Welcome! Indie Author Excerpts is a new feature allowing indie authors the chance to showcase one of their books and allows readers to find their next favorite story. Each week, an indie author gets to promote a 1-2 page excerpt of their book here at The Bawdy Book Blog. This is a win-win for everyone! This feature was inspired in part by Indie Author Spotlight, a meme hosted by Beckie @ Bittersweet Enchantment and CYP @ A Bookalicious Story.
This Week’s Excerpt: The Cure by MC Foley!
Los Angeles. 2012. After a beaten-down, sickly cog visits a faith healer, she develops a dark wish fulfillment power that stokes her appetite for sex and vigilante-style revenge. “The illness, the one that almost killed me, or almost killed my soul, was also the thing that brought me here. A new home in my city of angels. Heads on stakes. Enemies impaled. All of this revenge surrounding what used to elude me – Power. Until now. One visit to the bird streets and everything changed. They say absolute power corrupts. Absolutely. Yes, it does.” Splashes of dark humor. Adults only.
Days later, I feel it. I really feel it. I’m clean. I move like a teenage panther. I think at a speed that seems like some new technology has implanted itself in my skull.
More than that – I can alter my world.
It occurs to me first, at work. That petri dish of gluttonous, medieval rulers holding desperately onto disintegrating plots of land on the fifteenth floor of our recycled-oxygen fluorescent-flooded prison. That black hole of gross inequality in compensation, backdoor blow jobs to book the best window office, and beaten down workhorses hardly able to drag their loads anymore.
I return on a Thursday morning. “First day back for you and first day out for Cate,” they tell me.
“Fired? Quit? Leave of absence? Suspension without pay,” I ask. Not Cate I think. Not Cate the staff favorite who’d lately taken sides against the medieval rulers. Not Cate the rebellious fighter in her late fifties who is scheduled for open-heart surgery.
“Yes. Cate.,” they say. “Axed.”
She is just the first. The rest come during the layoffs. Layoffs and forced transitions. Shove-outs and dishonorable computer lockouts and pack-your-box-and-leave-I’m-sorry-you-just-squeezed-out-babies-but-we’ve-got-budgets-to-maintain-nevermind-the-hundred-thousand-we-somehow-lost-in-executive-mistakes.
Then come the multiple forms of full-times cut to part-times cut to “with this reduction in hours you don’t earn enough to keep your health insurance. Oh, say hi to the wife and kids!”
Some days after the bloodletting, it’s time for get-back-to-work-like-this-never-happened-at-all. Co-worker Kerry and I make our way down the hall. On every side huddled clusters hum with their now common whispers about how, in the midst of it all, a few of the fifteenth floor residents booked their trips to London and Spain. How – some of them walked away with camouflaged raises.
I feel scorched inside. A rage claws its way up my throat. It smokes up my eyes.
Maybe the whispers would bother me less, I think, if it somehow made sense. If these ‘superiors’ and so-called ‘leaders’ were aces at their jobs… but their glutton-induced obesity, cover-my-ass M.O. and soon-to-be-senility infests the entire pack. This is daily clear in their looks of quiet desperation and dead-eyed attacks aimed at each other. New trips and hidden raises are just the current way for them to keep their enemies close, by handing each other the spoils of war.
We all know. Of course we do. There are those snakes in our own ranks who do the same – but, aside from two of the executive pets, I have a soft spot for the snakes. Even with all of their scheming, most of them do no better than the rest of us – barely making the rent, barely keeping ourselves fed.
As Kerry and I wind our way down the northwest executive hall, we see them. Two of the worst offenders. The pair of medieval rulers start to laugh like dirty hyenas, their heads cocking back, their throats rippling.
Something about the stumpy one – Wendy, the champion of hiding-behind-her-browbeaten-assistant – something about her laughter chimes in my ear like a starting bell. Then… something about Tom, the tall, corpse-like CFO, something about his bony, overpaid, health-insured arm stabbing into the wall… it sticks with me, stays with me, suffocates me with anger, sends me spinning all the way into my rage.
“Greece this time?,” Tom cheeses to Wendy in plastic-faced awe.
“Then Turkey,” nods Wendy, her plump face bobbing up and down like a mid-blowjob prostitute. “We’re only walking to all of the five star restaurants this time. I have to break in my new shoes!“
I look at them, then. Those shoes. Those shoes that remind me of the richest women on Washington DC subways wrapped in Martha Stewart colors and only the finest of uptight clothes. Those shoes that clamp on her feet as if to shrink them, all of their thousand-dollar price tag trying to hide the excess of fat, but failing and pushing the doughy meat up, into her already-swollen calf.
We make our way by. “I wish someone would break her fatass legs,” I mutter to Kerry, both of us struggling as we pass not to reveal how much we want them impaled on wooden stakes shoved bluntly through the ass. Take it away, some dark mist thought breathes into my skull.
Within a few hours, word flies around. “Wendy just walked across the street and a car cut the light!” – “Barreled into her!” – “Crushed her!”
Crushed both of her shiny-shoed feet, I can’t help but think.
“Rushed to the hospital!,” come more of the murmurs. “They’re going to amputate her leg!”
I listen to all of the whispers and mock shell shock and subtext of glee from everyone around… and I look down at myself in the reflection of my locked cell phone screen.
Crushed? Amputate? Her leg? … Was that… it couldn’t be… couldn’t… but how was it… so accurately… what I… just… asked for… what I… just… achieved?
Check out this video: Gollum vs. Smeagol! Is THE CURE literature or is it just filth?
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About the Author
MC foley (Melinda Corazon Foley) was born in Cebu, Philippines, raised in Virginia and resides in West Hollywood, CA. After winning a poetry slam competition in Oakland, CA – MC Foley paid rent with the winnings, and began touring as a performance poet, doing shows across the U.S. and overseas, including tours through the UK and Denmark, where Foley performed on Denmark’s national radio station, Radio P3. Foley then wrote/acted lead in “The Coconut Masquerade,” a play written entirely in verse and produced by Bindlestiff Studio in San Francisco’s SOMA district. Segments of “Coconut,” were featured in theaters around the country including the national Hip Hop Theater Festival and LA’s Greenway Court Theater. Now in LA, MC Foley is an active novelist, studying screen and television writer and weekly e-columnist on The Business of Show Institute’s e-newsletter, which reaches 40,000+ global subscribers – thebusinessofshowinstitute.com. MC’s recent YA fantasy novel, The Ice Hotel, is currently being adapted to screen by the 2011 Oscar-nominated writers of THE FIGHTER – Paul Tamasy & Eric Johnson.
Are you an author that would like to be featured in Indie Author Excerpts? If so, check out this page and fill out the form. If your book is a good fit, I’ll be in touch soon.Disclaimer: All material and links in the Indie Author Excerpts feature have been provided voluntarily by the author, publicist or publisher. All materials quoted before publication date may change with final copy.
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