Tag Archives: writing

Check Out Lee Hall’s The Teleporter

Hey 3.5 readers.  Please cast all 7 of your eyes on Lee Hall’s “The Teleporter” on Amazon:

Full disclosure, Lee wrote a nice review of the first episode of my series, “The Last Driver,” so I’m trying to return the favor here.  That being said, a book about a drunk with the power to teleport sounds like a funny premise to me.  I’m sober myself, but I’d love the power to teleport.  Wouldn’t it be great to go wherever you want, whenever you want and not have to get on a plane or get bogged down with all the traveling and pay all that money on plane tickets and so forth?

Check it out today and if you like it, give our British buddy a nice review!

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Great Musings of the Twenty-First Century -#426-450

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#426 – I’d bang my head against the wall but I don’t like pain.

#427 – I once defeated a Bandersnatch with nothing but my pinky finger, a jar of cake batter and my brute strength.

#428 – I don’t watch television.  Television watches me.

#429 – Is it possible to hustle and bustle at the same time?

#430 – Why doesn’t anyone ever build a snow woman?  Is it because people are sexist or because tacking on a pair of snow boobs seems inappropriate? OK, but then you could decide your snow woman is flat chested, but do you want to resign your snow woman to that cruel fate?  Always being the last one invited to the snow person dance?  Right, but who are you to say that being a flat chested snow woman is a cruel fate?  Maybe the flat chested snow woman has a keen wit and a charming personality that more than makes up for…and, screw it.  Let’s just make a snow man.

#431 – Everyone likes eggs over easy.  No one likes eggs under hard.

#432 – I may or may not be a shaman.

#433 – Kale is not delicious but it is nutritious.

#434 – It is my life’s goal to date a bimbo.  I don’t know that I want to marry one, but I’d like to take one to a movie and to get a pint of rocky road ice cream with.  Basically, I would like to study bimbos in their natural habitat and report my findings to the masses.  Who am I kidding?  I am a man so I would probably marry one if given the opportunity and then she would take half the profits from my book publishing enterprise.  Joke’s on her because she’ll spend a lot on lawyer’s fees just to get fifty cents.

#435 – When there’s a knock on your door, it could be anyone from the police, to a murderer, to a neighbor looking to borrow a cup of sugar, to a friend bringing you a box of cookies to the love of your life who you are about to meet for the very first time.  Some visitors will make you regret opening the door.  Others will make you elated you opened the door.  Sadly, you’ll never know if opening the door was a good or bad idea until you open it.  Then again, you could always ask who is at the door, though keep in mind the person could always lie.

#436 – There is a skeleton in my closet.  His name is Fred.

#437 – It has been a long time since I went to a party that had a punch bowl.  Then again, it has been a long time since I’ve attended a party.  Come to think of it, have I ever been invited to a party? FML.

#438 –  I find these musings amusing.

#439 – If you always walk backwards, you’ll never move forwards…unless you move backward in the direction you wanted to go in the first place.

#440 – I wonder if there is an exact double of me out there somewhere.  Then again, there’s no way there could be two such sexy motherfuckers in this world.

#441 – I want to get out of town…or do I want the town to get out of me?

#442 – Watermelon is neither water nor a melon.  Discuss.

#443 – Ignorance is bliss.  If I could be 35% dumber, I’d be so much happier.

#444 – Waffles are better than pancakes.

#445 – I’ve never seen that Nutcracker play they are always putting on at Christmastime.  Ten years with my ex-wife was enough.

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Buy My Book!

Sorry, 3.5 readers.  Gotta keep the lights on.

Are you, like me, a conspiracy theorist who is constantly worried the government is going to descend into a dictatorship that will control ever aspect of your life?

First, get help.  Second, get a copy of the first episode of The Last Driver, now available on Amazon for 99 cents.

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Buy My Book!

Hey 3.5 readers.  BQB here.

I try not to overload you with this but occasionally I have to pitch my stuff, so please, if you are so inclined, stop on over Amazon and get a copy of my big book of badass writing prompts for 99 cents.

Here’s a spoiler.  You can use them as inspiration for your writing if you want, but it’s really just a vehicle for all my jokes that have kept you 3.5 readers captivated for so long now.

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Words the Media Should Stop Using

#1 and #2 – Terrifying, Horrifying or Variants

EXAMPLE: “Senator Bumble’s Support for Bill #535 is Terrifying!”

