't want a copy of Sarge and the Sailor Boy. Guess what he brings over with a cheese and ham? An old erotic paperback going way back. Yellow pages, ads, really awful story. He won't take a signed copy of my book but thinks I would want something he found in his garage cleaning. He said he has a box of them.

His asshole as been more places than a pedophile priest has been transferred. He wanted to marry an actual street prostitute at one time who was using two cell phones to line up business, one of the phones was David's, while David sat there smiling.

I'll never forget it, "Oh Mike, he's a really nice guy and I would appreciate if you invited him over for brunch." There he is, dick hanging half way to the knees and booking for later while lattes and parfaits are being served.

Of course, all eyes were on the hustler. He loved it.

And guess what my long time friend didn't like about the book? They spit into each other mouths. Oh gee, how terrible when David was shoving crystal meth up his ass and sucking on a ten inch dick for three days. I would call him and this gravel voice would croak out a "Hello,"

"What ya been doin' Dave, suckin' dick for the weekend?"

"I've got a sore throat."


"Really? I thought you were gargling with gravel."

I don't get it and on top of that, I get this really great e-mail from some guy that really liked the story, said it as the hottest thing he read in years and is there a sequel and what other books do I have out.

I think you can legally set fire to friends like that. I mean, what jury would convict a long time friend that was insulted in such a way. I know in Afghanistan he would certainly have his nuts chopped off for such an offense. He's lucky he lives here where I have to worry about lawsuits if he should survive the fire.