Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Courderoys, Printers, Hungover Snails and THE EIGHT-FINGERED CRIMINAL'S SON


Did I mention I wrote a book?

I just recieved the mock-up of the first 15 pages from the printer. It looks fantastic.  We're now awaiting the mock-up of the complete text. I guess you could say my printer has gone from moving at the pace of a hungover snail to moving along at the pace of a hungover snail that's had a glass of Alka Seltzer.

Did I mention that I am a high school teacher?

Today some wisenhiemer kid told me he liked my courderoys. They were making a zipping noise as I was running to the library.

I stopped and waved my finger at the modern day juvenile delinquent and cautioned,"Listen here, bub, I realize that was a sarcastic remark. I know you were making fun of me."

To which he replied, "Did you just call me bub?"

"Hah!" I snapped back, my finger waving back and forth like some kind of out of control windshield wiper. "You're doing it again. You're making fun of me. You're being sarcastic again."

The kid was left speechless. On the other hand, he may have been a little freaked out.

Satisfied, I made my way to the library and went about the business of teaching. The point is the day is coming when I won't be able tell that they're making fun of me.And  I'm afraid that day is right around the corner. I'm not getting any younger, man. I'm telling you I can't see myself still teaching ten years from now.

This is why I'm asking you to read The Eight Fingered Criminal's Son. In case you haven't heard, the e-book is available at http://www.amazon.com/The-Eight-Fingered-Criminals-Son-ebook/dp/B005NWH8L4 for  a measly 5 bucks. And the print version will be available as soon as the hungover snail of a printing company prints the thing.

2 comments:

Momma Fargo said...

Just stopped in to say hello! How's the book biz going?

Rick Rivers said...

Used to love my cords back in the 50's, the zip-zip-zip sound was amazing. My older brothers had a thing going where they actually smeared "grease", black stuff down the legs of their pants! I suppose it was cool in those days. Meanwhile, welcome to O.F.C. (old farts club).