Friday, September 23, 2016

Thawing AC Nielsen--Sharing Ch 35

This afternoon I'm sharing chapter 35 of "Thawing A.C. Nielsen". I hope you'll read it. I'm trying to share a chapter or two a day, although at some point I will have to take them all down as the book starts to go to press. I have skipped Ch 34 which is a big highlight of the book- don't want to give too much away here in the sampling!
Very excited! My new novel, Thawing A.C. Nielsen, is now up and available for "pre-sale" (just $2.99 for Kindle or other ebook format, then price goes up before the holidays) on Kindle here:

http://amzn.to/2bULRD1
  
Selling like crazy- please go to that link and consider ordering the ebook or at least sharing the info with other book enthusiasts! It's already hitting top 100 various genre lists on Amazon!


Newly posted there-- a 5-star review from one of the top reviewing companies! Until it goes "live for sale" there won't be any customer reviews or samples-- that happens Oct. 18th. There will also be a paperback version up soon. Check it out and please spread the word. I need all the publicity help I can get since I am not giving away my book to a mainstream publishing house!

I am wondering if any of you would consider reviewing the book. It will be released on Amazon/Kindle on October 18th. I need reviews from regular folks posted to amazon on the release day, if possible. You get a FREE pdf, word.doc or .mobi (Kindle ebook file) copy and plenty of time between now and mid-October to read it. Let me know, friends!



 CHAPTER 35 is pretty bawdy- if you have sensitive ears you might wanna skip reading it. But, it is pretty funny!


CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“What the hell are all these papers you’re dumping on my desk, Shontae? You know I hate paper. Get rid of it!”

“Shut the hell up, Jak, and please mix yourself a drink. You got any liquor hidden in here? You’re so far beyond cranky. That damn caffeine drink just makes you a hyper asshole instead of a boozy one. Tell your doctors to fuck themselves. Anyway, this stuff is from Baby Boy Bronsteyn—more show proposals from the public. The deadline is almost here. These are the best, or maybe just the weirdest ones that have come in recently.”

“Oh, really? I am so excited. Look at me, I’m jumping with so much joy. Oh, fuck it—what’s he got?”

“Here’s one, the working title is Caboose Wars. A bunch of female railroad enthusiasts. They fixed up some old train cars and cabooses—you can sleep in them. Kind of like a bed-and-breakfast thing. They’re in South Dakota.”

“And the war part of it—what’s that, Shontae?”

“There’s another bunch of women one town over copying the first chicks and trying to steal the customers away. You should read about the evil stuff they’ve been doing to each other to try to get the upper hand. Also, all the women happen to have really large—well you fill in the blank, Jak. Can you guess it?” Shontae said, winking.

“Oh fuck, seriously? They’ve all got big asses? What are the odds? Caboose Wars? Yeah, people will watch it.”

“Yes, they will. And maybe we can get Amtrak for some product placement.”

“Anything else?” Jak asked.

“Here’s one. Hmm, let’s see,” said Lou Stanislav, Jak’s production assistant, as he scanned another proposal. “Blade of Truth. It’s this guy in Winnipeg who’s got blades for legs, like that Olympic runner guy who killed his girlfriend. Remember that? Anyway, this blade guy is a hotshot lawyer. Takes cases no one else will. And he wins them all.”

“Wait, this is for real? It sounds like a script.”

“No, it’s for real. I’m reading it through. Check out the pic. The dude is handsome. Chicks will dig him. His mother submitted it. She thinks it should be called Blade of Truth: Going Out on a Limb.”
“That’s so bad it’s good, Lou,” Jak said. “Lord. Any more? Please say no.” He grabbed the tension-release gadget his secretary had given him for Christmas and started squeezing the thing. It hardly helped. A frigging tennis ball would work just as well as this stupid, overpriced thing, Jak thought.

“Sorry, Jak,” Shontae said. “Here’s one more the interns marked all up with yellow Hi-Liter exclamation marks. They call it Who’s Your Oven-Bakin’ Momma?

