Resistance is futile, but what the heck

Hello, everyone... or no one as it seems to be. Anyway still looking for Pagan Info.

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During another episode of book-signing wars, not knowing how long it would take to get to this particular city, I arrived somewhat early. Luckily a shopping mall was just across the street, so I whipped into the parking lot – because that is what one has to do to make the tight turn and avoid being rear-ended – and began to search for a parking spot. The traffic was atrocious. Finding an empty parking spot proved to be a challenge, but after several revolutions around the colossal lot I managed to grab one, receiving a through-the-glass lecture from an angry shopper in a Honda as payment.

I entered the mall intending to grab lunch, but found the food court even busier than the parking lot, so I walked around the mall until I felt conspicuous – I was really early – then went back to the car to pass the time. This was not a good idea. Other cars, which were looking for a spot, kept hovering around me, like buzzards circling a fresh kill. Finally, when the cars had stacked up three-deep on both sides, the drivers having given up circling, deciding there chances of getting a spot were better by participating in the intimidation ritual of the only guy in the lot still sitting in his car, I gave up and backed out. Why didn’t I just walk across the street to the bookstore? Let’s just say the street wasn’t designed for speeds under fifty miles per hour, let alone pedestrian traffic.


Pagan Research

Hello, everyone. For my new book, I'm looking for information related to pagan gods and goddesses. If anyone has any information, I'd appreciate hearing from you. Just email me at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

I have some exciting news. I’ve renegotiated the rights to Twisted Perception, and I now have a new publisher. The book is being re-released by Deadly Niche Press, an imprint of AWOC Books, and should be available under the new imprint by the time you receive this newsletter. Several people contacted me, saying they had tried to get the book, but found that it was unavailable. The distribution problems that caused this have now been resolved. The book can now be found in, or ordered from any bookstore, both on and offline. (ISBN: 0-937660-31-0)

On one of my recent excursions, I found myself driving along an old two-lane highway. Somehow I managed to get between a massive truck, carrying what looked like the next space shuttle, and it’s escort, which was complete with flapping flags, flashing lights, and a sign proclaiming; wide load. Okay, so I passed the big truck but couldn’t muster enough power from my mighty Neon to get around the escort in time to beat the oncoming traffic. There has to be a law against this, driving in the forbidden zone, violating the symbiotic relationship of tiny, flashing trucks and their slow-moving hosts. This situation lasted much longer than it should have. To make matters worse, the ostentatious escort slowly began to pick up speed. I guess my being on his tail made him nervous. I couldn’t help it. I was late for an appointment. You can probably guess what happened next. Soon my escort and I had left the wide-loaded behemoth behind. I was now the wide load. I got a lot of funny looks before I finally managed to get around that silly little truck.


I'm Back

All right, I can’t resist. Last month, I’d arrived early for a reading I was to give at one of Tulsa’s libraries. It was cold outside, and I was sitting in my car, sipping on a cola. After a few pulls on the straw, however, the cup seemed to run dry. I shook it. There was plenty left, just a lot of ice in the way. No problem. I’d just shove the straw up and down a little to loosen things up. This is not a procedure that I’d recommend. I managed to shake things up, but in the process I poked a large hole in the bottom of the Styrofoam cup, and of course the contents, that being ice and diluted cola, dumped out, falling onto the first thing below it, that being me. Have you ever seen what a watered-down cola stain looks like on freshly laundered kakis? Let me tell you, it isn’t pretty. Not one to fall apart in the midst of danger, I dashed into the library and found the restroom. As luck would have it, the restroom was equipped with one of those wall-mounted blow-dryer things. Somehow I managed to get the wet portion of my pants up high enough to do a pretty good job of alleviating the stain. In fact, you had to look pretty close to tell anything had happened. I hoped no one would do that. A few minutes later, I was in a room with a bunch of wonderful ladies who called themselves, The Mystery Readers Roundtable. I read from my book and had a great time.

