Banana Hammock

by Jack Kilborn

  “Of course not. And anytime Strand wants, he can check the doctored spreadsheet which was falsified to make it seem like there haven’t been any sales.”

  “Oh, he’ll check it, alright,” Mayhem said. “I’ll make sure of it. Especially since he did that other project with Konrath.”

  “That one isn’t earning anything either,” I said.

  “What other project?” asked Crazy Knife Goon.

  “It’s cool,” Mayhem said. “And unlike the epic bag of fail that is Suckers, it actually has real vampires in it.”

  “What’s it called?” queried CKG.

  “Draculas,” I chimed in. “A full length horror novel. Konrath and Strand co-wrote it with F. Paul Wilson and Blake Crouch.”

  “Wow!” exclaimed CKG. “F. Paul Wilson? I thought he was dead.”

  “Nope. He’s just like ninety-six years old.”

  “Who’s Blake Crouch?” asked CKG.

  I shrugged. “No idea. You want to see an excerpt from Draculas? Or would you rather hack up Andrew Mayhem into little pieces while I escape?”

  CKG scratched his chin. “I dunno. I’m going to have to ask the readers for help on this one.”

  Should you check out Draculas? If so, click here.

  Should CKG kill Andrew Mayhem? If so, click here.

  To read a bonus short story by J.A. Konrath and Jeff Strand, click here.

  To return to the previous section, click here.

  I’m a sucker for poignant, heartfelt poetry. Here are some of my favorites from the ebook by J. Andrew Haknort.

  Enjoy…

  I Lost My Squirrel

  I lost my squirrel!

  I lost my squirrel!

  It just fell off now I’m a girl!

  Anal Sex

  I had anal sex,

  With my girl Gidget,

  She got knocked up,

  The kid looked like shit.

  My Dog Shag

  I have a dog with no legs,

  His name is Shag,

  I can’t take him for a walk,

  I take him for a drag.

  Data

  Data, data,

  Dis and data,

  I can’t go out,

  Without my hata,

  The baby’s crying,

  What’s the matta?

  Data, data,

  Dis and data.

  Hot Dog

  You sure this is a hot dog?

  What’s with all the veins?

  Is this a foreskin?

  I’ll trade you for your chips.

  Auntie Shirley

  I have an Auntie Shirley,

  Her hair is very curly,

  Especially around her vagina.

  Why the Floor is Wet

  I pissed,

  And I missed.

  My Candles

  I made some candles,

  Out of my ear wax,

  What?

  You say something?

  Hair On My Balls

  There’s hair on my balls!

  There’s hair on my balls!

  And now there’s hair on my tongue!

  Daughter

  I sewed gills on my daughter,

  So she could breathe underwater,

  It worked really great,

  Now she can’t get a date.

  Jack in the Box

  Hey!

  Let me out!

  Vegetable Crimes

  I had sex

  With a melon

  Now I’m wanted

  As a felon.

  Subway

  I rode the subway naked,

  Just to see people react,

  It was really quite exciting,

  Up until I got attacked.

  Crime

  A bunch of banditios!

  Stole all my Fritos!

  I’m mad because now

  I have nothing to eatos!

  Dinah

  Dinah was a lizard,

  Dinah was a whore,

  She fucked a pterodactyl,

  And boy was Dinah sore.

  To start the adventure over, click here.

  To read a Harry McGlade adventure about zombies, click here.

  To read a Harry McGlade adventure about private schools, click here.

  To read a Harry McGlade adventure about dogs, click here.

  To read a Harry McGlade adventure about assassination, click here.

  To read Harry McGlade’s very first adventure, click here.

  To read about books J.A. Konrath might write someday, click here.

  To return to the previous section, click here.

  A note from the author.

  I’ve figured out the secret to becoming a bestseller. All you have to do is sell a whole bunch of books.

  These are some books that I’m currently working on or just finished:

  I’m writing a book about prison. It will be released in three to five years.

  I’m writing a book about acne. I think it will be my breakout book.

  I’m writing a book about massage techniques. It has a happy ending.

  I wrote a book about bees. It’s generating a lot of buzz. But a lot of the reviews have really stung.

  I wrote a book about assassination. It will be a hit. They’re selling it exclusively at Target. The reviews have been killer.

  I wrote a book on snakes, and was bitten eight times. Next time, I’ll write the book on paper instead.

  I’m writing a book about my car. It’s an autobiography.

  I’m writing a book called The Locked Door. But I just can’t get into it.

  I wrote a book called The 144 Murders. It’s gross.

  I wrote a book called The Paraplegic Murders. It’ll keep you glued to the chair. You’ll read it in one sitting. But the ending is lame.

  I wrote a book called The Elephant Murders. It’s a trunk novel.

  I wrote book called The Chickadee Murders. Buy it. It’s cheep.

  I’m writing a book about drug use. I’m calling it Addictionary.

  I wrote book called The Elevator Murders. It has its ups and downs.

  I wrote a book called The Viagra Murders. It’s a pop-up book.

  I wrote a book called The Caffeine Murders. It’s guaranteed to keep you up all night.