No it isn’t.  You know what’s terrifying? Leatherface coming at you with a revving chainsaw and the car you’re in is out of gas.

If you don’t support that bill, then Senator Bumble’s support for it is disappointing, ill-advised or contrary to your beliefs, but one usually only feels terror when one is in a dangerous situation, one where there is a great likelihood of danger to your physical well-being.

Things that are terrifying: Mike Myers chasing you with a machete.  A dump truck barreling down on you and your foot is stuck in a pothole.  A Bengal tiger spotting you and licking his chops.

Times I Have Been Terrified in My Life: 1) I was getting out of a car on a rainy night when I noticed another car had veered off the road and was about to crash into the car I was getting out of. I had to make a split second decision to keep getting out of the car and try to make a run for it or get back in the car.  I got back in the car and as it turns out, that was the better move as the impact pushed the car quite a bit, right over the spot I would have been in…as you know, a person not inside a car to protect me.  That was terrifying but I am now here to entertain you 3.5 readers so it worked out.

Other Time I Was Terrified:  I was walking alone in a neighborhood at night and an enormous dog started following me.  He kept sniffing at me, nipping at me, put his paws on me (on my shoulders because that’s how big it was) and it was just huge.  I’m not sure the feeling amounted to terror but there was a large concern in my mind at the time that this mutt could have ripped out my larynx if it wanted then defiled my corpse and it was such a quiet country road that it would have been days before the road cleanup crew would have scooped me up with a spatula.  Luckily, the dog didn’t want to.

At any rate, I have felt terror and close to terror but bloviating politicians have yet to strike terror into me.

Things that are not terrifying: Senator Bumble’s support for a bill.

Here’s a handy tip.  When you read about Senator Bumble, did your butthole pucker? Did you break out into a cold sweat?  Did your heart beat rapidly? No?  OK, so then let’s stop using the word terrifying to describe things that don’t cause these things to happen.

#3 – Destroyed

EXAMPLE: Talk Show Host Talky McTalksalot Just Gave a Monologue That Destroyed Trump!

No.  To destroy is to eradicate.  Make it no longer there. Maybe Talky’s monologue gave a strong argument against Trump’s policies.  Maybe you agree with Talky and are happy to see someone is vocalizing a point you agree with.  Maybe Talky has shown where Trump has made a mistake or has engaged in some action you find disagreeable, but Trump was not destroyed.  Trump is still here.  He is still getting up every day, eating his morning Big Mac, then tweeting up a storm.

There are some other words the media uses that drive me crazy but that’s all I can think of for now.

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Self-Publishing Seems Like an Uphill Battle

Hey 3.5 readers.

BQB here.

So here’s what surprised me about self-publishing.

I never thought my books would take off overnight and turn me into an instant millionaire.

I am surprised that there’s so little interest in them.

Call me naïve but I just figured, wow, the Internet, you know?  You put your book on Amazon and Amazon is checked by zillions of people so someone searching for a topic related to your book so just by pure chance there should be at least a hundred bucks worth of purchases right there.

100 purchases at .99 cents a piece?  Is that a lot?  I don’t know.  Is it a lot in comparison to the millions of people who go on to Amazon constantly?

It’s like being the guy that sells oranges on the side of the road.  At least 5 people out of the 1000 who drive past you will buy an orange.

I don’t know.  I’m just surprised because I haven’t made enough money to count on the fingers on my right hand yet.

Am I complaining or being a crybaby?  Yes, though that’s not the intention.  I guess I just thought Amazon was the ultimate tuna filled ocean and if I dipped my net into it, surely just by random luck I’d cash the occasional fish.

Do I need 100 bucks?  No.  Would 100 bucks change my life?  No.  I’m just surprised I’ve barely made a couple bucks.

During my recent giveaway, I did give out roughly 75 free books so I guess that’s cool.  I hope people liked them.

It’s a little frustrating and makes me wonder if it is worth it to continue but…who am I kidding?  I couldn’t stop writing if I tried.

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My Prices are Insane!

I’m Crazy BQB!  My prices are insane and I’m passing the savings on to you!

Seriously, 3.5 readers.  You just missed my free book promo giveaway, but it’s not too late to get one of my books for 99 cents.  That’s not even a dollar.  You’ll get to keep an entire penny.  What you do with that penny is your business. I don’t know and I don’t want to know.

