by David Beem
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
GENRE: Comedy Fiction
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
It’s
been said every story must start somewhere. Ours begins with a professional
dork. The kind who fixes computers and lives in his gran’s basement. The kind
tapped by destiny (that saucy minx) to become the world’s first superhero!
And not a moment too soon…
A nano-sized artificial intelligence is on the loose! It got itself dart-gunned into a cow butt by a frog man in a porn store! Two stoners are corrupting it on twitter! And that’s just the first three pages!!
Join our dork of destiny as he channels the collective unconscious—his psychic superpower—in a harrowing tale of high drama, romance, betrayal, revenge, jesus chickens, cocaine, weirdos, magicians, ninjas, nfl spies, and disco ball water torture administered to the tune of rapture, by blondie. My god, man, what does it all mean!?
It means uncorking that next bottle of wine isn’t only a good idea—it’s advisable.
And not a moment too soon…
A nano-sized artificial intelligence is on the loose! It got itself dart-gunned into a cow butt by a frog man in a porn store! Two stoners are corrupting it on twitter! And that’s just the first three pages!!
Join our dork of destiny as he channels the collective unconscious—his psychic superpower—in a harrowing tale of high drama, romance, betrayal, revenge, jesus chickens, cocaine, weirdos, magicians, ninjas, nfl spies, and disco ball water torture administered to the tune of rapture, by blondie. My god, man, what does it all mean!?
It means uncorking that next bottle of wine isn’t only a good idea—it’s advisable.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPT
Water
and glass shower the dance floor. Needle scratches vinyl. Hattori Hanzo seizes
control instinctively and I land with the grace of a ninja. Mary, who has no
dead ninja in her head, thuds with the grace of a turkey carcass dropped from
the Level Two parapet of Westfield Horton Plaza.
“Kill
them!” someone yells.
“Don’t
kill them!” I yell back, figuring that’s got to be worth a try.
Shots
are fired. Screaming patrons run and duck for cover. A bullet ricochets off the
wall. I grab Mary by the ropes binding her, and drag her behind a nearby couch.
More
gunfire.
I
chance a peek. Caleb Montana is near the front door, exchanging shots with two
Nostradamus agents hiding behind a life-size statue of Caleb in his quarterback
uniform, one arm cocked back, preparing to pass the football, and the other
stretched out in front, pointing.
I
round on Mary, who flings her wet hair back like a Sports Illustrated swimsuit
model. Water sprays my supersuit’s visor.
“Cut
me loose.”
“Right,
right,” I say, feeling around on my utility belt. Jeez, I’ve never tried to
locate anything without someone helping me from the Collective Unconscious.
There are a lot of things here. I pull a tiny ball out, and the nano-technology
grows into a switchblade-shaped object. Seems promising. I flick it on. Blue
flame blows out from the end.
“Holy
crap!”
“Come
on, quit fooling around.”
“Don’t
rush me! Do you have any idea how stressful this is?”
“Come
on,” she says, her voice husky, cheek to floor, back arched, butt in the air.
“You
never see Batman having this problem,” I mutter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
David Beem enjoys superhero movies, taekwondo,
and flossing. He lives in Djibouti with his family and crippling self-doubt.
Help actualize David’s inner confidence. Visit his website today, and buy all
the stuff.
Twitter
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The tour dates can be found here
Thanks for hosting!
ReplyDeleteThank you for featuring my book today!
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed getting to know your book; congrats on the tour, I hope it is a fun one for you, and thanks for the chance to win :)
ReplyDeleteGotta love the premise!
ReplyDelete--Trix
Great excerpt, thanks for sharing :)
ReplyDeleteThis sounds like crazy fun.
ReplyDelete