Month: April 2019

The Post Crime Spree Sex Was Great. . .

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The Post Crime Spree Sex Was Great. . .

 

The post-crime spree sex was terrific, and I woke up wanting more. It was a Sunday and neither of us planned to work.

“It’ll be nice to have a day together,” said Missy.

Cuddling up, I said, “Won’t it?”

“Yes. It will give us time to talk.”

Something about her tone made me say, “Talking is highly over-rated. I can think of better ways to spend the time.”

“Is that what you told Flower?”

“Aw, man, I knew this was coming.”

I was just surprised it took so long.

“Well, we’ve both been busy, and I wanted to calm down so I didn’t kill you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Let me finish. I was going to say, so I didn’t kill you until I explained why.”

“Ah.”

“Otherwise, I might regret it later.”

“Look, just because Flower is taking care of my ranch and answered the phone a few times, doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“Not necessarily, but it might.”

“So, a moot point.”

Staying non-committal was the smart move.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Did you have sex with her?”

“Do you mean in the Jimmy Carter sense where I had lust?”

“I mean in the carnal sense where you did the deed. And I want the truth.”

I gave her some truth. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask that.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Come on, Missy. Only a dick would hurt your feelings by admitting it.”

“You’d rather be the kind of dick that hopes I don’t find out about it.”

That sounded a lot like me. Also, like another thing I didn’t want to admit. Lying was useful but frowned upon—but wasn’t lying the honorable thing to do when you cheated on your girlfriend and didn’t wanna hurt her feelings? It’s not?  Why do ethics have to be so confusing?

Missy saved me from further anguish. “Flower already told me.”

It was time to fess up. “She must have been fantasizing. You can’t really blame her.”

Missy rolled her eyes. “Actually, she said she forced herself on you. That you only gave in out of mercy.”

“Really?”

Missy answered with narrowed eyes.

“I mean, would that make a difference?”

That’s when Missy gave up the frontal assault and resorted to something much worse. Logic.

“I suppose you’d like me to be merciful, too. Just let the whole subject slide.”

“Man, would I!” is what I almost shouted. However, I sensed a subtler response would be appreciated. So I went with, “To err is human, to forgive divine.”

“That’s what I’ve heard. So you’d feel divine if some lonely fella needed my tender mercies?”

As usual, Missy had been one step ahead of me the whole time. It was impossible to admit I’d feel divine if she slept with another guy. At least with a straight face.

When I didn’t answer, Missy smiled and said, “Good.”

It was too late to say anything now. It would only make me look worse. And as bad as I looked already, I quit while I was behind.

 

If you haven’t already grabbed it, start the Senor Bueno Travel Adventure series with a Free Copy of Turning On

Happy 420!

Posted by mike good on

Happy 420!

 

I hope you’re celebrating 420 by enjoying your personal liberties. It’s kinda like the 4th of July, but with joints instead of fireworks. If you like reading, laughing, and getting high, you’ll love my upcoming book Controlling Chaos!

 

happy420!

 

Check out this fun excerpt and see what I mean:

 

With six giant plots to develop, Tom and I were overwhelmed. We needed help, lots of it. That meant, for better or worse, teaming up with the Gump Boys.

Though the Boys were eager and well-intentioned, without expert supervision on a regular—better make that constant—basis, we wouldn’t see the kind of results we wanted. Clearly, the Gumps were better suited to moonshining than growing pot. Not that growing pot was tricky, but even simple things like digging holes, proved, well, difficult for the average Gump and impossible for the rest.

To get things started, Tom and I made example holes. We dug down a couple feet, turned the soil over, gave our holes a two-foot diameter. With no rocks and the soil so soft, it took two minutes.

“Got it?” I asked.

Booger shook his head. “Shee-it, Huck, that ain’t no hole.”

“It’s not?”

“You done filled it back up. A real hole don’t got nothing in it.”

Tom laughed. “He’s got you there.”

After a little back and forth the Gump Boys agreed to humor me regarding the terminology.

I confused them again when I said, “Make the holes about this size and about six feet apart.”

“All of them?” ask Goober.

“Well, yeah, on average.”

“What if there’s a tree?” asked Cooter Gump.