“Cooking show? We don’t do that. Boring!”

“No, stupid,” Shontae said. “It’s about a group of teen girls in Mississippi who realize there’s big money in being surrogate mothers. They’re not considering getting a job down at the Walmart or Hobby Lobby—that’s for losers. They keep carrying cute little test tube fetuses over and over, hauling in serious dough from desperate-for-children East Coast rich couples. All these girls have funky tats, too, Jak. We all know you love the ladies with tats, right?”

“Eh, fuck you, Shontae.”

“Okay, stop arguing and being such assholes,” Lou demanded. “I timed Chris Bronsteyn’s proposed one hundredth Dimi and Khail Show. It’s a pretty damned good storyboard, but we’re going to be eight or nine minutes short. I can’t find any way to stretch these scenes out to hit our mark. What do you want to do?”

“How about we have Dimi sit on Jak’s face on camera?” Shontae offered. “Watch him squirm. That could be five minutes.”

“Jesus, Shontae, don’t go shocking Lou’s innocent mind with your filthy mouth. He’s a card-carrying Lutheran, for Chrissake,” Jak said, abandoning the stupid gadget and fidgeting with his tie.
“I don’t get it—why doesn’t this show ever just jump the goddamn shark?” Lou asked. “I mean really, who cares about Dimi and Khail? I’d rather watch Montana Mama. Now there’s a woman.”

“So you dig her, Lou? Isn’t she kind of old for you? She’s like forty-five and you’re what—thirty?” Shontae said, poking hard at Lou’s biceps. She loved teasing the millennials who kept coming in waves into the ranks of the biz.

“She’s beautiful. I know her hair is turning gray, but it’s so thick and damn gorgeous. And she’s got like perfect 34C boobs.”

“Oh, so you don’t like Dimi’s? What’s wrong with them?” Jak asked as he filled a cup of coffee. He’d grown tired of the Red Bull.

“They’re gargantuan,” Lou explained. “She could strangle a guy with them. Lure him in, like a black widow spider or a girl praying mantis, and then suffocate him. And imagine what those titties will be like when she’s fifty. Hell, we’ll probably still be filming this damn show then.”

“Lou, in the future we can film it in space. Her aging boobs won’t sag in zero gravity,” Shontae said. “We’ll get NASA’s approval.”

“Ha, stop it. Don’t make me laugh so hard.”

“What, Lou?” Shontae asked. “You’re getting hard? Here, just thinking about Montana Mama?”

“He likes Mama and especially all those bighorn sheep out there in Montana, Shontae,” Jak said. “I think he’s a real animal lover—a zoophiliac, I think they call it.”

“Well, then he’s got something special in common with Dimi and her ancestors. Didn’t those Greek shepherd boys like to fuck their flock?”

“I believe so. Say that ten times fast: fuck their flock, fuck their flock!” Jak let out a long sigh—it was nice to have funny, irreverent friends. Being around them substantially reduced the daily stress of running the production company. For Jak and his staff, these wicked little office gabfests were comic relief for crass people in an admittedly despicable, yet highly lucrative business. “Oh well, seriously, guys, how are we going to pad this show? Add eight minutes? Where, how?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” Lou said.

“I got an idea, guys,” Shontae blurted out as she stood up, grabbed two markers and started to make up a manic storyboard, scribbling wildly on the whiteboard in Jak’s office. “What if we backtrack a little—make that a road trip to a spa in San Diego? There’s a Saturday Night Sexsations shop in a mall there, so that works. That gives us more to work with—easy five minutes. After the mall thing, we’ll tag on three minutes by following Khail and Dimi to Balboa Park. They can ride the carousel, nibble each other’s ears, something sweet just the two of them. Then fade into the sunset.” She added a drooling smiley-face to her presentation, plus a sketch of someone giving the finger.

“Aw, Shontae, that’s precious.” Jak laughed. “Okay, that will work. And if we’re still short a minute or two, Dimi can look straight into the camera and flash the audience, right?”

