Am I bad at public relations, or just antisocial? Are these two qualities necessarily binary opposites, even in writers? Could an hour of nineties house music solve my problem? Can you write crime stories while blasting Ace of Base loudly enough to piss off your neighbors who still claim they never liked that stuff?
To quote the Rock, it doesn't matter. What does matter, babycakes, is that I've been in two out of the last three issues of Heater, and you know that rules like a stab wound from a switchblade cast in cotton candy. Here's half a cigarette so you can cauterize yourself a little at a time, tough guy.
"Roger Dodger" is a little flightier than my usual stuff, in that I'm working with archetypes I've never personally encountered. (I wonder if Hemingway ever met "The Killers?" I hope not, with all love to Lee Marvin.) It has a more manic, B-movie energy than "The Champ," and I like it more. A college professor enlists his father, a professional hitman, to help him track down his girlfriend, who's been kidnapped by her mercenary ex-husband. Also, there's a drooling giant with a baseball bat. Road trip! You can get it at Fiction Magazines, Amazon, and Barnes & Noble.
"Hero, Hero" has nothing to do with Judas Priest, and everything to do with bad men, wicked women, and food trucks. Just when he thinks he's got it made, a food truck operator must rescue his girl from the clutches of the evil, rotund owner of Gypsy Land, home of great food and missing persons. Problem is, she may not want to be rescued. Enjoy the chaos magic stuff... just don't try to do any yourself. Like the others, you can get it at FM, the 'zon, and the online big box.
And if you really want to show your love, babe (shoooooow yooooooour love, ow), you can go way back (as we go a little somethin' like this, hit it) and get "The Champ," at FM, 'zonnyboy, and the other one.
That's all for now, untrue disbelievers. Get some sun, hit the weights hard, and try not to stare too long at that Stephanie McMahon bikini pic, you friggin' weirdo.