The Gigi Epiphany Revisited

 I sent a post about my wife’s cat to my friend Greg at Alterthecourse.com several months ago after he asked me to write about an epiphany…

A few days ago I went on a business trip and when I opened my suitcase I realized my cat had peed on my clothes…offering further proof of my  theory that cats are smarter (and more evil) than people… Don’t believe me? Read on :)

The text of my original post:

My tweep Greg asked me to do a guest post on his ultra funny blog, AlterTheCourse.com. I love Greg’s humor, so I was flattered. I didn’t know there was a funny person in Wisconsin. I remain shocked. I believe my instructions were to share an epiphany.  Lately I’ve had to make money to pay for these things called children, so my capacity for insight has been limited.  But, the other day I had an epiphany worth sharing. It’s not relativity, but it’s close.  It happened after the family cat taught me a lesson.

My epiphany is animals (especially cats) are smarter than people.

“No way!” You say? Think about it. There is plenty of evidence. Have you ever seen a deer walk into a school brandishing a semi-automatic weapon? Have you ever seen a dog text while driving? Have you ever seen a goldfish squander a paycheck on lottery tickets? Not me. In addition, I’ve never read a single story about a rabbit running a ponzi scheme, or a beaver sexting a pic of his pelt. Further, after an extensive Google search, I can reliably report there is no evidence that chipmunks are organizing their resources to build a nuclear weapon. To me, it’s obvious. Animals are simply smarter than people. Sure they eat each other, but it’s only because they’re hungry, and haven’t learned how to apply for food stamps, yet.

The specific event that triggered my epiphany happened last week after I returned from Cape Cod with my family. We had taken a four-day vacation. Normally, our cat, Gigi, would have gone to the Cape with us. But, we brought a friend, so there was no room in our car and we refused to do a Mitt Romney by strapping Gigi to the roof rack. Ultimately, being good pet owners, we explained the situation to Gigi. We then put out ten pounds of cat food out, set the central air to 72F, and left the 24-Hour Mouse Channel on our the large screen TV.

All the niceness didn’t matter. When we returned Gigi was angry. In fact, she had left goodies in every corner of our house, mostly shit and mangled mice. Plus, somehow she put a bunny head in our bed.

Some background. Gigi ended up in our house because I married a woman who forgot kittens become cats. Gigi was a stray, so she knows how to survive. Her specialty is playing cute for food. Her goal is to get on your lap so she can emit her special purr that subliminally repeats the word ‘tuna.’

Everyone loves Gigi, but me, for I’m on to her act. For years she has been trying to isolate me from my family by vying for their limited affection. She particularly likes tripping me, so I’ll swear at her and cause my family to rise in unison to her defense. She knows I know what she is doing, but I always let it slide, confident that Gigi is nothing more than a pathetic cat.

The exact moment of my epiphany was eight o’clock in the morning, the day after we returned from Cape Cod. I was in bed with my wife. When I awoke Gigi was six inches from my nose. She was staring at me. And, I smelled something terrible.

After gathering my senses I suddenly realized Gigi had shit on our brand new white comforter. And it wasn’t a normal shit. Gigi had dragged her ass across our puffy blanket in an apparent attempt to shit write the words ‘Helter Skelter!’ or  ‘Redrum!’

I was ecstatic. My opportunity had arrived to euthanize my long-standing nemesis.

My wife freaks out if I wear shoes in the house. So, I was convinced shit on her brand new white comforter would make her go postal.

“Honey,” I yelled. “Gigi has shit on the new comforter. Look!”

My wife rolled over and woke up. She looked at the mess and her face went red.

“Look!” I said. “Look! Look what Gigi the cat has done!”

Gigi was present. She looked at me. I detected a smile.

“Oh my god!” my poor wife finally yelled. “Gigi must be sick!”

I was shocked.

If I shit on the bed, even if I was terminally ill, my wife would have executed me or at least hit me with a frying pan, but Gigi the cat can ass-draw graffiti on our brand new white comforter and somehow extract sympathy.

I was speechless.

Gigi climbed on to my wife’s lap and purred.

“Poor, Gigi.” My wife said as she patted her cat.

Gigi looked at me long and slow, and then snickered – I swear to God.

I had been had.

Later that day, after a few cold ones, it hit me, my epiphany…animals are smarter than people.

W4$

 

 

Greed is good!

W4$ 2014 Goal: AM/FM Radio. Status = MET!

W4$ 2014 Goal: AM/FM Radio. Status = MET!

