Second Coming

Second Coming

by D B Borton


Publisher Boomerang Books

Published in Literature & Fiction/Humor, Humor & Entertainment, Literature & Fiction, Literature & Fiction/Contemporary, Science Fiction & Fantasy

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Book Description


Hank Jones isn’t kidnapped by aliens. He goes voluntarily.

This comic novel is not so much about space aliens but about celebrity in 21st-century America, the seductiveness of consumer culture, human self-destructiveness, and the pleasures of friendship, dogs, and rock ‘n roll

Sample Chapter

He was the tallest human being I’d ever seen, on or off a basketball court, but broad-shouldered, like an offensive lineman. He had just walked in, and stood with his back to me, so I could see only his silhouette. He stood with his legs apart, scanning the room, and the pose seemed familiar to me somehow. Then he turned in my direction. He was wearing a sport coat that looked like it had been cut from a charcoal plaid tablecloth, an open-necked gray textured shirt, and black pants. Wavy dark hair combed back from his forehead gleamed under the artificial light. He wore long sideburns. Deep-set eyes drooped sleepily under long lashes, until he saw us, and then they opened wide. He smiled, the left side of his upper lip lifting like a lopsided stage curtain over a nice set of teeth and a full lower lip. Semiotics would be wasted on him. The King had returned as Bigfoot.

I rapped the Englishman on the elbow with my knuckles. “Hey, man,” I said, watching the tall man advance toward us. “You got a friend? Tall dude looks like Elvis Presley on growth hormones?”

The tall guy reached us as the Englishman turned around. The Englishman didn’t seem all that happy to see his buddy, which dimmed the wattage on the tall guy’s smile. Now that he was close, he didn’t look all that much like Elvis Presley. Or rather, he looked more like an Elvis impersonator than like the King himself. His crooked smile pushed his cheeks up under his eyes and gave him kind of a goofy look.

“I’ve been waiting a long time,” he said to the Englishman, a little reproachfully, I thought. “I came to find you.”

“That’s my fault,” I said. “He was letting me bend his ear. Tell you the truth, we’re both a little bit soused.”

The tall one’s smile wavered, and he glanced at the Englishman’s ear.

“Henry,” I said. “Go by Hank.” I offered my hand to the other stranger as well, and he took it, though he almost missed the opportunity because he was glaring at Elvis.

“My name’s Smith,” he said. “Lawrence.”

“Mr. Henry,” Elvis repeated.

I shook my head. “Just Henry. Hank.”

“Like Henry Wadsworth Longfellow,” Elvis said. “‘By the shores of Gitchee Gumee—,’” he recited. “And Henry Ford! And the bald boy in the funny papers—the funniest living American.”

“Plenty of Henrys,” I agreed. “Plenty of Lawrences. But not many Elvises.”

“I know,” he agreed happily. He slid onto the barstool next to me, tucking his long legs under the bar by bending his knees. “What are we drinking, cats?”


Excerpted from "Second Coming" by D B Borton. Copyright © 2017 by D B Borton. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher. Excerpts are provided solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
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Author Profile

D B Borton

D B Borton

D. B. Borton lives in a small Midwestern college town, where she teaches writing, film, and literature at Ohio Wesleyan University. She has published eleven mystery novels in two series, the Cat Caliban series (Berkley, Hilliard and Harris) and the Gilda Liberty series (Fawcett). As an academic writer, she has published work on film, women’s literature, and the supernatural; she is co-author of Haunting the House of Fiction: Feminist Perspectives on Ghost Stories by American Women and Ghost Stories by British and American Women. She has also written for Ms. magazine.

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