“Yes, exactly,” Lou said. “Release the twins!”


Thursday, September 22, 2016

Two strong reviews in for Thawing A.C. Nielsen


Hi friends, here's a 5-star review and a 4-star review (probably 5-stars, but he didn't like the swear words some of my rougher characters say now and then, haha!) for my new novel Thawing A.C. Nielsen. It's in its 2nd week in a row on Amazon top 100 lists. With that said, I still need crowd-sourcing (that's you!) help getting publicity for this! Remember, sharing is caring, and I'll be so happy if you do! E-version only $2.99 for awhile... http://amzn.to/2bULRD1 

Here's the book on Amazon

Thanks for reading-hope you can share!

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Thawing A.C. Nielsen--Sharing Ch 33

This afternoon I'm sharing chapter 33 of "Thawing A.C. Nielsen". I hope you'll read it. I'm trying to share a chapter or two a day, although at some point I will have to take them all down as the book starts to go to press.

 Very excited! My new novel, Thawing A.C. Nielsen, is now up and available for "pre-sale" (just $2.99 for Kindle or other ebook format, then price goes up before the holidays) on Kindle here:

http://amzn.to/2bULRD1
  
Selling like crazy- please go to that link and consider ordering the ebook or at least sharing the info with other book enthusiasts! It's already hitting top 100 various genre lists on Amazon!


Newly posted there-- a 5-star review from one of the top reviewing companies! Until it goes "live for sale" there won't be any customer reviews or samples-- that happens Oct. 18th. There will also be a paperback version up soon. Check it out and please spread the word. I need all the publicity help I can get since I am not giving away my book to a mainstream publishing house!

I am wondering if any of you would consider reviewing the book. It will be released on Amazon/Kindle on October 18th. I need reviews from regular folks posted to amazon on the release day, if possible. You get a FREE pdf, word.doc or .mobi (Kindle ebook file) copy and plenty of time between now and mid-October to read it. Let me know, friends!


Kate thinks cryo is curing cancer, could it be true? But how exactly? Some cool stuff about crogenically treated guitar strings in here (true stuff)!



CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

May 2014

“All right, everyone,” Kate said. “You all know that Edouard and I have been getting a plan ready to revive Mr. Nielsen. We have made major revisions to the mix of chemicals and vitamins in the womb therapy bath. On the side, I have been trying to figure out why cryo is turning sick patients into healthy ones. Something happened a couple months ago that helped confirm some of my own observations.”

“What have you got, Kate? I’m excited to see,” Norm asked.

“Well, I’ve brought in my guitar-playing friend Patrick Flynn to provide some music to go along with my fancy slide show.” Patrick nodded to the little ExitStrategy audience. “Patrick, can you entertain us with a bit of music on your guitar?” Patrick smiled and launched into some improv on the Rodrigo Guitar Concerto. It was quite beautiful and everyone clapped when he finished.

“Gorgeous,” Edouard shouted. “I love that piece.”

“And now,” Kate said, “Patrick will play the same thing on the other guitar he has with him today.” Once again, Patrick brought out the gorgeous, melancholy themes of Rodrigo’s masterpiece. Another round of applause.

“That was even more amazing. Is that like a zillion-dollar guitar or something?” Miles asked.
“Nope,” Patrick said. “Same brand, just a slightly different model. No real difference. Of course, you’d normally play this on a classical, but Kate wanted to use these guitars with the metal strings.”

“It sounded so much richer. Were you playing with a different technique or something?” Mike asked.

“Not really, a few different notes here and there, that’s all.”

“So next I’m going to show you images from my favorite microscope now,” Kate continued. “Take a look—these are magnifications of the strings from guitar number one. And here are images from the strings of guitar number two. I can even show them to you side by side. Here.”

“Whoa. So one guitar has crap strings and the other one has more expensive strings on it?” Chrissy asked, noticing the irregular surfaces and nasty crags on the first sample, and the virtually perfect crystalline alignment of the metal alloys in the strings from guitar number two.