Hi all. I’m writing to update you on my authoring adventure and share some good news. Believe it or not, thanks to The Awkward Detective: The Bone Donor, now available at Amazon.com for ninety-nine cents, I have already met my 2014 financial objective of earning enough royalty income to purchase an AM/FM clock radio.

What can I tell you? Greed is good.

Yesterday, after hours of online shopping I purchased a SONY, model ICFC218.

I went with the ICFC218 because it has big numbers, which I need, for something has happened to my vision in recent years that has limited my perception of detail. In fact, without using my sense of smell, regardless of distance, I would not be able to pick Gisele Bundchen out of a police line-up that included: Peter Lorre, Elmo, a naked cowboy, and Alan Dershowitz.

My parents, god rest their souls, told me to never brag. But, it is difficult given the extent of my success. In 2013, I far exceeded my expectations by earning enough royalty income to purchase a Taco Meal for Five. And now, with almost a half a year to go, I’m  in possession have my precious AM/FM clock radio. Life is good!

If I was ever asked what has led to my astounding success, having written 6 novels in 2 years, I would be tempted to attribute my stardom to hard work, but the truth is it’s all about greed-fueled ambition – the want of material things!

W4$ 2013 Goal: Taco Meal for 5. Status= MET!

W4$ 2013 Goal: Taco Meal for 5. Status= MET!

Having made this admission, my greed is in need of a new target. Thus, the time has come for me to set my 2015 financial goal (or risk never writing another word.)

Selecting my new goal has been a difficult task, but after much thought, I’ve decided upon a theme of self-aggrandizement, a variation of self-promotion, in selecting the next object of my desire.

Originally, I was going to go with a “W4$” ass tattoo.  But I after considerable thought, I abandoned this goal for I feared  the inevitable revelation of this artwork, inch above my furry ass crack, would likely result in the total loss of my fan base.

Consequently, moving forward, I’ve decided to pursue a “W4$” Mr. T Starter Kit, to include: a W4$ diamond studded tooth grill and a gold ganstah necklace anchored by a W4$ logo, containing, at minimum, 1 troy ounce of pure gold.

W4$ 2015 Goal: The Mr. T "I pity the fool" W4$ Starter Kit

W4$ 2015 Goal: The Mr. T “I pity the fool” W4$ Starter Kit

In response to your screams of “Impossible Wright! Don’t do it! Be more realistic!” I counter with the prediction that the second installment in my Awkward Detective series,THE CHIPMUNK FACTOR, due out this Christmas, will be a hit, making my dreams of being the next Lil Wayne+ come true.

Where will all this ambition end? It’s difficult to say. But, last night I had a dream about a pretty blonde-haired lady, a pink Mercedes and a house with an ocean view…
W4$


THE BONE DONOR

TheBoneDonorCover300
My last two books tanked. So, now I’m in danger of missing my 2014 financial goal of earning enough royalty income to purchase an AM/FM clock radio. Accordingly, I felt obliged to publish yet another novel. This one is called THE BONE DONOR.

Unlike my other books, that feature almost incomprehensible plots, THE BONE DONOR is my attempt to reach more readers by writing something a wise-ass teenager could comprehend.

Featuring the dark humor of yours truly, THE BONE DONOR deploys a simple linear plot to tell the story of Jason Mashburn, a twenty something who learns love can be murder when the girl of his dreams falls victim to a rare blood disease…

I’m not sure how to categorize THE BONE DONOR. So, I’m calling it a dark romance/mystery/thriller, which means everybody should love this book, or I’m facing a insurmountable competition. Time will tell :)

THE BONE DONOR was specifically written to be read from a beach chair. It contains 42,000 words and is rated PG-13. Only available at Amazon.com

THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED

W4$TheAgitationCover400Since I’m a persistent son of a gun, due to the unpopularity of my last novel, the sex comedy, THE GENERAL STORE, I’ve decided to foist another ebook upon my massive fan base. This time it’s YA fiction. The book is called THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED.

All my books come to me in a flash. THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED was no exception. I was sitting in a high school auditorium, listening to a concert, thinking about the Sandy Hook tragedy, when this book hit me, including its title. In the following days, I wrote THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED. I then shelved it because I wasn’t sure it was fit for publication. I was concerned about offending victims of school violence, especially since THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED was written for a young adult audience. But, after reading it a couple times, I think the book’s message outweighs its story. Ultimately, I’ll leave it to others to be the judge. I’d allow my teenagers to read it, but I never said I was a great parent…The good news is I’m fairly certain THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED is less offensive than my 5-star religious satire, BILLY GRIST, but what isn’t?