  I’m writing a book about a man who buys a cemetery, but it isn’t a good plot.

  I wrote a book about menopause, but it is hard to understand because it doesn’t have any periods.

  I’m writing a book about elderly dinosaurs. It’s called Geriassic Park. The T-Rex hero breaks a hip, and his children never call.

  I wrote a book about potty training. It was a number two bestseller.

  If you want to know J.A. Konrath’s favorite banned books, click here.

  If you’d rather get back to the Amish adventure, click here.

  To return to the previous section, click here.

  Joe’s List of Favorite Banned Books

  Huckleberry Taint

  The Cat in the Hat Eats His Young

  Dora the Explorer — Boots Gets Neutered

  The DaVinci Chode

  Tales of a Fourth Grade Pedophile

  The Lion, The Witch, And The Whoremonger

  Where the Wild Things Hump

  Horton Has a Colostomy!

  Lemony Snicket and a Series of Unfortunate Open Sores

  Charlie and the Chocolate Highway

  Diary of a Wimpy Kid — I’ll Get a Gun and Show Them All

  How the Grinch Stole My Virginity

  Are You There, God? It’s Me, Anne Frank

  The Hardy Boys and the Mystery of the Bad Touch

  One Fish, Two Fish, Two Girls, One Cup

  Harry Potter and the Nocturnal Emission

  To restart the adventure, click here.

  To return to the previous section, click here.

  I raised my fist, ready to go all Guantánamo on this God-fearing pacifist. But before I could throw the punch, Amos had karate-kicked me right in the chest.<
br />
  I staggered backwards, rubbing my ribs.

  “Hey!” I said. “You’re supposed to be non-violent!”

  “I know who put you up to this,” Amos said, sneering. “It was my wife, Lulu. Lulu! Get out here!”

  The bedroom door opened. Lulu stepped out, her head hanging low. She wore only a g-string and pasties. But, befitting her religion, both items were very plain.

  “Yes, Husband?” she meekly asked. “How may I serve you?”

  Amos rushed over to Lulu, taking her roughly by the upper arm. “I wondered where the horse and buggy went. You took them to the big city to hire some jackass!”

  “You also hired someone else?” I said.

  Lulu looked terrified. “I swear, Amos. I didn’t do anything.”

  “The bible says to honor your husband, woman,” Amos declared. “Haven’t I given you everything? A plain house to live in. A stripper pole in our bedroom. All those piercings. Everything a good Amish woman needs.”

  Lulu pulled away, her face becoming venomous. “You treat me like I’m your property, Amos Coleslaw!”

  “Technically, you are. I traded a horse and two mules for you.”

  “You beat me!”

  “That’s a lie!”

  She turned around, showing us her damn-near perfect ass.

  “What about this?” she said, pointing to a tiny red mark on her left cheek.

  “That’s a birthmark!” Amos said.

  “Is not!”

  “Is so!”

  I whipped out the magnifying class I keep in my pocket for opportunities like this, and knelt next to Lulu.

  “This appears to be a nevus flammeus, also known as a port-wine stain. Port-wine stains are present at birth and range from a pale pink in color, to a deep wine-red. They’re caused by a deficiency or absence in the nerve supply to blood vessels. This forces the blood vessels to dilate, and blood to collect in the affected area. Over time, port-wine stains may become thick or develop small ridges or bumps, and do not fade with age.”

  I switched off Wikipedia and put away my iPhone.

  “Well, maybe it is a birthmark,” Lulu said, “But you’re still cheating on me!”

  Amos patted his own chest. “I’m too much Amish for just one woman. The Mormons get a lot of cootchie. Why should I have to suffer just because I was born into the wrong, backasswards, repressive, fundamentalist religion?”

  He had a point.

  “Kick his Amish ass, Harry,” Lulu said. “And stomp on his balls until they swell up to the size of Kirstie Alley.”

  I raised my fists, and one of my feet. Amos tore off his plain shirt, revealing a six pack. While he drank one, I couldn’t help but notice he was also heavily muscled.

  “They have a gym in Plaintown?” I asked.

  “It opened up last year, next to the Blockbuster Video.”

  “Yeah? Well, I prefer Netflix.”

  I actually didn’t prefer Netflix. Two years ago, I rented Showgirls and misplaced the DVD. So far it has cost me three hundred and eighty seven dollars.

  “I must warn you,” Amos said. “I’m a master at karate, tae kwon do, jujitsu, judo, capoeira, muy thai boxing, monkey style Shaolin kung fu, Australian dick wrestling, charades, bowling, Sorry by Parker Brothers, Hungry Hungry Hippos by Galoob, and Pokemon.”

  I was out the door right after he said karate. But as I ran into the Amish village, screaming for help at the top of my lungs, no mob of torch-wielding, angry villagers came to my aid. I tried yelling, “Frankenstein! We must destroy the monster!” but got similar, unimpressive results. Apparently, real life wasn’t like a Universal horror movie from the 1930s. I wish someone had warned me.

  Shaolin Amos was right on my heels, jogging methodically after me. Finally, after twenty yards of frenzied sprinting, I was too tired to go on. I had no choice but to face him.

