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A new Bizarro Western - Jumpers of the Purple Claim
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Donald wrote: "Well spank me and call me a cowboy"When. And how hard?
When does sordid lust become love?
South Sunday, Montana Territory, 1890-something. Jimmy Cummerbund has found a vein of gold. This action has officially pissed off the entire town, including its Neanderthal thugs, a hired gunman, a half-naked cowgirl in smoking-hot boots, and a British newspaper reporter. Some of these people will give aid to Jimmy; others will try to rape his sorry ass.
Remember folks, South Sunday is the villain here. Root for Jimmy! Root for Chief Warcloud. Root for any team but the Patriots.
Jumpers of the Purple Claim, while it does have a plot, is an off-key, dusty ride through the American West. Blood. Spiders. Huge weapons, sexy boots and bare legs, violent shoot-outs, wet panties, and soiled underwear.
Readers will discover that the great American Western has not died: It has been reincarnated into a sick and twisted Bizarro plot “so cunning you could put a tail on it and call it a weasel.”
Editorial praise:
“Perverted and sick. Should be banned!”
“Neanderthal rape isn’t funny. Bubble gum isn’t either, but thankfully there’s not of that in this book. If you read this, grab a puke bucket.”
“Who will think of the candy canes? Who will stand up for them?”
“This is a powerful love story. Except when it isn’t. Then it’s all guns and blood and hot chicks. A+!”
“I couldn’t stop looking at her legs in those hot boots!”
“Gross.”