I, Effing Feline, want to fly. Just think how many birds I could catch. I could become the greatest flying ace in the history of catdom!
We keep track of these things, you know. Who’s currently the greatest ace? I’ll show you after this word from our sponsor, The Saint of Quarantine Island.
We left fourteen-year-old Billy Seaweed atop a cliff, trying to bottle up the mania energy churning inside him. But the supply boat distracts him. It’s two days early, which means it’s carrying not supplies but another crazy white guy (in this case a crazy white woman) who wants to catch fireworks and become a genius.
Jesus, he sometimes acted as crazy as a white guy.
Speaking of which, the new crazy white guy would have stuff he could borrow, if he got to him first. Billy popped to his feet, propelled high in the air by the wild energy that fizzed through his limbs. The supply boat was nearly to Hotel Point. Eventually someone in Echo Bay town would see the boat and dash out to borrow the crazy newcomer’s good stuff. Living near the mouth of the bay, Billy usually got first crack, but this time he wouldn’t get to borrow anything, and that fucking sucked a mucking buck.
Unless he flew down.
Yeah. Of course!
That’s ten. But here are two more for good luck.
Except that in the past, he’d survived the jump from the cliff only by harnessing his explosive burst of energy until the last possible moment. It was hard to leap past the submerged rocks.
Effing Feline here again. The greatest ace in cat history started young. Here’s my hero in action.
Ed wants me to tell you he’s gotten the edits back from his editor, Danielle Fine, and is hard at work entering them. The Saint of Quarantine Island is certain to be ready in plenty of time for it release.
The Saint of Quarantine Island
Maybe you’ve read about viruses that turn people into zombies. But how about a virus that turns people into madmen, some of whom become creative geniuses?
Spurred by her husband’s infidelity, a suburban housewife smuggles herself into a wilderness quarantine to catch the new disease. She’s hoping to redeem her empty life by writing a great book . . . and maybe, just maybe, find love with the man called the Saint of Gilford Island. She’d once spent a memorable, though oddly chaste, night with him. Surely he’ll help her.
But a lifetime’s exile on an island of madmen — pirates, a suicidal Indian boy, an arrogant Cambridge scientist, a licentious cult leader, all of them periodically insane then sane and back again — is crueler than any suburban daydream. To survive, she’ll need to adapt.
Adapt how, though? Even if she wins the saint’s love, nothing in her life — or anyone’s life, ever – could possibly prepare her for the unpredictable society these creative madmen have built.
The Saint of Quarantine Island escapes from its pre-sale quarantine on July 1, 2020. Until then, it’s available at a special reduced price. Don’t wait — the price will be rising as surely as Billy Seaweed’s mania.