The Book
There are probably multiple reasons you are here, and hopefully one of those is to buy my book. I am a poor, starving artist trying to make it in this cold, cruel world, so help a man/woman/marmot out. Also, this book will offend you, and if you haven’t gathered that already, you might want to fuck off now because I don’t think you are ready to read this book. Find the links below. But also, just in case you still aren’t sure if you should read this book, check out the synopsis first.
Buy the Book
The Synopsis
A gay man and a black woman meet in the woods outside Leadville, Colorado. Well, they don’t really meet. They run into each other when the gay man (Quincy) is running from the cult of Tree Tree McForest Face and the black woman (Maya) is running away from two QAnon conspiracy theorists who have just dissected their friend in an attempt to find evidence of a deep-state plot to weaponize gayness to reverse global warming. A pursuit through the Colorado mountain towns of Leadville, Aspen, and Glenwood Springs ensues. Crazy shit happens. Lots of sex is attempted. Some sex is had. Some people die. Some nearly die. And a lot of people don’t die. Social things are explored. Tasteless jokes are made. Tasteful jokes are never even thought of being made. And the book ends.
The Excerpt
He wasn’t dead. At least he didn’t feel dead. He imagined death would feel less terrible than an excruciating headache and itchy limbs. He didn’t know where the headache had come from, but he remembered falling into the stream. That would explain the itchy limbs. He was warming up. But how had he gotten to a place where warming up was possible? Perhaps he had crawled from the stream and didn’t remember. Perhaps someone had found him. The first step to figuring out the mystery would be to open his eyes, which he hadn’t yet done, too afraid at first because if he was dead, he didn’t want to see where he had ended up. But now that he was pretty sure he wasn’t dead, he decided it was safe.
Immediately he wished he had kept them closed. There were two things Quincy hated above all others: when people watched him sleep and when a large group of people all wore the same clothes. For the latter rule, Quincy made an exception for those who wore uniforms for work, but what he saw didn’t look like work; he was almost positive about that.
It was definitely a bed Quincy was on, for it was softer than any cot should be and larger by far. And the view that he had of the ceiling told him he was in a yurt. He had to make this judgment based solely on the ceiling because the two things he hated were blocking his view of the walls. All around his bed, standing shoulder to shoulder, were twelve people, alternating man, woman, man, woman. They were all smiling with their teeth on full display. Their eyes were wide open, unblinking. Literally unblinking. Quincy watched them all and blinked rapidly himself because their unblinkingness caused his eyes so much discomfort. And each one wore an ankle-length white robe. He could see the nipples of all the people around him through the sheer fabric they wore, and he guessed the flap or door of the tent was open and in which direction it was located because the sun coming through the flap or door silhouetted the full figures of the man and woman at the foot of his bed, revealing more than he’d asked to see. It was like he was Frodo Teabaggins in some pornographic Rivendell.
In his state of confusion, Quincy wasn’t quite sure what to say. They had to have known their nipples were showing, surely, and he guessed that if they were all outside in direct sunlight he would see as much of all of them as he was seeing of the two people directly in front of him, maybe more. And if it was raining, well. It would be nothing but a wet t-shirt contest free-for-all, boobs and balls galore. Quincy felt he should say something if for no other reason than to break the silence and perhaps get one of them to blink.
“I can see your nipples,” he said to the woman nearest him.
The Reviews
“It’s not what I typically like to read, but you’re my child, so I will finish reading it.” -Mom
“I read the first chapter. What the hell is this?” -Dad
“Weird.” -Jonathan Felsom, Native Coloradan
“You said you would pay me $15 if I read this. I read it. It’s stupid.” – Victoria Bricktripper, Woman of Colfax
“I guess you can call it a book.” -Barbara Morten, Librarian
“A Tour de France. An Arc de Triomph.” -Skidz, Trashcan Resident
“If two fetuses fused in the womb and were born with two assholes and no heads, you would have a good indication of what this book is like.” -Cindy Milton, Ex Best Friend
“Too many words. But I like the bad words.” Bobby, 7-year-old neighbor
“Did you write this? If you wrote it, please don’t write anything else. Like, ever.” -Harrison Rumnipple, Lawyer
“Does a superb job of holding many pieces of paper between only two pieces of cardboard.” -Gertrude van de Merwe, Police Dispatcher
“Great gift for your worst enemy.” -Francis Derp, My Worst Enemy
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