Tag: travel
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A zany and profane ad for the changes to my website (yep, that’s what AI thinks I look like)
While I’m proud of my accomplishments as an award-winning Man Whore, I’m a low-key dude who—just like the rest of you low-key dudes—enjoys making ape-noises and trying to see if I can use the Force by trying to move the baaaarely out-of-reach remote control using a curled-hand gesture and an intense-ass stare. Yeah, that’s why…
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A zany and profane ad for upcoming changes to my website (yep, that’s what AI thinks I look like)
What the swamp-dick is happening, all you neglectful meat-slingers who build up a plethora of cheese and ectoplasm only to loosen the draw-strings on your shorts and cause mass-seizures across half the continent, Bigfoots crawl across the forest ground, begging in their strange, horn-like language with tears matting the fur on both their cheeks, paint…
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A zany and profane ad for upcoming changes to my website (yep, that’s what AI thinks I look like)
Bezos busts through the wall, sighting in on me with dozens of unnecessarily visible aiming-lasers, mounted on the shoulders of his billion-dollar mech-suit. “What the fuck?” I jump out of bed and cover my gigantic penis with a nearby pillow. A band of shadow descends on his eyes. “Penis…ROCKETS!” No time to think—I leap and…
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Musings
I believe at a certain point along one’s journey, it becomes evident that external victories are predictable in their fleeting, temporary fulfillment. At this point, I believe the perspective begins to turn inward, and though not a lick of difference might be seen (even while the same or greater effort may be directed toward an…
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Yet another weird ad for my novels
My ex kicks me out of her moving car. Asphalt bites into my shoulders and ribs—OW, FUCK, MOTHER OF SHIT—before I come to a stop in the ratty-ass weeds. It takes me an hour of wriggling and squirming, but I finally worm free of the ties around my wrists. Fuck, that hurt. I stand up…
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Yet another weird ad for my novels
Wait—what? Men are spontaneously dropping dead? Wait—WHAT? I’m the last one alive? Hold on—ZZRP—I just got teleported into a stadium-full of women, and they’re swarming me like fast-zombies from World War Z, leaping through the air with their mouths fully open, in an attempt to encompass my girthy upcurve? ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? THANK YOU,…
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Give my books a read and a review!
What the superspy-battle is happening, all you chic lethal assassins who’ve accosted your mortal nemesis in a high-rise elevator made of glass and steel and custom-built alloy, you’re exchanging punches/elbows/knees in the clinch and avoiding wild swipes with exotic knives while looking hella badass in your highly fashionable GQ businesswear, on pure instinct you hit…
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Yet another weird ad for my novels
“What the fuck?” My soccer mom clients are seated on either side of me. Someone abducted us, assembled us in an otherwise empty theater, and tied us to rows of front-facing chairs. “Did you do this?” I shoot a glance at a soccer mom. “Why?” I strain against my ropes. “Don’t be an idiot, Kent,”…
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Give my books a read and a review!
What the butt-card-swipe is happening, all you disgruntled mofos who have that ONE ANNOYING FRIEND who thinks it’s the HEIGHT OF FUCKING HILARITY to wait until your asscrack is exposed and jump in with their credit card so they can slide unforgiving plastic down your butt and over the bisected wrinkles of your fear-puckered dirt…
Kent Wayne 