Guest Post Breakeven Books

Today's post is a departure from  me just telling you stories. I  have been attempting to build my network and reach out to writer's and readers on social media.  Erick from breakevenbooks reached out on his Twitter feed and I had to respond.  He has an interview with me on his blog please, please go check him out.  This is my interview with him.

Michael : What is your top read of 2018 so far?

Erick: My top read  of 2018 so far would have to be Release by Patrick Ness. I loved this book so much and I think it will be hard to top it.

Michael: What is your favorite book friendship?

My favourite book friendship is that of Harry Potter and Hermoine Granger.

Michael: Most anticipated book release of 2018?
Erick: It is whatever book comes next by Patrick Ness because I love his writing style.
Michael: How many books are in your TBR Pile?

Erick: There are 72 books in my TBR….I know I am awful and I promise I will get through them. Life happens sometimes. I wish I could just read all day.

Michael: Who is your favorite author?

Pierce Brown 100%. If you don’t know who he is, check him out pronto.

Michael: How did you start blogging?
Erick: I was writing reviews on Goodreads and telling my friends about the books I read and one of them suggested starting a book blog. At first I was nervous to do it because I was worried that I was a bad reviewer but I moved past that and mainly do it for the enjoyment of sharing my opinion about books. And the fantastic book community keeps me going too :).

Michael: Where is your favorite reading spot?

Erick: In my hammock on a sunny day with a glass of lemonade.

Michael: How long have you been a blogger?

I have been a blogger for about 8 months now and have loved every minute of it.

Michael: What do you like about reading?

Erick:I  love that it allows you to escape from the real world when you want to. Sometimes you might feel trapped but when you read, you can go anywhere.

Michael: If you had to describe yourself in a book title, what would it be?
Erick: I would say “Before I Fall” because I am rather clumsy so it is expected.

breakevenbooks.com

Night Terrors and extreme sexiness

I challenged myself to write a story without naming the main character I also wanted to know how short I could make my short story. I REALLY NEED the feedback please comment. 

“So listen  I don't want you to panic, but I think I'm dying.” 
She woke up fast! What the fuck she thought.
“What the fuck!”
 She screamed.
 She had thrown off the covers and her breasts heaved as she began to hyperventilate. Her body was supernal. If her stoner boyfriend had truly been dying, he might still have stared at her honey-colored thighs and button-shaped navel. 
She was just that bad. The fact that either leg ended right above the knee made no difference. She made women question their sexuality daily.
 And “Smokey” had just lost her.
 “Yeah either that or I am wasted as FUCK!”
 He came towards her oblivious to the look of disgust that had formed on her broad cheeks and full lips.
 “If your high ass touches me I'm gonna dislocate your shoulder!” 
She got out of bed scooping the sheet with her.
 She donned her prosthetics.
 “Gather ALL of your paraphernalia and get the ever-loving fuck out of my house!” 
She slammed the bathroom door. 
She knew without looking that he was too high to realize the gravity of the situation. 
“Theo” She called reaching down to the lowest corner of the Hollywood vanity and grabbed her hot pink Glock 19. He needed a wakeup.
 Yep, he was sitting on her bed. In his street clothes. She cocked the mid-sized 9mm.
 “Sober the fuck up and get the fuck out!”
 Before she could level the weapon he was stone cold sober.
 “What the fuck ma?!” 
She was not having it.
 “Theo we don't have to part on bad terms. You sweet and the medical marijuana was helping me with my PTSD.”
 He knew there was a but coming, and he felt the morbid need to hear it. So he prompted it. 
“But? What's the problem baby?”
 She really let him have it, but the way it was delivered, sheer beauty.
 “Really? A rundown, okay.”
 She stood at ease. One hand behind her she calmly clicks off points with her right digits. 
“#1 your sex is not that good. Not dreadful. Just Meh.”
 She extends her thumb to make this first point than thinking better of it uses her index.
 “Just in case the symbolism misses your marijuana destroyed brain cells."
 She slowly raised her thumb like a minute penis getting erect. 
“#2 your dick is little. No tiny Tim I said that to make you feel better.” 
Theo wanted to leave, just didn't want to hear what was next sheer morbidity coupled with the fear of getting shot and he stayed where he was. 
“Your idea of sex is not only boring and hard... no definitely not hard!” 
She emphasized her point without any inflection in her voice. It still struck him like brass knuckles. He felt the words to his bones. 
“Difficult to be in attendance for. I like company. You were company. And now you’re not. I hope that you find a way to get paid to smoke marijuana and get laid. I hope that they put a roof over your head. But I am done.” She didn't just say those words she pronounced them. He had no rebuttal. He was a bum. He had as much needed a place to stay as care about her.
 He had a hard time grasping the concept of keeping a job. She had summed up his aspirations fairly. 
He had to say something had to somehow strike back, even though he was unwounded.
 “I was the only motherfucker who could put up with yo night terror attacks. I helt yo ass when you was trembling, and crying…” 
Don't say it Smokey.
 “And I Anit neva said nothing bout yo stumps.” 
He had gone to the most extreme place. It was a deep cut. She refused to rise to the bait.
 “I was being nice, deadbeat. Be gone by the time I get out of the shower!”
 She let the sheet drop. Nude except for the beautiful handgun which gave a sexy contrast to her prosthetics. He was a fool. He knew it. It would hit him even harder in the next few hours as he struggled to find a place to stay.
 He wound up crashing with three other stoners that were renting a house.
 She started attending a support group for vets and met her soulmate. Another Vet with his own prosthesis

