| Author: | Bull Blue | ISBN: | 9780463377277 |
| Publisher: | Lot's Cave, Inc. | Publication: | January 11, 2019 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Bull Blue |
| ISBN: | 9780463377277 |
| Publisher: | Lot's Cave, Inc. |
| Publication: | January 11, 2019 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
DESCRIPTION:
When a twenty year old pretty boy discovers he knows more about the world of hip-hop over any other forms of music, he delves into the world of jazz with a saxophonist and bass player both twice his age that snowballs into a complicated love affair.
EXCERPT:
“I’ll fuck you ‘til you love me, faggot!” Roscoe, the tenor saxophonist screeched from the stage of the café lounge with a handful of band mates holding him back.
Homer, a bass player, who wasn’t performing that night and sitting next to me on the far end of the room jumped to his feet causing his chair to fly from under him back towards the window shouted, “Don’t mistake me for your daddy, you dick-sucking horn blower!”
“C’mon, then, bring it, motherfucker!”
“Guess what, motherfucker–fuck you and the horse you rode in on motherfucker!” Homer howled, shooting Roscoe the bird.
“Your mama!”
“Fuck you and your ho-ass mama and your bottle-chugging daddy, you reformed prison bitch! Is it true what they say? Cocksucker’s anonymous is like drug rehab–one less dick at a time? At the rate you’re going you should be down to a hundred and twelve by Christmas!”
Roscoe tried his best to come off the stage in spite of the crowd steadily holding him back. Homer tried storming the stage with an emerging crowd trying to hold him back. I was left shaking my head, trying to find the quickest way out of the room.
How did I end up at a jazz lounge with two mediocre jazz musicians fighting over me? The simple answer would be my interest in jazz.
DESCRIPTION:
When a twenty year old pretty boy discovers he knows more about the world of hip-hop over any other forms of music, he delves into the world of jazz with a saxophonist and bass player both twice his age that snowballs into a complicated love affair.
EXCERPT:
“I’ll fuck you ‘til you love me, faggot!” Roscoe, the tenor saxophonist screeched from the stage of the café lounge with a handful of band mates holding him back.
Homer, a bass player, who wasn’t performing that night and sitting next to me on the far end of the room jumped to his feet causing his chair to fly from under him back towards the window shouted, “Don’t mistake me for your daddy, you dick-sucking horn blower!”
“C’mon, then, bring it, motherfucker!”
“Guess what, motherfucker–fuck you and the horse you rode in on motherfucker!” Homer howled, shooting Roscoe the bird.
“Your mama!”
“Fuck you and your ho-ass mama and your bottle-chugging daddy, you reformed prison bitch! Is it true what they say? Cocksucker’s anonymous is like drug rehab–one less dick at a time? At the rate you’re going you should be down to a hundred and twelve by Christmas!”
Roscoe tried his best to come off the stage in spite of the crowd steadily holding him back. Homer tried storming the stage with an emerging crowd trying to hold him back. I was left shaking my head, trying to find the quickest way out of the room.
How did I end up at a jazz lounge with two mediocre jazz musicians fighting over me? The simple answer would be my interest in jazz.
