A buck doesn’t get you much these days. But here’s a short list of products you can purchase on Amazon for $0.99!
1) Pineapple Shaped Bottle Opener
2) Makeup Brush
3) Mini Funnel
4) 2-ounce Plastic Spray Bottle
5) Silicone Oil Brush
6) LED Elephant
7) Multifunction Garlic Tool
8) Cosmetic Sponge
9) Glue Stick
10) My short story “Handgina” about a bitter young man shocked to find a part of the female anatomy growing out of the palm of his hand!
Pick up “Handgina” (cover art by The Rïpröck) for $0.99 for your Kindle or gift it to a friend (or frenemy)!
My latest short story, “Handgina,” is now available on the evil Amazon for a mere 99 cents (cover art by the RïpRöck)!
A bitter man reeling from a breakup is convinced women have it easy compared to men. When a part of the female anatomy starts growing out of the palm of his hand, he faces a series of ordeals that help him see things from a new perspective.
Read the story for $4 in issue #5 of The Rock N’ Roll Horror Zine!
Subscribe to Josh’s Worst Nightmare free monthly e-newsletter, where I–author Josh Schlossberg–survey the dark landscape of today’s horror fiction!
Inside each issue you’ll find my infamous Haiku Horror Reviews of the latest horror fiction, where to find my published works and media appearances, and the darkest of ramblings from my innermost psyche.
Read my flash fiction story, “Long Strange R.I.P.” in issue #5 of the Rock N’ Roll Horror Zine along with several other gnarly horror writers for a mere $4!
Here’s a teaser:
“Long time no see, Mr. Garcia.” Satan slouched on his throne of charred ribcages and femurs at the center of a vast dim obsidian hall. “Whatever can I do for you?”
The heavy-set, white-haired and bearded man—basically Santa Claus in glasses and a black T-shirt—stood with his feet planted wide on the ashy stone, sulfurous gases twining around his legs like friendly cats. “You know damn well why I’m here,” Jerry said.
“Written any new jingles?” Satan’s black lidless eyes oozed like tar as he scratched the mushroom head of the ghoul squatting to his side. “I still get a kick out of that one song. How does it go? ‘Set out running but I take my time, a friend of the devil is a friend of mine.’”
“It’s gotta stop.”
“Is my singing that bad?” Satan flashed hundreds of tiny, immaculate teeth and the thing beside him tittered. “I forgot to congratulate you on the Hall of Fame induction. Quite the honor.”
“Leave Vince alone.” Jerry stuck out a trembling pointer finger, the finger beside it absent.
“Ah, yes, how is Mr. Welnick? Still tickling the ivories to your satisfaction?”
Jerry shook his head, spraying droplets of sweat that evaporated in mid-air. “You can’t keep killing them.”