This all being said, at this exact moment, I feel my prior publication concerns are misplaced. For in the end, I figure, THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED is just a book. Thus, like any book, it can be put down like a rabid dog. No read. No foul.

Hopefully, all this false angst has piqued your interest. If so, read on, for below is the blurb for THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED, which has been written to inspire related commerce at Amazon.com. Please note when purchasing THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED, all income will go directly to me, an independent author seeking to fulfill his life-long dream of generating enough royalty income to purchase an AM/FM clock radio, and a cranberry leisure suit.

THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED

Renny Sneed is trying to survive ninth grade, but the odds are against him. He’s tiny, and he lacks social skills. Plus, he has a squeaky voice, crooked teeth, acne, and a brother who ignores him. Even worse, the Snarp twins, mindless jocks, are bullying Renny, and nobody seems to care. The situation appears to be hopeless, but then the noble son of an Iraq war veteran arrives at school, a Texan named Johnny Goldin. Johnny befriends Renny, and Renny experiences happiness for the first time in his life. But, the good times are cut short by a tragedy.

Alone and scared, Renny turns to the adults in his life, but they don’t sense his desperation. Among the clueless is Renny’s stepdad, Dewey Grint. Dewey is a doomsday prepper who is too worried about the upcoming global apocalypse to help his lost stepson. Depressed, Renny turns to his long-time imaginary friend, and X-box avatar, Sergeant Bark, for help. Ever ready and ultra-confident, the good sergeant assures Renny all his problems can be easily resolved via the liberal application of automatic weaponry. And soon thereafter, the battle begins. After watching SpongeBob, and eating a good breakfast, of course…

From the author of BILLY GRIST, THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED is a young adult novella. It contains 25,000 words, slightly less than THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA. It is rated PG-13.

The General Store

W4$TheGeneralStoreCoverFlat400
Howdy all. I re-wrote the novella I released last year called THE GENERAL STORE because it stunk. The new novel-length version of this comic fiction masterpiece will be available at your favorite ebook store on 10-9-13. Now, its only fault is excessive humor. Below is the official blurb of version 3.72390 of THE GENERAL STORE…

THE GENERAL STORE is a wicked sex comedy about what happens when small-town folks start minding their neighbors’ funny business.
Set in Apple, Massachusetts, the laughs begins when Mayor Happy Munson betrays yet another “friend.” But this time, it’s an old man with the money and brains to get even. Helping the old man seek revenge is Jebediah Jones, the well-endowed owner of the General Store who has been arrested for, literally, hanging out. Offended parties include Luke Keegle and his mother, Doris. Luke is an Internet whiz kid, a devout Christian, and owner of ColdPray.com, the web’s destination spot for purchasing “chastity wear.” Doris Keegle is the chairman of the town’s restoration committee. She wants to return Apple’s countryside to its original state. Her main target is the personal dump of her next door neighbor and Apple’s legendary biker bad boy, Rake Davis, who has been half-burying his old Ford pick-up trucks for decades. Bradford Bender, the town’s best and only lawyer, has been hired to fix the mess, but Sally Munson, the first lady of Apple and a registered martial arts instructor, is opposing him. And, she’s not going down without a fight. Also in the fray are the world’s most famous environmentalists, Crunchy and Macrame Montana, who are fighting to save the eeeking plover, a tiny bird whose near extinction has been carefully chronicled by the town’s historian, a socially awkward man named Bruce Pane who is living with an inflatable lover named Ms. Wheezy…

THE GENERAL STORE is Wright Forbucks’ pathetic attempt to author a mainstream comedy that will generate sufficient income to purchase a bean burrito and a small Mountain Dew.
Other works by Wright Forbucks include THE WALKING MAN, BILLY GRIST and EVEN STEVEN.
Please note: THE GENERAL STORE is Rated R due to crass language (85 F bombs) and sexual content. It contains 59,000 words.

Fenway Magic Gen 2

Howdy all. Just rambling today. I went to a Red Sox game last week. It was thursday, I believe. There was a downpour, mid eighth. Neil Diamond was singing, Sweet Caroline. It was a memory. While drying I told my kids the song was about Caroline Kennedy. I think I was right, but I don’t carry a iPhone to fact check my bullshit. No wonder my poor kids still think Jimmy Carter is president. The rain delay was thirty-nine minutes, so we did a seat upgrade, tenth row behind third base. We saw Daniel Nava slide in to home plate. He was safe. The umpire called him out. I think he did it to send a message. Listen up, Nava. Real Daniels refer to themselves as “Dan.” There’s nothing like a good blown call. It was the first time my sons heard the word, F*#! screamed in thirty languages. By the ninth I had spent $150 on hot dogs et al. No regrets. It was all worth it. We had a time, even though the Red Sox lost.

