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302 pages, Paperback
First published December 3, 2011
“Yeah, I wonder if they have insurance in case one of the dancers gets bit? Imagine sitting there getting ready for the show wearing nothing but feathers and tassels,” Ulyssa said, twirling her fingers in circles by her boobs for emphasis, ” . . . and BAM! A squirrel bites a boob!”And through a misunderstanding of coded language, our heroines end up working for a gangster who wants a man killed. The rest of the book is their attempts to actually kill him, justifying their choice because he’s a bad person. And, well, it couldn’t be any worse than hitting a deer with your truck.
We both shuddered thinking about a crazed squirrel swinging by the teeth from our boobs.
“Ouch! Don’t forget they carry diseases too? That would doubly suck! Getting a squirrel bite and a rabies shot in the boob! I hate squirrels!” I said.
“Yeah, me too. They’re evil, furry rats!”
“What if there are squirrels in the parking lot right now just waiting to attack us for our boob jerky? Maybe they’re circling the car looking for a way in . . .”
“If I break this oath, I will suffer the justice of my Hillbilly ancestors and my trailer will fall off the blocks. And Shasta can put a Democrat sign in my front yard.”Marita Fowler weaves the world building into the story itself, never pausing to info-dump on the reader and take them out of the story. Even some of the word choices, such as a guy who accidentally says “applediziacs” instead of “aphrodisiac,” reminds readers of they type of town in which Fat Assassins is set.