So check out my Amazon author profile and get yourself a copy of one of my books today…or don’t.  That’s fine.  It’s a free country, so you don’t have to.

 

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Get The Last Driver – Episode 1 for Free!

 

Hey 3.5 readers.  BQB here to make a sales pitch…except it’s not really about sales because I’m asking you to get a FREE BOOK.  That’s right.  Totally free.

The Last Driver is set in the world of 2050, where self-driving cars are the norm and no one remembers how to drive anymore…except Frank Wylder, an old man who, in his youth (i.e. today) was a bank heist getaway driver for a criminal organization.

The years went on.  Frank retired from his life of crime and went legit.  In the meantime, oh, I don’t know, a freaking dystopian government that conquered the entire world was formed and know The One World order controls everything, literally everything.  They’ve set up the ultimate nanny state.  They make all your decisions for you.  Who are you going to marry?  What job will you have?  How much money can you make and Frank’s least favorite?  How many beers can you have in your fridge?

Yes, it’s the globalism vs. nationalism debate of today magnified times a thousand.  The globalists have one but the Nationalist Front seeks to overthrow the Order.  To that end, they kidnap Frank’s granddaughter and force him to drive for them on a series of anti-Order missions.

Don’t you just hate it when you’re stuck in the middle of two petty, bickering factions?

Get you FREE copy today!  Did I mention that it’s FREE?

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FREE BQB BOOKS!

I’m Crazy BQB and my prices are insane!

My prices are so low I should be put in a straight jacket and shipped off to the funny farm but I don’t care because I’m passing the savings on to you!!!

For the next 5 days you can get my 2 self-published books for absolutely free!  That’s zero dollars!  That’s no money!  Nada! Zilch!

3.5 READERS: OK, BQB, we’ll get your free books.  It’s the least we can do.

Well, the most you could have done was to have bought my books at full price to thank me for the many years I have been entertaining you with this fine blog for free but that’s ok, I love you, 3.5 readers.

But if you could go on over to Amazon and grab my free books, that would be awesome.  If you could leave a review, that would be great.  If you could share news of my free books on your preferred time wasting social media website, that would be perfect.

FRIENDS OF MY 3.5 READERS: Oh great, the 3.5 readers are going to share yet another boring lunch photo and what?!  They’re posting links to BQB’s awesome free books instead?  Hooray!  The 3.5 readers are the best!

So, what will you find for free from BQB?

First, The Last Driver – Episode 1 just dropped like it’s hot (that’s so 2000’s) on Amazon.  Someone bought a copy within the first hour and thank you to that person.  The rest of you need to get your priorities straight.

Next up, you can also get BQB’s Big Book of Badass Writing Prompts, for FREE as well:

Now, 3.5 readers, I don’t know what time it is in your neck of the woods, but this sale is scheduled to start tomorrow.  What time that actually kicks in I don’t know.  I’m going to assume midnight.  Obviously, if you go on over before October 26, you’ll have to pay full price, and if you want to do that, I’d appreciate it, because damn it, keeping the lights on at BQB HQ is no easy task, let me tell you.  By the way, do you have any idea how much yetis eat?

But if you are cheap-o skinflint, I totally understand as the Baby Boomers have been selling us all down the river for years and don’t even get me started on the post-2000 economy.  I understand.  You can’t go around spending your cash on every book offered to you by a magic bookshelf caretaker.  Ergo, you can wait until the sale starts on the 26th and get both books for FREE!

Thank you for your support, 3.5 readers.