Looking back, when I was a kid, before the first Star Wars movie, I went to many Red Sox games. I took the Green Line from Newton. Game tickets cost fifty cents. It was the seventies. You could drink as many big beers as you could carry and they didn’t ask for an ID unless you were wearing an Elmo T-Shirt. I once saw a Yankees fan get stabbed in the ass. It was a jack knife, so nobody cared. I liked the old Fenway, but the new family friendly park is cool too. None of my kids know what 6 to 4 to 3 means, but they love going to Fenway to watch people dance when they appear on the jumbo screen. They also like the Fenway sushi, foam fingers, and sausage subs (still awesome). I’m not bashing the scene. It’s just the way it is. I think it’s progress, but I’m not sure.

After the game, the announcer informed us there was a “hazardous building situation” outside the park, not wanting 36,000 people to hear the word, “fire.” Ultimately this meant we could not exit Fenway to Brookline Ave. Consequently, our only option was to travel back to the bleachers where we were pushed on to Lansdowne Street, which was capped by a cluster of fire trucks surrounded by police officers . We could not see fire or smell smoke. My theory was Boston’s finest where using the ladder trucks to catch the end of the game. Regardless, the situation required me to walk two miles with a ten year old on my back to reach the Fenway T-Station. To my kids, it was just another part of their great adventure.

The following day I asked my sons if they want to play catch. They said, “no!” but they noted they couldn’t wait to go back to Fenway Park. Hmmm, such is the state of magic, gen ipod’s image of baseball: tweeting to the jumbo screen operator, pink hats, and dad complaining about $8.50 Bud Lights.

W4$

P.S. Go Red Sox! Esp. J Gomes!

Wright Re-writing Right

Howdy. The rumor that I was killed by angry jihadi, due to my last best-seller, BILLY GRIST, is not true…Nobody told me it was a bad idea to poke fun at Muhammad…Some people just can’t take a joke…

I’m dropping a blog post to let my fan(s) know I have not given up. In fact, I’m currently re-writing THE GENERAL STORE. My goal is to turn this messy and naughty little novella into a comic fiction masterpiece, which, to me, means selling ten copies. Worth noting, to amp its hilarity, I’ve added 20,000 words and a couple new plot twists to THE GENERAL STORE. Thus, to prevent guffaw related injuries, I’m currently advising potential readers to avoid hot drinks while consuming this novel and to also consider the co-purchase body control underwear to address the high probability of laughter-induced incontinence.

My head is Irish thick, so most often I need to be hit by a car before learning how to cross a street. Being so, to date, my enlightenment related to novel writing has been controlled by a stingy dimmer switch. Nonetheless, producing three novels has taught me a few things. I now write while thinking about my reader(s) and I’ve stopped rushing to meet self-imposed deadlines for I now believe a good book can’t be hurried. This means while I re-write the GENERAL STORE if the words don’t feel right, even if I don’t know why, I hit the delete key. It’s my hope this iterative process will finally yield a novel that will gain readership via word of mouth. We’ll see. My fondest hope is your average e-book reader will be sufficiently entertained by THE GENERAL STORE, to tell a friend about this funny and well-written comedy about an old man with a big one, a really big one…

Currently, I plan to re-publish the re-written THE GENERAL STORE some time this year, probably November.

Stay tooned.
W4$

The Wright Stuff?

My May 2013 book sales are in, and the results are not good. I’ve experienced a precipitous decline in sales.
I sold 3 books and the launch of BILLY GRIST was a thorough bomb. I could not even give away copies of BILLY GRIST. I did an Amazon.com 5-day freebie with advertising, listings, etc. and got a whopping 88 downloads. Poor W4$ used to get thousands :)

I could blame the Amazon.com algorithm or some other crazy factor for my poor sales, but I think something else is going on here…My books suck. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think they totally suck, especially BILLY GRIST, but they suck enough not to sell, which to me is the definition of sucking enough. I say this because I consider sales the only true means of assessing a book’s value. (The Forbucks only do things that make money.)

So…all that I can do is write better books, which I intend to do. Until then I’m crawling into my writing cave for when you’re an independent author it makes little sense to market books that aren’t good enough to cause word-of-mouth sales.

So…W4$ fan(s) look for THE GENERAL STORE some time in 2013 and THE AGITATION OF RENNY SNEED in 2014. They will be better books, for sure. Good enough to sell? Who knows, but that’s part of the fun!

Until then W4$ is offline.

