I sipped the drink and choked it down with an involuntary cough of gutteral dissent. The first taste of whiskey in the morning can be a shock to a mans system, searing him right through the spine. “Well, I aint no expert in weaponry, but wont that rifle just about explode a ground hog? You got anything smaller?” Dave chuckled and looked over at his new gun. “Well if I wanted anything left of em, I’d shoot em with an arrow Coy. I aim to send a message to the whole gotdammed prairie dog network. Stay the hell out of Marilyn Tripp’s garden or ol’ Dave and his Hogwrecker will splatter you to pieces!”
Archive for the ‘‘Washing Out” Novel Excerpts’ Category
Washing Out Excerpt – Mock trials, peeping Dave’s, and gopher blasting
Posted in 'Washing Out" Novel Excerpts on July 21, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Washing Out Excerpt – The Committee to Recreate the Edge of Ajax
Posted in 'Washing Out" Novel Excerpts on June 16, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
“This town has gotten pretty messed up in the time since we made the Edge of Ajax. We’ve had ups and downs all throughout the history here – but this here down seems different. I know its different. In fact, some would call it what we’re in now a period of prosperity, but I think that each one of us would agree that what the people buying those houses out there call prosperity we all call a goddamned struggle. This place has become a playground for the world’s elite, the CEO’s, the financiers, Princes and Queens, movie stars and the quietly criminal. And, like some invasive plant, they’ve squeezed all the life out of this place. There is no room for the natives – the teachers, the firemen, the mountain climber or the hunter. We’ve got families who date back to the mining days selling their family homes and ranches here every day, selling out because there is no choice not to. The property taxes and cost of living has gone up so much that you have to be billionaire just to own a mortgage here,” he continued. The crowd, and I in it, was transfixed. It was the truth.
Washing Out Excerpt – The 420 Party
Posted in 'Washing Out" Novel Excerpts on April 28, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
“Drink the baby, virgin!” a female voice said in mock anger, and scanning the orange faces I recognized it to belong to none other than the beaming visage of Cassady. I pulled the Baby back from the Hellfire, and cradled it dearly, before plunging my mouth down on the straw and pulling vast gulps of the most vile, most gut wrenching blend of evil tasting liquer that I have ever encountered. “GO GO GO!” the crowd chanted, and I fought back a wave of nausea as I attemped to drain the Baby. As I worked the swill down, I started to think that I might make it to the bottom, despite the disgusting nature of the contents, but I was soon overcome with a powerful retching. A disheartened looking young dude with blond dreadlocks started pleading with me to leave some for the rest, so I broke contact with the bastardized watermelon. I had done some damage to the baby though, and when I handed it off it was much lighter than when it was handed to me.
Washing Out Excerpt – Landing in Bonedale
Posted in 'Washing Out" Novel Excerpts on April 24, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
I stamped my snowy shoes at the doorsill and stepped into a musty lair of dubious purpose. I quickly glanced around, unsure despite being in the right place and being invited in by a living goddess. Every inch of every wall in the large front room was covered with posters, stickers, graffiti; cave art, beer signs, cave art of beer signs, and all of it had large chunks of art and wall missing in no particular pattern.
Washing Out Excerpt – Anti-rollback Training
Posted in 'Washing Out" Novel Excerpts on April 12, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
“Petar. I want you to imagine. I want you to imagine that you are at the controls of a two-mile long ski lift, full of paying customers. An on that lift are people that you hold to be the dearest people in your life. Your mother. Your grandmother. Your cute little Russian girlfriend from Moscow…” Scotty was fully wound up now, hitting a gear that I had not anticipated in him. I had no idea where he was getting this material, but I suspected that it was making Petar uncomfortable, judging by the amount of times that he cleared his throat during the speech.
Mardi Gras in Snowmass Village
Posted in 'Washing Out" Novel Excerpts on April 8, 2009 | 2 Comments »
The drummer, a wild assed speed fiend named Don who once shredded his double bass drums for a popular heavy metal band, was half in the swinging kitchen door and half out. An oblivious looking waitress kept sliding past him with overflowing trays of food, disappearing out into the mad maw of the full tilt Mardi Gras celebration. As she contorted herself to slide past Don and his kit, a chicken wing fell off of her tray, and landing on the snare drum. Without missing a beat, he flicked the saucy wing up in the air with his stick and caught it in his mouth, where he ground the whole thing into a semi-digestible pulp, bones, sauce and all. It is the little things that drummers do that no one ever sees.