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Toilet Shocker – Prologue

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Prologue
January, 2018 – A few months after the events of Toilet Gator.
Bangkok was a city a man who wanted to escape his past could get lost in. It was a lawless land filled with sights and stimulation, distractions and debauchery, virtually any and all vices afflicting the human condition could be purchased for a price. Baht was the name of the game and at the moment, the name of the game was high stakes pick a number.
In the dimly back room of The Scorpion Nest, the worst dive bar in a city full of dive bars, a formerly attractive middle-aged man by the name of Ed Enwright sat at a table with a pile of brightly colored currency before him and a loaded revolver that he had willingly pressed up against his own table. His beard hadn’t been trimmed in months and a bandana kept his long hair from falling into his eyes.
Sitting across from Ed was Boon-Mee, a degenerate louse with a face full of scars. Like Ed, he too also reeked of cheap booze and bad decisions. He too pressed a loaded revolver up to his head. He too had a pile of money in front of him.
Anurak, an elderly barkeep with a glass eye, presided over the game. Behind him, a gaggle of drunks waved currency about, placing their bets and watching the game intently. As soon as Anurak raised a hand, all sounds in the room ceased.
Ed and Boon-Mee stared each other down as sweat dripped from their brows.
“I’m thinking of a number,” Anurak said. “Between 1 and 10.”
Ed gritted his teeth. Boon-Mee breathed heavily.
“Yes,” Anurak said. “A number between 1 and 10. I have it in my mind now. Boon-Mee, what is it?”
Boon-Mee hyperventilated. Spittle sprayed out of his mouth as he gave his reply. “Seven!”
“Are you sure?” Anurak asked.
Boon-Mee looked at Ed, then at the crowd, then to the barkeep. “Yes! Seven! I’m positive.”
Anurak shook his head. “No, I’m sorry. It’s not seven.”
Boon-Mee’s face turned ghostly white. He closed his eyes and winced. “Goodbye, cruel world,” were the man’s last words just before he pulled the trigger and sprayed the room full of blood and brains.
Hushed murmurs erupted from the crowd as Boon-Mee’s carcass slumped over the table.
“Ed!” Anurak said. “I’m thinking of a number between 1 and 10…and as we just established, it is not 7.”
Ed’s hand shook nervously as he pondered the barkeep’s question. “Five?”
The rummies in attendance all waited on Anurak’s answer, their eyes glued to the barkeep for fear they might miss it. “Mmm hmm. Yes. Five it is.”
“Hooray!” The crowd cheered and settled their bets as Ed broke out in a cold sweat. He breathed a sigh of relief, then reached across the table to pull the late Boon-Mee’s loot pile towards his.
After a few minutes of consolidating all that sticky, crinkly baht into a relatively solid currency brick, the winner moseyed on over to the bar, where Anurak was busy pouring obscure, exotic looking drinks into skull shaped glasses.
Ed looked to his left, then to his right. The coast was clear. He pulled roughly fifty-percent of his newly acquired winnings to the glass eyed man. Anurak seized the cash and tucked it into his pocket quickly.
“You look like shit, Ed,” Anurak said as he slid a skull across the bar. “On the house.”
“Mmm,” Ed said as he grabbed the glass and tipped it into his mouth. “That’s good. What is that? An old, secret potion? An elixir the recipe of which your family has guarded since ancient times?”
Anurak smirked. “It’s a banana daiquiri, asshole. I just put it in a skull glass so fat, lazy, stupid American tourists like you will think it’s special and pay me more beaucoup bucks.”
“Hmm,” Ed said as he smacked his lips together. “Whatever. It’s good. You’ve outdone yourself.”
“So, have you,” the barkeep replied. “Get out of my joint, Ed. I can’t do business with you anymore.”
“What?” Ed asked. “Why?”
This time, Anurak looked around to make sure no one was looking. “Look, there’s a shelf-life to the old, ‘high stakes pick a number’ con. Most of these gambling gawkers understand that the whole thing is rigged and they just want to see some nincompoop blow his brains out, but the key is that most fellas who are in on it blow town after a few nights so I can find a new accomplice to bilk the marks.”
“Have I been at it so long?” Ed asked.
“Six weeks,” Anurak said. “How long were you in Bangkok before you met me?”
“Honestly,” Ed said. “I don’t remember. It’s all a blur.”
A naked woman walked past the bar, pulling an endangered panda bear on a leash behind her.
“Although, twelve weeks ago, something like that would have surprised me,” Ed said.
“Where else have your travels taken you?” Anurak said.