FRIED EVERYTHING

A storm and a misunderstanding, started it all.  Teddy and Maria had met in Vegas and been married by mid-weekend.

The whirlwind romance hadn't provided much time to learn each other’s idiosyncrasies. 

 So when hurricane Samuel knocked out the power to the restaurant Teddy owned, the instruction to “fry everything” was taken literally.

 Teddy’s had become famous.

 The fact that he was open the day following the largest storm in U.S. history, coupled with the chicken that had been boiled and then fried, batter fried barbecue ribs, fried mushrooms, fried peppers, fried onions, fried tomatoes even  fried Mac and cheese, made “Teddy's Soul food world famous.

 That first day after the storm Teddy had given away more food then he sold. 

Maria had been frustrated and trying to get her store together. She was being sarcastic when she told him to use the turkey fryers to fry all of the food that was going to go bad otherwise. Teddy was a very literal guy. If you told him to ‘drop’ something right there, he would do exactly that.  

So literally everything in the double coolers got fried.

 The dishes were a hit. 

People came from everywhere for Teddy's Fried Everything Platter. His signature dish was a tribute to American excess. A chicken leg quarter, boiled then batter fried, barbecue ribs batter fried, sides of fried mushrooms, red and green tomatoes, and fried Mac and cheese.   Now 7 years later amidst an America that he no longer recognized, widowed by mold in the store his wife insisted on salvaging, and broken by life Teddy was preparing what he figured would be his last meal. 

 When he had first opened his restaurant America’s “President for life” was still an elected official and although he didn't agree with the man's politics he felt the man had been the people's choice. 

Now for the first time since 2018 Teddy's Soul food, would not be open to the public. President for life Trump was coming to eat, and the entire thing would be filmed on TNN the Trump News Network, the source for real news. The law said that you had to add that phrase anytime you mentioned the network.
The secret service was different then when Europe, Canada, and Mexico had been America’s allies, the para-military boogey men, had been in Teddy’s restaurant for the last week asking questions about the food that he prepared, the employees and making sure that none of the people who would be there when America’s dictator would arrive had never voiced any anti-Trump messages.
It seemed that once China, Russia and North Korea became our allies our government took on their attributes. 

 Teddy knew that people who dared speak out against the great narcissist disappeared.
 He knew that had he refused to serve the President for life he too would quietly disappear. So Teddy’s arthritic hands battered the meats and veggies, He prepared the “Big Ted” sauce. 

 He recalled his wife’s painful cough, as she wasted away from the aggressive mold that formed in Samuel’s aftermath. 

He remembered that he could no longer view her grave because her native Puerto Rico was no longer a state.

 The reporters arrived before the POTUS. Teddy was prepared and felt better than he had in years. He greeted and shook hands with all of the guests that had been invited. 

Normally shy, Teddy courted the camera and made sure that his patriotic stance was recorded.

 Finally the president arrived and his entire entourage sat inside Teddy’s small dining area. The cameras captured the waiter approach the table and hand them menus. 