  I turned around, gasping in air, and realized I had two options. I could draw my gun and shoot him, or fight him man-to-man with my bare hands and hope that one yoga class I took in high school was enough martial arts training to help me win.

  But which should I choose? If only there were some magical, all-knowing force to guide my direction and make that decision for me…

  Should Harry fight Amos with his fists? If so, click here.

  Should Harry just shoot him? If so, click here.

  To return to the previous section, click here.

  “You can beat me all you want to, Brother,” said Amos. “But look at all the clues. Amish women don’t wear make-up, or perfume, or have fake nails. When you went into the costume shop, Clandestine Westin called Lulu by a different name and said she’d rented a costume there. And Amish women don’t have cell phones.”

  He was right. I could beat him all I wanted to. So even though you, the reader, wanted me to try common sense, I vetoed that lame decision and punched this gentle, tolerant man right in the jaw.

  “Confess!” I ordered, kicking him in the procreation stick. “Are you cheating on your wife? Have you ever been a member of the Communist Party? What role did you play in 9/11? How long have you practiced witchcraft, and danced naked in satanic orgies while eating newborn babies? What is the average annual rainfall in the Amazon basin? Answer me!”

  He answered all of them, except the rainfall one. Which was okay, because I didn’t know the answer either. And though he didn’t actually cheat on his wife, or have anything to do with the destruction of the World Trade Center, he did admit to eating a newborn child.

  “Only its leg,” he said. “And it was too chewy and salty, so when the other Satanists weren’t looking, I spit it out.”

  After giving him a stern lecture about joining cults without fully committing to their insane practices, I left his home and found my way back to my car. This case was like an onion—an herbaceous perennial monocot from the order asparagales. The only choice I had left was to quit and not refund Lulu’s money.

  So common sense won out after all.

  The end.

  To start over, click here.

  To return to the previous section, click here.

  I put up my fists, hoping this ebook was almost over. Then Lulu threw herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck.

  “Don’t hurt him, Amos!” she cried. “I love him!”

  “Do you love her?” Amos asked me.

  I shrugged. “Sure. At this point, why the hell not?”

  “Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

  Lulu snuggled against my cheek. “I love you, Harry McGlade. This was all an elaborate ruse to get us together. Amos isn’t really my husband. He’s a minister.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “And this isn’t really an Amish settlement. This is the back lot at Warner Brothers Studios. Everyone you’ve seen is actually an actor.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “We’re married now, Harry! Kiss me!”

  If Harry should kiss her, click here.

  If Harry is dreaming because Amos has beaten him unconscious, click here.

  To return to the previous section, click here.

  Tired of playing around, I took out my .44 Magnum and aimed it at Amos’s bearded face.

  “I’m tired of playing around. So I’m sticking my .44 Magnum in your bearded face, Amos.”

  “I know. I can read.”

  “Are you going to tell me the truth about your affair? Or do I have to kill you, and then you’ll tell me the truth?”

  Amos held up his palms. “How about instead of killing me, we have some ice cream?”

  “No way. You think you can bribe me with ice cream? What flavor?”

  “Times New Roman.”

  “That’s not a flavor. That’s a font.”

  “So you’re saying you don’t like that type?”

  I cocked my gun. “Just let me know what flavor ice cream you’ve got.”

  “I’ve got many flavors, Brother.
How about chocolate?”

  “Never heard of it. Try something familiar.”

  “How about Booger?”

  “Booger ice cream? Who came up with that?”

  “I picked it myself.”

  I winced.

  “How about jumbo jet?” he asked.

  “Jumbo jet ice cream?”

  He shrugged. “We Amish are a plane folk.”

  I shot him in the face.

  I went to prison for life. But I still felt justified.

  The end.

  To restart the adventure, click here..

  To look at other bad ice cream flavors Amos had, click here.

  Harry’s List of Amputee Jokes

  What do you call a person with no arms and no legs…

  …in a cooking pot?

  Stu.

  …in a fireplace?

  Bernie.

  …in a hole?

  Phil.

  …in a pile of leaves?

  Russel.

  …on a BBQ grill?

  Frank. Or Chuck. Or Patty.

  …in a spice rack?

  Herb. Or Basil.

  …in a mailbox?

  Bill.

  …on your wall?

  Art.

  …in a bag?

  Carry.

  …in a lingerie drawer?

  Teddy.

  …in a vase?

  Rose. Or Lily.

  …covered in sauerkraut?

  Reuben.

  …is offended by these jokes and wants to hire a lawyer to file a class-action suit against Konrath?

  Sue.

  Start the adventure over, click here..

  Read how Harry lost his hand in Rusty Nail, click here.

  To return to the previous section, click here.

  “How you doing, Harry?” Phin asks me.

  How was I doing? I was tied to a chair with wire, and some psycho just cut off all my fingers and used a blowtorch to stop the bleeding.

  What the hell was wrong with that Konrath guy? Where did he come up with this stuff? His book covers are so bright and cheerful, and he’s always talking about how funny they are. Nowhere on the book jacket does it talk about psychos cutting off fingers.