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  Here is the text from the first six pages of my book, Means to an Ending. If you enjoy what you read head over to Createspace, Amazon

The Happy Traveler listlessly watched as the beads of a forgone rain raced down the pane of glass he rested his head on. The small, cold window of the airplane offered no sort of comfort, but this particular airline seemed to not be in that line of business. The fact that his head was lying on a window so as to avoid being buried in the gargantuan hair of the woman next to him should be ample proof of this conglomerate’s commitment to apathy. Oh, and he certainly was ecstatic about the thought of being scrunched up to the point of severe leg cramps by the child in the seat in front of him who seemed to be destined for an attention deficit diagnosis any day now.

Not that he would complain.

Just as he was approaching the climax of a particularly good session of wallowing in his own misery, he thought he had vaguely heard some sort of human contact. Just like a human, he thought, to ruin his self-loathing right when he was really starting to enjoy it. He reluctantly turned his head and was treated to the sight of an overly made-up, excessively chipper flight attendant flashing her disgustingly white teeth right in his face. He assumed she had said something asinine and of no particular importance, and he had all intentions of using on this girl the skill he had spent most of his life honing. The one skill that he thought had kept him going as long as he had in this world. Though try as he might to ignore this human aphid, he was appalled to hear a word of inquiry slip out of his mouth in his own voice. He would have been fine if some being of satanic origin had suddenly possessed his body and used his voice for such an act, but to hear himself wonder aloud to this woman what she had said was akin to rolling around naked in used hypodermic needles.

“Oh, I’m sorry honey, I just wanted to remind you to turn your cell phone off, if you would be kind enough to do so, sir,” she said, as if there were some semblance of an option. He wished he had the option of throwing the aforementioned phone in the direction of that dumb face and watching every single one of those nuclear reactions she called teeth fall out one by one, but society unfortunately didn’t lend him that choice. Sometimes he hated society. Especially when he didn’t have his phone and he had to interact with it. And especially when he was stuck in a small tube flying through the air with a bunch of mouth-breathing nimrods who wanted to talk about their wholly uninteresting children or what hole in the earth town they were from. He looked at The Hair next to him and was fully prepared for a conversation about how her son was the star of the high school football team in Trans Fat, Alabama.