Only for the waiter to say. “I was instructed to get the owner the moment you sat Mr. President.
 “Yes yes go get him. I going to be his greatest customer ever. He should come out here.”
 The large man, with his oxford shirt rolled up to his elbows came out of the kitchen wiping his big hands on a cotton towel.
His caramel skin glistened with a sheen of sweat and he smelled like Cajun spices.
Teddy grinned directly into the camera and said: “I still have the right to refuse service to anyone I chose. I would like to ask your perverse pussy grabbing tiny handed ass to leave. I love America and I hope that it lives up to its potential. You are poison sir and I can’t in good conscience feed you.” The live feed disappeared. So did Teddy. 

What A Difference A Tie Makes

So I have been told that my stories are a little long.  So I  am now introducing the Uber short story. I am attempting to build a story with a lot less words. The comment section is the best way to tell me how I'm doing. I can't improve without your input. Without further ado here's "what a difference a tie makes"

Rashad woke up in agony again. He wished he could just afford to collect disability. It was only 9 months ago he was “Hard Shard” the “King of the Ring ” the “Overlord of the Octagon”. The car crash had pretty much ended his MMA career, and without the paying fights he was going broke. His Italian and black girlfriend was proving that she was still a sister.
She insisted that he go to work ASAP.  “You're not taking care of me like you promised!” Nona was going to be the death of him. He could not say no to her.
He unwrapped himself from his silk sheets and tossed the mink blanket back onto the bed. The pain medication that barely made his days manageable, caused him to sleep hard and he couldn't recall kicking the blanket off.
The shower was hot enough to boil grits and he stood beneath it massaging his left leg. His femur had broken into three pieces, as his 72 impala plowed through the concrete barrier, and plummeted to the street below.
The initial pain of shattering his pelvis and leg was actually less than the pain that struck him each morning as soon as his eyes opened.
Rashad, appeared to have aged 10 years in the  273 days since being cut from the wreckage.
Just as he had chanted victory in his mind before every match, Rashad chanted. “I have this job, it’s already mine. I already have this job. It's already mine.”
He didn't want to have to accept a $12 an hour job but things were tighter than ever before. His Movado needed a band, the leather was beginning to crack. Soon it would split and the prized timepiece would join his Tag Haur and Invicta in a drawer in his high rise apartment.
As he thought about the apartment he realized that his savings account was being slowly emptied by the monthly withdrawal from his complex. He loved it there and he'd be Damn if he lost it! “Nobody's taking my shit!” Hard Shard,  looked at his reflection his cufflinks glistened as he tied a decent Windsor knot, for a novice.
Rashad, looked great in his suit. The Goodwill in Buckhead had paid off. He was easily the best dressed candidate.
“Rashad Canton? Rashad Canton?”
The receptionist was a middle-aged woman whose clothing exposed things that should remain hidden.
He checked his teeth one last time, in the office's mirrored wall, as he feigned a smile at the woman who introduced herself as Irene.  “Rashad Canton ma'am.” He gave Her his best southern Gentlemen handshake.
Rashad was happy they'd offered him the job and were starting him at $13.50. While not the amount that he had wanted, it was a start.
At least he wouldn't have to continue to dig into his savings account as much.
In order to celebrate the new job Rashad stopped at the convenience store, he figured that he would grab some condoms because Nona would be happy. He was going to enjoy her joy.
“I should take my ass to Wal-Mart, I would get  more for less.”
Hard Shard, was still hurting, despite how happy he was. He strained out of his car's low seat. Before he was able to walk in, vagrants accosted him.
“Excuse me big brother can I talk to you? “
Rashad’s “No!” was firm.
The pain in his hips, and shooting up his leg were extreme. Rashad, didn't want to converse. He was insulted that this apparently healthy dude, was asking for something.
If he could bounce back from his traumatic injuries and get a job, why couldn't this guy.
The door swung open hard and Rashad was forced to step back. The quick action made the pain worse. The man coming out of the door, stopped and said, “Excuse me sir, can you spare $.50?” That was what Rashad hated about “hood stores” always somebody asking for something.
The first vagabond decided to forewarn his fellow panhandler. “His bitch ass anit gonna give up shit!”
Rashad, had been coming to this store, for two years and had seen that particular beggar on many occasions. Rashad had come into this store back when he was running several miles a day.
Why today did this asshole choose to disrespect him? The spin was the least graceful that he had done since he learned the move, but it was still effective.  Shard's fist split open the man's fleshy nose, the action had been instinctive.He simply reacted.
It took four hours to bond out of the Fulton county jail. He had been harassed by some of the guys in the holding cell. It had to be the  necktie, nobody tried him at any other time.