Why does my heart yearn for the complete and utter bitch? Why do shallow hints of sex and psychotic eyes never fail to get a rise out of me? Perhaps it’s my desire for an assertive woman who doesn’t respect me. If that is what I’ve always wanted in a woman, my mother would be my soul mate.
Ew.
James Ryan on love, Chapter 7

If I was a doctor or a soldier in uniform, she would jump my bones and take me before I could mutter “rape,” but instead I’m a moping schmuck in an oversized suit.
James Ryan, Chapter 7

Tyler looks disappointed, like a kid behind told he wouldn’t be going to Disney world unless he was dying of cancer.
Paradise Can Kiss My Ass, chapter 6

The elevator takes longer than an elderly woman trying to pay a cashier with change buried in her oversize purse.

Paradise Can Kiss My Ass, Chapter Six

Writing again after a writers block, retail work, and other busy stuff.
Chapter six should be done by July 4th

The parking brake makes it sound like sandpaper having a three way with an iron plate and a chalkboard.

Paradise Can Kiss My Ass - Chapter 5

James Ryan on the screeching parking brake

1 note 

Carl, I’m allergic to Raid and even I know how to use a spray can."
“Jeez I forgot you were allergic to that shit. Remind me what else you’re allergic to.” it’s hard to understand him with his mouth so full.
“Raid, Shellfish, Peanuts, Bees, cats, and crowds. But it’s easier to count the things I won’t die from touching.
Paradise Can Kiss My Ass - Chapter 5

James Ryan is allergic to most things 

His face changes to utter disgust as he fingers through my hangers. “Jesus, Jim. You sure you’re straight? This closet is making my gaydar max out.” The only clothes I kept are the ones She hated. A wardrobe built on spite is like a knitted Christmas sweater, it just doesn’t work.
Paradise Can Kiss My Ass - Chapter 5

Carl judges James’ wardrobe (cont.) 

" "Alright. Sit down and clear your mind. Do yoga or some shit. Meditate. Masturbate. Whatever. I’m going to pick out your clothes. If we’re going to be investigating, we should look like investigators. Not…" he looks at my clothes. I’m wearing an orange colored shirt, with an ink-stained breast pocket. I bought my purple shorts at a salvation army, so I can’t explain the mysterious sticky stains around the crotch.. "Not blind gay mormons." He goes back to rifling through my clothes.
Paradise Can Kiss My Ass - Chapter 5

Carl Kerrigan judge’s James Ryan’s wardrobe. 

1 note 

Chapter 5 in the can

I’ve finished my longest chapter yet at a whopping 14 pages, and once I get it back from my editor I’ll get rolling on chapter 6. I’m back on my original schedule.

Expect some quotes this week to celebrate my productiveness. 

There’s no place I can think clearer in than the bathroom. Whether I’m shitting or showering, I’m rarely interrupted and never intruded on. I solve most cases while scrubbing my armpits or massaging my scalp. It is my fortress of solitude. It is my bat-cave. It is my think tank. It is the one place I am safe from Vicky’s sexual distractions and conniving seductions.

Paradise Can Kiss My Ass - Chapter 5

After a short break in writing, I’m back on track and on my original schedule.

2 notes