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If you’re one of those crying-to-your-shrink-cause-your-childhood-was-SO-hard type of people, you should probably read #1 New York Times Bestselling author Mick Foley’s fiction debut, Tietam Brown, for a reality check. Even if you’re not one of them, stop your whining and pick up the damn thing anyway.
Atietam “Andy” Brown is a seventeen year-old with a busted hand, and a missing ear. He’s arrived at his father’s house to start life anew after being raised alternately in foster homes and juvenile detention centers where his life hung by a thread on more than one occasion. With this fresh start in hand he hopes he’s got a shot at completing his childhood like a normal kid. But when he realizes that his father’s favorite activities are naked beer-guzzling weight lifting, and sleeping with his classmate’s mothers, well, let’s just say his prospects for the future are once again dimmed. That is, until he finds out that Terri, the hottest cheerleader in school, likes him. (Nice work, Andy!)
Funnier than professional wrestling and smarter than nuclear physics, Tietam Brown is sure to pin you for a three-count to your reading chair.
agreed, I would be out of hot water, and better yet, I could place the blame on her for not being there for me. I told the truth instead. Damn. “No, I saw you, but—” “But you left anyway?” “Well,” I mumbled, “kinda.” “Andy, how do you think that makes me feel?” she said with both hurt and anger apparent in her words. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Really.” “What did you see?” “Rambo.” “Rambo?” “Rambo.” “Andy, that’s our movie.” “I know.” “So.” “So?” “What were you thinking?” At this point I
Our washer and dryer lived down there, where I did the family laundry once a week, making sure to wash his nasty sheets, all by themselves so that they wouldn’t touch my undies. The basement also had a separate room, which was always locked. On several occasions, my dad had made it quite clear that my entry into that room was forbidden. But on this night, the forbidden zone was exactly where we went. Tietam fumbled with his key chain for a moment, then unlocked the door, insisting that I close
when her sadness overwhelmed her, emergency counseling was made available to her. Just a little over a year earlier, there was no sadness in Sandra Delanor’s life. She had what seemed to be an ideal existence. Victorian house, picket fence, a golden retriever named Shakes, a husband who was a pillar of the community, and a ten-year-old son whom she adored. A ten-year-old son who had accidentally stumbled upon his father’s pistol . . . and fired it. Little Wilson Delanor’s pictures were
Just one little thing. Any small sign to let me know he was scared. Instead he just smiled. On his knees, on his bed, naked and smiling. “Hell, that’s okay, son, let the cops come. Maybe Officer Charlie can be leading the charge. He can say hello to his wife, and then I’ll play him a tape of her tongue in my ass. How does that sound to you, son?” Gloria Sugling. The voice that I knew. She’d seemed so lonely last night, and now she lay naked before me, her face hidden in shame, her body shaking
question, it does seem a bit convenient.” “So you believe me?” “Yes, I do.” “So when can I get out?” “I fear it’s not that simple. There is the other matter that is quite troubling.” “Which is?” “Antietam, your father nearly lost his life from the beating that you gave him. His liver was severely lacerated, his body nearly drowned in its own blood. Two ribs were fractured, one of which punctured his lung. A testicle required drainage. Down the road he’ll need lots of work on what you did to