That was a good question. We’d already covered it more than once, but obviously, not enough.

“Skip a space or two and start on the other side.”

“Why don’t we cut the trees down?”

We’d already covered that, too. I sighed and said, “They’re our camouflage. We want our plots to look as natural as possible, not like corn fields.”

“Don’t you like corn?”

“Love it.”

Goober wanted clarification. “Just not growing it?”

Always the patient teacher, I answered calmly. “Aarrgh. . .”

It went on like that in all the plots. Booger and Goober’s teams grasped the concepts the best. The other two teams? Hardly at all. After Booger and Goober, the brain pool really dropped off. To be honest, even before. Turbo was next in line when it came to coherence, but that wasn’t saying much. Something I learned on an early inspection tour. Tom and I rode along as Turbo guided us through the swamps. I rode in front, mesmerized by the scenery. The marshlands were pristine, looking like they had for eons. Startled great blue herons flew from the shallows as we passed. Ospreys roosted atop tall trees. We caught fleeting glimpses of snakes, gators, muskrat, raccoon, nutria, wild pigs, and deer. Where unpolluted by man, Chaos had some beautiful scenery. It would still be beautiful in July and August, only I wouldn’t appreciate it then.

Twenty minutes later, I said, “Turbo, these here holes are fine.”

“Well, all righty, then!”

“But how come these holes are right next to each other?”

Possum Gump fielded that one. “Uh. . .”

“Turbo, weren’t you supposed to make sure everyone was on the same page.”

Turbo shrugged. “We wuzn’t reading a book, Huck.”

Possum added, “Not that we could.”

We visited team leader Spud’s plot the next day. Despite our samples, he and brother Dexter had themselves a little competition, seeing who could dig the deepest holes. Our crack staff’s inability to coordinate something as simple as digging holes did not bode well for the overall project. Something I mentioned to Tom that evening.

“Working with the Gump Boys seemed like a great idea, but in practice, well. . .”

Tom took a gulp of beer. “Tell me about it.”

“We could use some qualified help.”

Tom nodded. “That’s for damn sure. You have anyone in mind?”

“Yes, I do, but I’m not sure if they’ll come. At least, voluntarily.”

“You came.”

“Yeah, but I was desperate. Plus, you extorted me. And even then, it was an act of faith.”

Tom puffed up. “I told you we could grow great pot here.”

“Yeah, Tom, you did. Thank God you were right, because I did not want to strangle you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“But I wasn’t sure we shared the same definition of great pot. But now,” I said, as I pulled a tasty bud out of a Ziploc, “we’ve got convincing evidence.”

 

If you haven’t already started the hilarious Señor Bueno Travel Adventure series, grab a Free Copy of Turning On and get started now!

Hang Gliding on Maui

Posted by mike good on

ñññHang Gliding On Maui, An Excerpt from Controlling Chaos

 

Check out this fun excerpt from Controlling Chaos. To set it up, my girlfriend Missy, on vacation from her home in Stinky Hollow, Chaos, is seeing Maui for the first time.

 

A few short months ago, during the glorious rush following a successful harvest, I looked forward to another grow season in Chaos. But now, after scoring my dream ranch, I pondered a new plan: Overwhelm Missy with Maui’s charms, get her to move there.

 

Though Maui is all but irresistible, it’d take a serious effort, given how determined Missy was to control Chaos. Which is not an easy task—by any definition. As a fellow philanthropist, I had to admire someone dedicated to making the world a better place.

 

Perhaps it was selfish of me to want Missy for myself, but if you knew Missy Gump, you wouldn’t blame me. She was as smart and funny as she was good-looking, and that’s really saying something. She’d only passed the bar exam a year ago, and already she’d saved a small town from ruin. Picture Daisy Duke, then make her a genius. Selfish or not, I planned to make sure Missy had the time of her life. Also, wheedle like a man possessed.

 

I asked, “Why can’t someone else clean up Chaos?

 

“I don’t know, sweetie. Why can’t someone else raise world consciousness?”

 

There it was, a bothersome conflict in our worldviews. I was hoping to remedy that with good times and brainwashing. Joints would help. Me, anyway. Missy partook only sparingly, which I saw as part of the problem. Girls are much harder to brainwash when not stoned. Not that I didn’t give it my best effort. I tried to enlist Tom in my plan, but he wanted me returning with him to Chaos.

