Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Day 2

Where's the gas station? I'ma feeling a li'tle low. It hurts to be me today.

Think about this please. There are places called fertility clinics. They are happy little places that are in the baby making business. They have quiet, comfy rooms with porn flicks and girlie magazines. Men are visual and this helps in the process of collecting what needs to be collected. Some guys get promoted to lofty positions in society, like, prey tell, the Chief of Police. These guys get comfy little offices, complete with doors that have locks on them. These fellas also have access to social media. That's how it works. So they take this silly little perk and before you know it . . . you don't want to exactly shake hands with 'em.

I put together my character, Badge Pullet, who the officers joked 'bout. They claimed they'd 'pull it' if they had a wife like he did. Guess what? cops do joke around at times. Hey, this was long before Sydney Leathers and on and on. Right? So what do I do? I write a piece called Justhis. Oh, for sure there were thoughts expressed. This can't happen - Policemen aren't like this - You shouldn't be so mean - Your writing is racy - and well, you get the picture.

A little englishman read the book and thought it was an injustice. It wasn't action packed enough. He likes his thrillers to be action packed. Well, fee-fi-fo-fum, I write fiction-suspense with hopefully a touch of learning involved. I walked the mean streets of America in a uniform looking, watching, wondering & remembering. My Chief was an inspiration. He feel in love with his computer and I feel in love with writing. You see, cover-ups & sexting cops are a fact of life. That's it in a nutshell, so if your living in a polly anna world of 'nice' please don't read JusThis. If your intrigued, wait a couple of days, cause the price is going to drop my friends.

Peace and remember . . . it'll only get better if and when we wake up and smell the coffee. What do I drink? Justhis! And remember to reconsider the handshake of the man in his lonely office with only the computer to call honey.

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