Group Sex with Me & Mary Shelley

Hi My name is Jamie and I have written a wonderful new novel entitled ICK!

Victor “Frankenstein” DeVito realizes his lifelong dream of becoming a mad scientist by creating Industrial Color Killer, a living turpentine enzyme. While stripping paint off the hull of a US warship, ICK breaks free and goes berserk, turning the ocean, land, plants and animals all the same shade of off-white. Victor must battle anarchist color revisionists (CRAYON), Black nationalists angry at no longer being black, Vatican spies and his own demons to subdue his greatest creation.

It’s a great novel. It’s a total mad scientist novel. I mean – how cool is that? Don’t you just fucking LOVE mad scientists? And if you don’t, then ask yourself: just what the hell is wrong with you, anyway?

My favorite novel in the entire universe is Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. Did you know that Mary was hanging with Lord Byron and Percy Bysshe Shelley the summer she wrote it? They were all crashing at this castle on Lake Geneva in Switzerland, being all louche and taking drugs and writing ghost stories and Mary – sweet, meek, nobody-pays-attention-to-her Mary, the Mary they sent out for beer runs in the row boat and more or less ignored when time came for group sex – Mary wound up writing Frankenstein, the ghost story of all ghost stories. And now she’s more famous than either of those two bums. So I sort of identify with her, right? Like, I could totally see rowing the boat out on the beer run with her, and being ignored during group sex  (because assholes, hey?).

So I have this mad scientist novel up at Amazon Kindle Scout. All I need are enough people to go to the website, click the nominate button and BOOM. I’m in the running for a book contract and all kinds of neat, free advertising and stuff.

So click and nominate. And if you don’t then ask yourself why. Could it be perhaps as a result of some mean heartedness on your part? Could it be that I perhaps intimidate you with my all-consuming, mysterious machismo? Or maybe that you just don’t like novels that start with the letter I. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. What the hell does it cost you to click, go and nominate? Seriously. You can’t DO that? I mean, what? ARE YOU DEVELOPMENTALLY IMPAIRED OR SOMETHING? I mean, EVEN IF YOU WERE, it’s not like I’m asking you to perform open heart surgery or compose the Oratorio for Prague or volunteer for 6 months building a Burma railway, for Christ’s sakes. JUST CLICK ON THE DAMN THING! You get to read an excerpt and everything! If not for me, do it for Mary.

And thank you. So much.

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