 

“Oh, look,” said Missy, pointing at a couple of hang gliders circling Mick’s property. Mick’s place had a huge lawn out front and friends with a death wish used it as a landing zone. “Doesn’t that look like fun?”

 

I nodded. “Serious fun.”

 

And it surely was. Not for me, but for someone with no sense of fear. No reason to let Missy think her boyfriend was scared of heights just because he was. Far as she knew, I was a fanatic for insane adventures. Between you and me? I wasn’t. Her brothers had misinterpreted my screams as I parachuted into the swamp amidst bales of cocaine, and now I had a reputation as a fearless maniac.

 

A few minutes later, the hang gliders spiraled down and landed. It was our friend L.J. and his buddy Lobster. I’m not saying they were nuts, but their idea of fun was driving to the top of Haleakala. . .and then jumping off. After my terrifying adventure with the parachute, if I look down from high places, and by high, I mean anything over twenty feet, my stomach gets all fluttery. I can’t watch a movie with a mountain-climbing scene without turning away. The point is, you’d never catch me hang gliding.

 

Missy told L.J., “That looks exciting.”

 

“Oh, it is. You should try it.”

 

I was thinking: Goddamnit, L.J., when Missy said, “I’d love to!”

 

“Really?” said L.J., giving me a sideways look I didn’t care for.

 

“Well, sure, why wouldn’t I?”

 

“That’s good, ‘cause I know Mikey’s been dying to give it a try.”

 

“I have?”

 

“See? How about you both come tomorrow?”

 

Quick thinker, I said, “Uh. . .”

 

“You’re not afraid, are you?” teased L.J., knowing full well how I felt about heights.

 

Missy answered for me. “Are you kidding? Mikey is fearless. He drove our airboat straight into a storm of bullets! Ignored certain death for both of us, but he saved a planeload of coke and my brothers lives.”

 

That was true, but because I was clumsy, not fearless. Not that I ever mentioned it.

 

L.J.’s eyes lit up with. . .respect? Concern for my sanity? Sadism? “In that case, jumping off a volcano will be child’s play for him.”

 

I considered fessing up, admitting my faux pas with the airboat, but I couldn’t let my girlfriend appear more adventurous than me. Even if it meant hang gliding to death. With friends like Mick and L.J., I’d never live it down.

 

I had a thought, gave it a shot. “I’m not worried about me, L.J., but Missy’s never tried it before.”

 

“Neither have you. Despite many offers.”

 

“How come?” asked Missy, as if shocked.

 

“Oh, I would’ve, but I was too busy doing scary stuff.”

 

L.J. rolled his eyes in. . .agreement?

 

I asked him, “Don’t beginners usually start on a bunny slope or something? You know, like skiing?”

 

L.J. nodded. “They sure do.”

 

I was thinking: Whew! Heart attack averted.

 

Then he added, “But that’s for pussies, not for big-time heroes like you.”

 

Missy put her hands on her hips—her don’t-give-me-any-shit pose. “If Mikey’s going from the top, so am I.”

 

I hate to leave you hanging, but you can find out what happened next when you read Controlling Chaos.

 

Stay tuned for another excerpt next week, and meanwhile, if you haven’t already gotten your copy of Turning On, the hilarious prequel to the Senor Bueno Travel Adventure series, well, jeez, what are you waiting for?

 

Don’t take my word that it’s funny, check out these 5-Star Amazon reviews:

 

Rosemary says: Prepare to be amazed, delighted, dismayed, entertained, excited, frazzled, giddy (with laughter) and fully equipped with incontinence pads.

 

Gary says:  Turning on, set in the turbulent times of the Nixon administration, the Vietnam war, and seeded Mexican pot, could best be described as Hunter Thompson meets Cheech and Chong meets Forrest Gump.

 

Rene says:  This is the beginning and the reason for all of Mike’s travels. You will find yourself laughing out loud frequently. I loved it! You will find yourself needing to get the other books.

 

Join my Reader’s Group and start the fun with a Free Copy of Turning On.