First, I like Myra. She's funny, opinionated, and enjoys my locker room poetry. She also tweeted me once, whatever that means.
Second, it gives me another book to pimp, and ever since Chris's book, The Fourth Stall, got kicked around like a ginger in Calabasas, I've been hankering for a book to promote. So mark the summer of 2011 on your calendar, folks, and get yourself to your local Amazon when Hourglass hits the virtual shelves. Because it's gonna be timeslippin' awesome.
Third, once Myra becomes a big shot, fancy pants writer with Ruthian clout she'll probably be able to get my collection of vulgar poems in the hands of an editor. And then the entire world will be able to enjoy the following and I will profit from it.
There are no bubbles in my bath.
My mom says we ran out.
"Well why didn't you buy some more!" I say.
"You no-good, shortsighted Kraut!"
“Young man, I don’t care for your tone.”
I push real hard, grunt, and say,
“I guess I’ll just make my own.”