Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Tales from the Sock Drawer: Donald the Pangolin



Did you know I have a pangolin living in my sock drawer? It’s true. His name is Donald, and he spends his time brooding in a corner, obsessively playing his mandolin while the rest of us stick our collective fingers in our ears.

We got off to a bit of a bad start, old Donald and I. Seems I once referred to him as a spiny anteater when introducing him to a friend. I honestly don’t remember doing it. In fact, I have a sneaking suspicion he invented the whole thing to generate interest in his flagging music career. But I did apologize. Eventually.

I just wish he’d move away so I wouldn’t have to listen to his god-awful mandolin playing any longer. I know the progressive hipster types out there are content to sit there and be amazed he can play an instrument at all. But I’m telling you, the guy stinks. Not only does he lack feeling, but he has absolutely no sense of rhythm. Throw in his love for cheesy 80’s pop, and you have a recipe for something truly horrible. Seriously, six minutes into Donald the Pangolin’s extended version of Phil Collins ‘Easy Lover’ and you’ll be looking for a gun. (to shoot yourself with)

And it’s not as if you can tell him any of this because he’ll either scratch your face or roll up into a ball, depending on his mood. I'm telling you: Pangolins. Yeesh!

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Tales From the Sock Drawer: Little Ralphie Ning

I used to like Little Ralphie.  He's one of those genuinely nice guys: someone who'll always say 'hi', even if it means crossing the road.  When he discovered I was writing a book, he took a real interest in how it was progressing, asking to read the various drafts and posing all sorts of questions about the back story.  It made me feel good.

So when Ralphie asked me whether I thought he should try writing a novel too, I told him, 'absolutely'.  Every second Tuesday he would e-mail me what he'd written, and I would respond with 'awesome!', along with a quick note on how he could make something better.  Never once did I think it would actually go anywhere. After all, I was the writer with the quirky imagination.  He was just a kid with a stupid story about vampire mermaids.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered he'd snagged himself an agent.  Now he was the one offering me encouragement while I sat at home wondering if this whole writing thing was a waste of time.  And if that wasn't bad enough I just discovered his book is due to be published this Spring.

Outside I pretend to be happy for Little Ralphie's success, but inside I hate him.

Friday, August 17, 2012

My Novel, Escaping Entry, is Free Today!

If you like four-armed demons, omnivorous bulls and thousand foot giants, you'll love Escaping Entry.

You can download it free in the US and Canada here.

You can download it free in the UK here.

Have a lovely day, and careful walking the stairs.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Tales From the Sock Drawer: Philip Tumba

Philip Tumba is a member of the Bulgoni Tribe.

Bulgonis are famous for starting life as senior citizens, aging backwards until approximately the age of forty-one, and then spending the rest of their lives aging like everyone else.

Meaning Philip Tumba is either three years old or eighty-five.

(I'm too embarrassed to ask.)

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Tales From the Sock Drawer: Vince O'Malley

Vince O'Malley always had a knack for the scientifical, yet for whatever reason never pursued it.  Then one day he decided to enter my Sock Drawer's Annual Science Fair.  He did surprisingly well, placing third with a display showing what happens if you leave a nail in a container of cola. (it dissolves, apparently)  For someone who had never competed in anything before in his life, this was a huge achievement.

Unfortunately he didn't have long to enjoy his time in the sun: he'd only just received his commemorative plaque when his future-self jumped out of a time machine and viciously attacked him with a 2x4, nearly beating himself to death before escaping back to wherever it was he came from.

Vince vowed revenge, and once he was released from hospital he immediately began teaching himself everything he needed to know to build a working time machine.  His plan, you see, was to inflict the same damage to his attacker as he'd received that fateful afternoon, right down to blindsiding him while he was accepting his very first science award.

Perhaps if he'd been less angry he would have understood how pointless the whole thing was; he was only hurting himself, after all.  But he felt it was his destiny, and the moment he finished his time machine he was gone, setting in motion a vicious circle that even to this day I'm not certain I understand.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Tales From the Sock Drawer: Katie the Book Blogger

It is my experience that to be a book blogger you must a) be named Katie b) profess a love for chocolate and c) have a deep and abiding hatred for people who mix up 'they're' and 'their'.

Katie the Book Blogger is all of these.

In fact, her hatred for the grammatically challenged has turned her into a serial killer, stabbing them to death and stacking their severed heads in a pile as a grim warning to those who would continue butchering the English language.

I assumed her fellow book bloggers would be horrified by her actions.  Instead they're quite supportive, even sending her the names and addresses of grammar offenders in the hope she'll sort them out. 

So the next time you're on Facebook and you're commenting on a friend's photo of their darling dog, remember: too has two 'o's in it.  It just might save your life.