My publisher submitted my book to the Oklahoma Center for the Book for the Oklahoma Book Awards. Wish me luck. On January 14, 2006 I’ll be signing books at the Full Circle Bookstore in Oklahoma City from 3:00 to 5:00 p.m.; February 15, I have a cable TV interview in Arlington, TX. It’s called Metroplex Today, with Comcast Cable, but I don’t know the channel or anything; March 18, I’ll be speaking at the Oklahoma Mystery Writers, a writing Club that meets one month in Tulsa, and one month in Oklahoma City; and on March 25, I’ll be at the High Desert Crimes Book Fair in Sierra Vista, AZ.

You have permission to reprint this newsletter, forward to anyone who might be interested, or use in your newsletter or e-zine. The only requirement is the inclusion of the following footer:

The contents of this newsletter were written by Bob Avey, author of Twisted Perception.


DVC and a bagel makes 3

I don't know about you, but I'm really getting tired of The Da Vinci Code, and all of the items spawned by the craze. Today I was standing in line at a grocery store, and there it was; on the cover of a magazine on the rack: Lose weight with the Da Vinci Code Diet. Discover the secret hidden in the pages of DVC for destroying fat.

For my next novel, I'm researching the dark side of paganism and dark Pagan Gods. If anyone out there has any good information on it, I'd like to hear from you. I might even put you in the novel, if the info is good enough. Contact me at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

A few times a day, while I’m at my day job, I walk the stairs for exercise. There are six flights with the last two, leading to the roof, existing for maintenance purposes. Not long ago I was involved in one of my little treks when I came upon a pair of shoes sticking out of the darkness of the final flight. The lights aren’t used there unless it’s maintenance time. And the shoes were not on the ground, as if someone was standing in them, but were upright as though the owner was lying down. As I drew closer, I saw that legs were indeed attached to the shoes. For a brief moment, I was panic stricken, wondering if I’d come upon a dead body. But it was just a person, a lady, sitting on the floor in the dark with her back against the cinder block wall. I didn’t ask. I just said, hello, and turned around and walked quickly away. I don’t know what she was wearing, but I’d bet it didn’t look very good after sitting on that dirty cement floor.


On the road…continued

This was around Christmas time. I'll get caught up one of these days.

With it being a new year, I thought I’d shake things up a bit and shift the emphasis from the perils of yours truly and meander across a few recent casual observations.

I’ve noticed a significant increase in the shiny-Christmas-deer-ornament population in the last few years. Not to be outdone, the subdivision where I live jumped on the bandwagon and acquired several of these artificial animals and placed them strategically near the entrances to the sub. I suspect the homeowners association acquired the lot at a bargain price, perhaps picking them up at a garage sale, for the little sparkling darlings looked a little off from the start – at least the ones stationed near the entrance that I use most often.

Not being merely statues, these blinking beauties laid claim to a rather awkward form of movement: the doe, being the hungrier of the two, would raise her head then lower it to the ground where she would munch a couple bites of grass before starting the process over again; the buck’s head rotated in constant vigil. These were no run of the mill plastic venison. As time passed, however, the pair’s motor skills began to deteriorate. By the time Christmas was near, it was almost painful to watch the poor deer in their gallant maintenance of their routine. The doe’s head, now stuck in the lowered position, could no longer reach a height of more than a couple inches, though she kept trying, which gave her the appearance of sadness, while the buck, having developed a rare neural disorder, twitched spastically. It wasn’t pretty.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, disaster struck. I believe it was the day after Christmas when I drove by to see the buck lying on his back, his four legs sticking in the air. But that wasn’t all. Perhaps someone could no longer take the ugly bump and grind of the mechanical pair and decided to take matters into their own hands. Not only was the buck on his back, but he’d also been decapitated, his twitching head writhing beside him. This alone would have been hard to take, but the sight of the buck’s heartbroken mate, weeping by his side, was just too much.

Read chapter one of Twisted Perception at

By the way, you have permission to reprint, or use the contents of this blog, or any part thereof. The only restriction is the inclusion of my name and website with the material. Thanks,

Bob Avey


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