As it’s been a month now, it’s time for a new edition of the Ransomology Weekly Newsletter.
This week’s edition’s tardiness is due largely to the intense pestilence known as ’employment’; specifically, the seeking of such by your beloved protagonist; more specifically, and highest on the pestilence scale, the necessity of finding such for which I will be remunerated.
Why no one has yet recognised my writing genius and bathed me in cash is one of the deep mysteries akin to: “How could the Big Bang happen if before the Big Bang there was literally nothing?” and “Why do I exist?”… Actually, “Why do I exist?” is not really any mystery; you exist to procreate (I may be able to help you in this regard, please see below). The real mystery is: Why do we have consciousness that enables us to contemplate things and ask such questions as: “Why should I procreate? What if I decide not to procreate? Am I denying life to some future entity if I choose not to procreate? If so, does this mean I am a selfish, bad person? Oh my God, why am I always thinking about things so much? I’m sure I’d be a lot happier if I could just stop thinking! I think I need a drink…” etc. ad infinitum.
So I will rephrase. Why no one has yet recognised that my writing genius is worth funding, and so showered me in cash, is a mystery on par with such profound mysteries as: “The Big Bang – What the Fuck?” and “Consciousness – Why the Fuck?”
Your beloved protagonist is slightly dismayed Dear Readers: perplexed; dumbfounded; bamboozled. In last month’s Weekly Newsletter, in an attempt to sustain my current discipline (all writers must have discipline) of waking up at 10am, writing till I feel like stopping, then going for a 2 hour massage, I put out a call for expressions of interest from those wishing to discreetly employ my services as… ahem… a commercial pleasure man. Admittedly there were some strict eligibility requirements, and given that my monthly Weekly Newsletter has a readership of about 17, most of whom are either family members or close friends, I arguably should have been more prepared, emotionally speaking, for this flagrant rejection. Alas however, I was not; and it hurts.
I think I’ve honed in on the problem however – it can only be that I have not shown my potential clients just what a once in a lifetime not to be missed opportunity this really is. So, without further adieu, here’s what your $100 a minute gets you:
Yeah baby. That’s what I’m talkin’ about. You know you want it. I expect that will open the metaphorical floodgates. Please, no repeat bookings till I clear out the initial backlog. Scalpers will be prosecuted.
Yes, it’s me! What do you mean: “It doesn’t look like me,”? Of course it’s me….I’ve been working out, OK?
While we’re on the topic of firemen, I’m almost through work on a new series of novellas which are guaranteed to bring me the public adulation I so richly deserve. Here’s a sneak preview of the first edition:
I whacked the puppy in as the deal clincher. How can any thinking woman resist a fireman AND a puppy at the same time!? Given the inevitable huge sales of this masterpiece, I’ve bought myself a yacht. I’ve named it ‘Royalties.’ I plan to finish the Bachelor Fireman series while cruising the Caribbean.
I admit that I’ve had to compromise a few of my artistic principles in the production of these ‘works’, and I suspect that the intelligentsia will be divided on the question of their literary merit, but art critics are always jealous of success. As they say: those who can, do; the rest become critics. In order to ensure the production of favourable reviews, I may have to invite a few of the parasitic wretches onto my yacht and show them some ‘hospitality.’
Just between you and me, coming up with a cover photo that wasn’t violently cheesy, while including both a semi-nude fireman and a puppy, wasn’t easy – I’m sure you’ll agree that I’ve succeeded spectacularly though. In fact, making the cover was far harder than writing the book! The book pretty much wrote itself, because all I did was take this:
and use the find/replace function to change every instance of the word ‘doctor’, to ‘fireman’. Am I a genius or what!? Admittedly I now have a story about a fireman who works in a hospital, so some of the dialogue is a bit odd:
‘Excuse me Fireman Ross?’
‘You’re needed in the ER, there’s a young – ‘
‘A mortally wounded child! I’m on the way. I assume Fireman Carter has the kid stabilised?’
‘For the moment, but she’s losing blood fast.’
‘There’s not a second to spare then. I’ll need you to scrub in for this one.’
‘Oh, and Nurse?’
‘You’re looking very sexy in that uniform.’
‘Oh Fireman Ross; I bet you say that to all the nurses…’
Nevertheless, given the blistering heat of the steamy stuff (which I spiced up significantly by cutting and pasting in snippets from 50 Shades of Grey) and the occasional appearance of an adorable beagle puppy (no, not in the same scenes, you deviant) trust me when I say that my readers will be far too distracted to notice such trivialities as character development, continuity etc.
Dear Readers, if you want to be able to say you “knew” me before I was famous, you are rapidly running out of time; so get your expression of interest in quick to Ihaveaneedforsteve@gmail.com. Mention the words ‘Hot for Fireman’ in the subject field to receive a free signed copy of my soon to be best-selling novella.