I WAS ABOUT to be tortured.
And not in a good way.
....And if you've read my book, you know why.
This is not my book.
This is my website.
"What, this?" I hear you shouting. "But where's all the other crap? You've got to have pictures, and videos, and fancy formatting,
Yeah, that's right. Yawn.
Fact is, if that's what you were hoping for, you're shit out of luck. See, I don't particularly care about SEO and pretty landing pages and all that other crap that Google goes for. Hell, I don't care about death, taxes, or even the poor bastard I've got writing this at gun-point.
I care about number one.
...But I suppose the poor bastard is pretty useful. After all, I wouldn't go halvsies on my website with just anyone. Although, I guess that technically makes this our website, now that I think about it.
Well, his, mine, and the voices, anyway.
Yeah, seriously, you need to read my book.
The poor bastard, on the other hand, he just needs 1,000 true fans. Why? Because that's what Kevin Kelly says will let him pay his bills, quit his day job, and, in the words of Neil Gaiman, make good art. (I know, right? Gay-Man. Hilarious :D)
Now, I don't whether you're going to be one of these 1,000, but I figure if you've read this far, you're probably well on the way. Which probably means I should subtly flatter you at this point. Which I probably would, if I cared. Which I don't. Which is making our poor bastard friend, here, cry a little, because he really thought I was going to help him out, and that there are any more than 100 people as crazy enough as I allegedly am to still be reading this, and that want be a part of it. Which, in conjunction with the whole gun-to-the-head-thing, is why he's been referred to thus far as "the poor bastard".
But enough about him.
Let's get back to numero uno.
Because I've got a bone to pick.
With the government.
What kind of bone? Well, first off, you'd think that after all the effort I put in to doing the shit I do—and do so stylishly, I might add—they'd at least take the time to pretty up my damn wanted poster. I mean, seriously, just look at this thing. I've seen more effort on Biggest Loser USA.
...OK, bad example.
But you get my point.
And I'm talking real basic stuff, here. Like, for instance, COLOR. Would it really kill them to get some RGB in there? Even a little sepia would do wonders. I mean, just look at that adorable mug of mine. This is art, dammit!
What a waste.
Whoever they hired to mock that poster up needs a good ass-kicking. (For a list of my own services, including your friendly neighbourhood ass-kickings, please see my fees below. Package deals available on request.)
...Oh, what, you're still reading? All right, all right, maybe you are one of the 1,000.
Hooray for you.
You've got PB, here, all welled up.
Then again, that could just be from the raw Ghost Chilli I had him eat. (#GunsDon’tKillPeopleButTheyCanMakeThemDoFunnyShit)
In any case, you're probably looking for a sign up form, right about now. Get on the mailing list, join the popular kids, blah, blah blah?
But no spam.
Seriously, if I see even one of those loosey-goosey "Just saying Hey!" emails, I'm going to lose it. You got a question, that's one thing. You got problem and the money to cover my fee, that's fine, too. But don't you even think about sending that damn cat picture.
Here's the sign-up form.
OK. Now, where were we.
Oh yeah, me.
So there I am, on a job, just tying up a few last-minute details, and I see something on the phone that makes me stop. It’s not exactly worrying or anything, just surprising. So I start hashing it out with the two voices in my head:
Hmmm… I said. Looks like I did something stupid.
Something stupid, again, the female voice corrected.
The male voice said, What did you do?
Well, remember that whole thing back in Chicago? I said.
What about it?
The guy we told has written a book.
Yeah? How’s it doing?
I scrolled down the Amazon page and found the bestsellers rank.
What, that’s it? the female voice said.
Apparently, I said.
Shit, we better do something, then. I mean, we’ve got a reputation to think about.
So let’s pay this word-peddler a visit, the male voice said.
I looked at the guy bleeding out on the floor in front of me.
“What do you think?” I asked him.
The guy on the floor didn’t respond. Hard to do when your gagged, but still impolite. Not that I expected any less from the dirtbag. Nor, I expect, did he, than the bullet between the eyes he got next.
All right, I said, scrolling up to find the author’s name. Let’s pay this… Seriously? Axel Cruise?
I guess Apollo Hammer was already taken, the female voice said.
Yeah, I said. Let’s go straighten this poor bastard out.
......Which brings us to the here and now. Me having to take time out of my busy schedule to coach this rookie on how to “build a better mousetrap”. Not easy, but we’re slowly starting to get somewhere. In fact, after a few good kicks to the behind, we made this trailer.
As you can see, this thing has got it all—the voices, the dialogue, the big budget action (not to mention the handsome lead)—everything. Well, everything except views, anyway. Which for the slower among you, is not exactly great.
It's also your fault.
I mean, here's an idea folks, how about you share the damn thing? You've got friends, don't you? Like to Tweet, and tell everyone how much you “heart” various things? Well then, what’s the problem? It takes like ten seconds. Click, click, share. Done. One poor bastard supported.
But let’s talk about social media for a moment. As the more owl-like among you will have noted, I’ve got PB here off completely. Not that he was on it much to begin with—a major point in his favor—but still, it had to be done.
Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat.
No thank you.
But, you are welcome.
See, had PB here, followed the “advice” of every self-pub guru who advocates using that crap, you’d have just ended up seeing another wannabe author pushing out a whole bunch of sad and pathetic posts, all "cleverly" disguised as friendly content and so-called “fan engagement”, but none of which have any worthwhile content or authenticity or any purpose other than some pansy promotional spam.
So yeah, you’re welcome.
And besides, all the cool kids are on the Darknet, anyway. But since the majority of you guys probably aren’t that way inclined just yet (don't worry, I'll straighten you guys out soon enough x), we’ll keep things simple and use the blog as our communication point.
And with that, I bid you adieu.
Services and Fees
General ass-kicking — $1,000 per shit stain.
Acquisitions — 10-15% of dollar value, subject to effort (20% on dollar values over $10M)
Assassinations — POC
*Package deals available on request. Rush jobs may incur additional charges. Bids from opposition may override agreed terms.
“Pleasure to work with, a real gentleman.”
—Gangster who tried a double cross.
“What the fuck is that!!!”
—South american drug lord. (It was hard for him to speak after I cut out his tongue, but I think this a fairly accurate interpretation.)
—Urban crime boss who thought he could shortchange me. (He really should have been less concerned with what it was—a medieval wood shaping tool—and more concerned with where I was about to stick it.)
in Axel Cruise's some poor bastard's home, 2017