“Oh,” Ed said. “So many places. Mexico, Brazil, Argentina, India, Pakistan, Tibet, Hong Kong, Morocco…”
“Wow,” Anurak said. “I bet you’ve boom-boomed every color of pussy known to man.”
Ed grinned. “You’d think so but no.”
“Ahh,” Anurak said. “You carry a torch for a woman in your past life?”
Ed took a swig of daiquiri. “You might said that.”
“Yeah,” Anurak said. “Well, my friend, Confucious say, ‘He who forgoes the new pussy of today out of love of pussy of the past is truly the greatest pussy of all in the present.’”
The drunk nodded. “That’s very profound.”
The barkeep ran a towel along the surface of the bar, then leaned over to stare at his friend in the eye. “You did your best, Ed. Go home. Clean yourself up. You’re doing no one any good here.”
Ed’s heart skipped a beat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”
“You’re a good man,” Anurak said. “You deserve better than this.”
Ed downed the rest of his drink, then rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “Am I missing something? It sounds like you know some things about me that I don’t recall ever telling you.”
Anurak pointed to a TV monitor hanging over the bar. On it, footage of a tall skyscraper in Chicago played. The barkeep grabbed the remote and turned up the volume loud enough that an announcer’s voice could be heard.
“You’re watching the Documentary Direct,” the announcer said. “The only channel that brings you all of your favorite films featuring voice over announcers speaking ominously over archive footage. If you’re watching this tonight, your chances of getting laid are slim to none.”
“He’s got you there,” Anurak said.
Ed nodded in the affirmative.
“Tonight at 9, we’ll be featuring, ‘Milk, Milk, Lemonade,’ a retrospective on the world’s most infamous combination dairy farms, lemonade stands and fudge packing plants and not what you assumed we’d be talking about, you disgusting excuse for a human being, but first, where were you when the Equinox Tower fell?”
“OK,” Ed said. “I got it.”
“This shit has been on all week,” Anurak said. “Every channel.”
“Yeah,” Ed said. “It’s the ten-year anniversary. Can we watch something else?”
The announcer carried on. “One thousand, two-hundred and forty-eight lives were lost when a mad bomber’s reign of terror…”
Ed spoke loudly, drowning over the announcer. “Put on a game show. A sitcom. Anything else, please.”
A stock photo of a much younger, more handsome, physically fit Ed appeared on the screen. He was clean shaven and his eyes appeared more hopeful than they had ever been.
“And what ever happened to Ed Enwright, the head of the FBI’s top counter-terrorism unit and the lead investigator on this case? Sources say he was fired shortly after the tower was lost, though the circumstances of his termination were never made public. After that, his friends and colleagues say they never heard from him again. It’s almost as if he vanished into thin air.”
Ed reached over the bar, yanked the remote out of Anurak’s hand and flipped the channels until he landed on a game show. Three lucky contests stood behind podiums as the host shouted, “Who’s ready to play, ‘Dodge That Suppository?’”
“I’m sorry, my friend,” Anurak said. “It’s just not often I get a celebrity in my bar. You looked good back then. You really let yourself go.”
“Thanks,” Ed said.
“No, seriously,” Anurak said. “The dark spots under your eyes and the flecks of gray in your hair and beard and you’ve packed on at least, what, twenty or thirty pounds?”
“Set me up with another drink and I’ll start working on forty,” Ed said.
Anurak forked over another skull full of daquiri.
“I don’t care what anyone says,” Anurak said. “You’re a hero.”
“Yeah,” Ed said. “Tell that to my kid.”
Anurak ran his towel over the bar once more. “Confucius say, ‘The shorter the life, the lesser the strife, the longer one lives, the easier one forgives.’”
“I’ll drop that in a note and mail it to her,” Ed said. “Maybe she’ll take my calls.”
“Maybe you skip the call and visit in person,” Anurak said.
Ed swigged from the skull. “Maybe.”
The barkeep reached out and grabbed Ed’s hand. “You’re not welcome here anymore.”
“Why?” Ed asked. “Did I fart or something?”
“On occasion,” Anurak said. “But no. I can’t stand to see someone with so much left to offer the world sit here, night after night, letting his skills go to waste.”
“The world and I aren’t exactly simpatico,” Ed said.
“Confucius say…”
“Oh, here we go,” Ed said as he guzzled his booze. “More Confucius.”
“Shut your hole, Yankee imperialist swine,” Anurak said. “Confucius was a wise man and had more brains in his left nut than you’ll ever have in your entire life.”
Ed shrugged his shoulders. “Probably true.”