“Nope. Same strings—same manufacturer. Both are new sets of strings. Patrick’s put in an hour of playing on each of them, tops.”

“Wild. So what’s going on?” Edouard sat up straighter in his chair, his enthusiasm gaining.
“The first set of strings are straight from the package,” said Kate. “The second set was identical until I got my hands on them. I cryo’d them for sixteen hours.”

“What the hell—cryo did that? In sixteen hours? It blew away all the crap we could see at this magnification?” asked Miles. “And the sound difference was totally noticeable. Right, everyone?”
“And, get this,” said Kate. “I learned this from Patrick after he had bought a set of commercially cryo’d guitar strings. Musicians know about this. Who’da thunk, right? I talked to the string company in California and they told me all about it. All right, next group of images. Hey, Patrick, maybe some awesome background music, please?”

“Sure, no problem. How about some Django Reinhardt-style jazz?”

“Sure,” said Kate. “Now here, folks, are plain old photos of Mr. T’s abdomen after he was revived. No tumors, right? We all know that. I went further, however. The next images are on the cellular level from that same abdominal area, plus DNA images. What do you see?”

“We’re not microbiologists, Kate. Help us out,” said Chrissy.

“Miles?” Kate asked.

“This can’t be Mr. T, Kate,” he answered.

“I assure you it is.”

“These are all perfect cells, totally clean,” said Miles. “There are zero defects, zero signs of free radical damage, and so on. Your DNA images show perfect genomic stability. This looks like a guinea pig that’s, I don’t know, a couple months old?”

“Yet I assure you,” said Kate, “these are images I took of Mr. T before he died. Apparently the cryo returns systems to their correct form, like a Platonic universal. Cryo acts on problems—if it detects matter that isn’t, shall we say, natural and expected—true to design, you might say—it fixes things. Anything less than optimal gets realigned perfectly or it’s eliminated, vaporized. It’s like cryo knows what’s right and what’s wrong whether we’re talking about metal alloys in guitar strings or cells in a living animal. And you can look for leukemia cells in John Cougar all day if you like, but there won’t be any.”

“You’d have to catch him first. That cat is so fast and frisky!” Norm said.

“So, we’ve discovered a cure for cancer, and other diseases, like we thought might be true?” Mike asked.

“I think we happened upon a cure, Mike, in all honesty,” said Kate. “But I think they still award Nobel prizes to lucky fools like us.” Everyone laughed.

“Of course, we still have puzzles,” Kate said. “How is it that John Cougar has no prion disease like the guinea pigs had? He’s perfectly healthy. He’s got the Amman Vishwanathan seal of approval. I’m still trying to figure out that part.”

“This is amazing, truly amazing, Kate. I am happy beyond belief.” Mike walked up to Kate and gave her an epic hug. “So what’s next? Where does this put us?”

“I think it means that when we start to revive Mr. Nielsen tomorrow, that we can pretty much, fingers crossed, expect to find that his lung cancer is gone, and that his cirrhosis is gone, too. The only other odd factor here is that, like I mentioned, the cryo doesn’t seem to effect a cure for prion disease. Not sure why. Maybe we’ll be lucky and Mr. Nielsen will be just like the cat, prion-free. But anyway, there’s a cure being developed, right?”

“I’m guessing prion disease is just too weird and too nasty an hombre, Kate,” Edouard said. “Plus, your friends in Iceland told you the prions love to do their destruction in shifting temperatures. They’re thriving in this arena.”

“That sounds reasonable. We wouldn’t really know without a year or two of research, anyway. Speaking of which, we need to start thinking about when and to who we are going to take our bizarre discoveries to. We need partners for all this. Major universities or institutions? Edouard, Miles, start brainstorming, okay? Anyway, we’re good to go for tomorrow. I thought you all would love to see this as we get ready. Mike, have you polished up your MRI? It’s going to get plenty of use soon.”

“It’s good to go, Kate. I’ll bet Professor Bardeen is probably smiling down on us from heaven right now.”