Chuckles for Dollars

Per one of my recent pathetic tweets, I have formally declared myself a “humorist” because the more descriptive term, “snide asshole,” is bad for marketing, or so I’ve been told. FYI, being a self-declared humorist, I’m now officially free to poke fun at any given topic, not just ebook publishing. To me, this is the equivalent of coming out of the closet, for the truth is I find just about everything funny and I’m no longer ashamed to admit it.

My new found freedom is good for me for blogging about random crap fits my current schedule, which is dominated by the execution of menial tasks designed to generate the income needed to pay for the mess I’ve created – otherwise known as children.

So, here’s how my new blog works. I write about whatever pops into my head. You laugh hysterically and then buy all my books. I call it chuckles for dollars. My objective is to earn enough money to buy my youngest son a Death Star Lego, for I’m old, thus way past the stage of wanting a trophy wife and a pink Mercedes with kelly green hubcaps…

The thing that I’m finding funny at this moment is dieting. I just decided to go on my first ever diet. Prior to being 54 I was thin before my metabolism changed and a prolonged Oreo bender turned me into yet another son of the Pillsbury Doughboy. Currently, I weigh 215 pounds. I have to get down to 195 or the annual premium on my life insurance will exceed the price of a Faneuil Hall toll house cookie (a local joke)…

Being a real man, I don’t spend any time thinking about the consequences of my pending actions. Thus, the only way I gain wisdom is by assessing carnage. Being so, looking back, I should have realized I needed to lose some weight. The signs were there, which leads me to the ultimate objective of this blog, the presentation of a countdown list, the only known means of generating a viral Internet response that doesn’t involve a video camera and a tube of K-Y Jelly…Yes, it’s the top eleven signs that you need to lose weight…Let the chuckles begin…

11. You apply baby powder to your belly flaps to prevent mushroom growth.
10. You think about Fruity Pebbles more than Kate Upton.
9. Upon viewing a Michelin tire commercial your kids yell, “Hey Mom, Dad’s on TV!”
8. You can’t touch your toes. But you can make your nipples touch each other.
7. You subscribe to Bloomberg TV to monitor the wholesale price of cookie dough.
6. You mark Ben and Jerry’s birthdays on your calendar.
5. You can store a Charleston Chew in your naval.
4. You can’t see your boys without putting a mirror on the floor.
3. Your fingertips are permanently orange due to Cheetos consumption.
2. Your snoring removes ceiling tiles.
1. After losing fifteen pounds you swear to God you’ve heard a peanut butter and jelly sandwich scream, “Eat me bitch!”

W4$

My Billy Grist Blurb…

BILLY GRIST is comical parable about the nature of faith. It tells the story of Billy Grist, a man-child who seeks to unite humanity by building a “massive family” only to find his destiny is controlled by a higher power who has other plans for saving mankind…

Part satire, part 9-11 revenge fantasy, BILLY GRIST is narrated by The Great Numero Uno, the leader of the UIUI (Ultra-Intelligent Universe Inspectors) and an avowed misanthropist for having witnessed the evolution of mankind from plankton to our current “sorry” state. The fun begins when the Almighty One reveals His grand plan to The Great Numero Uno, forcing the microscopic egomaniac to relate the story of the world’s ultimate altruist, Billy Grist, to the very people he despises…

Billy is a mulatto born of a deaf father who is obsessed with creating the perfect fruit cocktail, and a gymnast mother who was once capable of “spiking a perfect landing” before growing a noteworthy set of breasts. Billy is also brother to a sister who emits a radiant smile that invokes Beatlemania. Unfortunately, it’s a gift soon quelled by the world’s most wicked disease, Comswalli Nervousa, which causes a wider tragedy that’s eventually capped by an email from the Great Beyond…

Abandoned by God, Billy Grist nonetheless decides to embrace life by using his incredible wealth to build a massive family that includes a broad mix of brothers and sisters. Billy plans to unite the human race, but his noble effort is soon thwarted by a brain-dead terrorist named Calvitor Septor, son of Animus Septor, the inventor of the Jewbie doll, a plush toy with detachable limbs that becomes the must have item within the Middle-Eastern nation of Aridia…

A must-read for Islamic extremists, recently compared to works of Christopher Moore, Vonnegut, and Douglas Adams, BILLY GRIST deploys humor to create a thought-provoking satire that turns sacred cows into hamburger. It’s a recommended read for those willing to embrace the ultimate truth that human beings don’t know jack s@$!! about how or why we were “created.” W4$.

Billy Grist

Billy Grist is FREE at Amazon.com on 5-24-2013

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