Crumbling Asphalt

Sunday, December 29, 2013

In Sequence

Excerpt From My Novel, "The Famous Well-Equipped Twins"

Chapter One

They were standing in front of the old boarded-up church on Bristol Street.

“Gimme a light,” said Kitty, leaning toward Isley, cigarette trembling in the corner of her mouth. Isley snapped a flame from his big silver lighter after three false starts and held it to the tip of her cigarette. His hand was numb and shaking from the cold.

It was one of those bleak November Sundays when everything is dead and the sky is full of sleet and you’re just waiting for the full weight of winter to come down.

“Thanks,” said Kitty.

Peachfuzz was vomiting warm champagne on the granite steps; it hit the stone with a slap, and steam wandered up toward the

streetlight.

“You okay, Peach?” Kitty asked, drawing on her cigarette.

Peachfuzz wiped her lips with the back of her glove.

The Membranous Lounge (Apophenia Edition)

The second edition of The Membranous Lounge is out. Smoother than sandpaper and cleaner than clones!

I like chimps.

You can buy the book here. Please help send my cat to college.
Here's a bit of nonsense...

It was the first time I’d ever heard of a woman getting arrested for being a peeping Tom.

“Who were you spying on?” I asked her.

“This guy next door. I wasn’t trying to see him naked or anything. It wasn’t dirty voyeurism.”

“Then why were you doing it?”

“I just wanted to see if he had any secrets.”

“Did he?”

“Not that I could see.”
THE END

Next Book

Another collection of short stories is in the works, tentative title: Bleak Holiday. Also, a new edition of the Membranous Lounge will be published by Apophenia.

And now, a picture of Vic Tayback:

"Stow it, Alice!"

When I was a kid my friend told me he had two hundred comic books. I went over to his house to check it out. They were all the same issue of Jughead.

Conservatory of Death

A morbid pulp novel:

Conservatory of Death

No, I don't know who that woman is.

Found an old Paas Easter egg coloring kit while cleaning out my kitchen cupboards. I figured, what the hell and spent the day coloring a dozen eggs. It was a lot of work and now I have to make egg salad or something.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

The Membranous Lounge is Here!

Psychedelic monkeys lost in a paisley fog, Mantruth.

My first book is out and you can find it here.

"The pure essence and joy of writing cannot be parsed and analyzed like coleslaw. The vigorous, confident writer must find his or her inspiration from the ordinary things in life. The miraculous boredom one feels among the flowers and trees. The smile of a friend you wish you'd never met." --Hank Kirton from the book, A Writer is Just a Pimp with Herpes.

Weird News Item

NewsButton - Norfolk VA: ROADKILL FORTUNES - In what may prove to be an elaborate hoax, citizens of Norfolk, Virginia have been scouring through the remains of animals killed on I-264, looking for clues to their futures.

Wal-Mart cashier Victoria-Sue Beane, who was among the first to discover a written fortune secreted within the innards of a rotted possum, claims; "It said I'd drink chocolate milk on Tuesday. I didn't, but I THOUGHT about it. It's real uncanny. You can bet I'll be looking for more of them fortunes. I truly believe they were put there by God."

As a matter of public safety, Norfolk Mayor Paul D. Fraim has urged citizens to refrain from loitering on the highway and has stated that flinging small animals under moving cars is an arrestable offense, even if it may "supply answers to your destiny".

The Mayor further stated,"Sticking your hands in a decomposing raccoon, looking for lottery numbers, just ain't common sense. The people of Virginia should know better."

But Mr Randall Fowler, an out-of-work iron smelter, disagrees. "It's an uncertain economy and folks is looking for answers. S**t, I'll dig my hands in the belly of a sun-swollen, maggot-infested woodchuck if I think I might pull out the answer to my prayers. Or if it might tell me who I really am, real down deep like..."

The fortunes appear to have been written on a manual typewriter on torn strips of yellow-lined paper.

So far, police have been unable to trace the origin of the fortunes.

"Whoever is writing these things and sticking them inside dead animals is sick," stated Norfolk police chief Bruce P. Marquis. "And he can't spell worth a damn."

Meanwhile, police have noted an increase in both traffic and pedestrian activity on I-264.

"Until this thing is solved," said Mayor Fraim. "We're gonna have a lot more accidents on the road. And a lot more flat animals. Heck, we're all interested in the future. But frankly, I think this is just sad. Just sad..."

Sunday, November 1, 2009

An Excerpt from a Nonexistent Book Set to the Tune of "Muskrat Love."

As the sole heiress to the Chauncy Perfume Withersmoot fortune, Rebecca Ravendark moves into a Danish castle where she meets a gruff, mysterious but handsome gardener named Blunt Headtrauma. Against her uncle's wishes she begins an erotic, haunting, dark, erotic, erotic odyssey of forbidden, mysterious eroticness. From BESTSELLING* author Hank Kirton, comes the fifth book in the EROTIC HAUNTY PARANORMAL ROMANCE SERIES; REBECCA RAVENDARK'S DARK CURSE OF DARK EROTICRY...

"Oh, Blunt! You frightened me. I didn't see you there."

"Didn't you, Rebecca?"

"No. I didn't."

"How about now?" He stepped toward her with his loins.

"Yes. I see you now." Rebecca felt a stirring in her clam. It felt like Christmas in Delaware.

Blunt grabbed her forcefully. She could smell his masculine man-sweat. He smelled like a stallion after a close race at Suffolk Downs.

"No, please!" Rebecca cried. Her breasts both heaved. Blunt's eyes slid like salamanders to her decolletage. Her bosom was ample. Like abundant pumpkins in late October.

"But is this not what you wanted?" he said. His teeth were perfectly straight. Rebecca marveled at his orthodontia. “Please don’t tease me Rebecca. I like being teased about as much as a badger likes being denied Fig Newtons.”

"Yes, I know but I...wait, what?”

Blunt just looked at her with both eyes. His eyes were dark and filled with lust. But she also saw danger in his eyes. And buttermilk. Then she remembered his penis and two testicles.

“Never mind. Come Blunt. Follow me to the solarium."

Blunt grinned at her with his mouth. "Sounds like a plan."

“You betcha, Ace.”

--from, The Dark Erotic Haunting of Rebecca Ravendark

*Apparently you can just call yourself "bestselling" whether it's true or not, so wtfn?