Anurak continued. “Confucius say, ‘He who has failed in one chapter, must find a new purpose in the next, or else he will just go on repeating the same old shit forever and ever.’”
“Confucius really said, ‘shit?’” Ed asked.
“Oh, he had a very foul tongue, that Confucius,” Anurak said.
The barkeep slid over a third skull. “The last drink I’ll ever serve you. You’re welcome to stay until closing, but then for your own good, I never want to see you here again. If you won’t find a new reason to live, then please, kill yourself in another bar.”
“I hear the Tong Sia Lounge has good chicken wings,” Ed said.
“Hmm,” Anurak said. “I don’t know about that. I hear they taste better going in, but feel worse when they come out. If you’ll excuse me, it’s been nice knowing you, friend.”
Anurak waltzed down the bar to serve more customers. Ed flipped through the channels on TV.
“A new purpose,” Ed said. “A new purpose. Where the hell can I find a new purpose?”
Ed channel surfed for a while until he settled on the Movie Now channel. He was hoping to catch a flick but instead there was another documentary playing.
“Jeeze,” Ed said. “What a buzzkill.”
“Welcome back to the Movie Now channel,” the announcer said. “We love to bring you the latest flicks featuring grown ass adults pretending to be caped, costumed, spandex wearing superheroes, the occasional reboot of a film that came out two years ago, and of course, romantic comedies where the so-called ugly friend is just a hot chick with a pair of glasses slapped on her attractive face. But we also want in on award season, so tonight, we’re bringing you the documentary version of Jaws of Death: The Inside Story of the News Duo That Tracked the Toilet Gator.
Archive footage of ex-Sitwell Police Chief Cole Walker played. In the middle of a street flooded by a hurricane, the forty-year-old man stood in a sinking canoe, pressing a whirring chainsaw blade up against the big green monster’s sharp, pointy teeth.
“It was the story that shocked a nation,” the announcer said in a voice over. “Three people, one of them none other than Countess Cucamonga, died on the toilet in a single night.”
Ed had been drinking at the very moment that last statement was made. Out of shock, he sprayed his daiquiri out of his lips and all over the bar. “Countess Cucamonga is dead?!”
An angry Anurak returned and furiously wiped up Ed’s spit. “Damn it, Ed! I know this place is a shithole but I try to keep up a few standards.”
“Dude,” Ed said as he pointed at the TV, which was showing archived footage of an alligator bursting out of a toilet, only to devour the Mayor of Sitwell, Florida. “When the hell did that happen?”
“What?” Anurak asked. “The toilet gator? You never heard about that?”
“No,” Ed said.
“Were you living under a rock last fall?” Anurak asked.
Ed searched the deep recesses of his mind. “Last fall…last fall…damn, that ayahuasca is some potent shit.”
“Seriously, Ed,” Anurak said. “Get in a program.”
“What happened?” Ed asked.
“You really don’t know?” Anurak asked.
“No,” Ed said. “Why would I ask if I didn’t know?”
“There was a fat ass alligator,” Anurak said. “Popping out of toilets in Florida and eating people. He had an accomplice. An over the hill cop with a prosthetic leg hunted it down and killed it.”
Anurak and Ed stared at each other in silence.
“Kinda makes you feel like a loser that you aren’t doing more with your life given the fact that you have two good legs, doesn’t it?” the barkeep asked.
“Yeah,” Ed said as he stood up. “A little bit.”
The announcer continued. “In the wake of the toilet gator carnage, Americans have one question on their minds, ‘Is it safe to shit?’”
A Southern woman with three babies in tow spoke into a microphone. “I don’t care what the lying government or the fake news media says, I will never shit in a toilet again for as long as I live.”
Ed pushed the skull drink away. “I think I just found my new purpose.”
“You’re going to help that lady take a shit?” Anurak said.
“Something like that,” Ed said. “Thanks for your hospitality.”
“Don’t mention it,” Anurak said. “Oh, and Ed…”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t forget,” Anurak said. “’Confucius say, ‘He who cries for many months will lubricate his soul, but he who cries for many years will drown himself.’”
“Did Confucious really say all those things?” Ed asked.
“Not at all,” Anurak said. “I just think of advice that would help my customers and then tell them Confucius said it because it sounds better coming from an ancient philosopher than it does from an old bum like me. Most fat, stupid, lazy Americans are easily fooled though honestly, I expected more from an educated man like you.”
“I’m sorry,” Ed said.
“You should be,” Anurak said. “Racist prick.”

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