What follows is an excerpt from the second book in my Armageddon series, The Nephilim and the False Prophet. You won’t find it in the Look Inside feature of the Amazon product page; this chapter is from later in the novel, when Bill learns the price of denial. If you haven’t read the first book in the Armageddon series, The Blessed Man and the Witch yet, you may want to hold off on reading this.

 

Chapter 15: Bill — Teamwork

     The latest in the longest string of baseless lawsuits ever brought to a courtroom by the hardest-working ambulance chaser in Los Angeles has been put on hold by a judge yesterday in L.A. County’s Superior Court of California. The butt of all the worst lawyer jokes you’ve ever heard, George Smolla, is suing every company that has ever used the Happy Guy logo on any piece of clothing, artwork, or other paraphernalia, digital or physical. His client claims to have drawn the symbol ten years ago in her basement, which makes it an open-and-shit case (no, that’s not a typo). It’s pretty much impossible to find a place that doesn’t have the Happy Guy splattered somewhere, so basically he’s suing the entire world. If Smolla can get a settlement on a nuisance case from someone with deep pockets, more power to him…

    You’ve Been Oversued Blog, 10/02/2016

“Come on, grandma. At least drive the speed limit,” Bill muttered. All he could see through the rear windshield of the car ahead were knuckles on the steering wheel and fluffy white hair peeking above the headrest.

What is it about COEXIST bumper stickers that make people think they can drive like assholes? Figures it’s not a Happy Guy sticker. Grandma here doesn’t qualify—

His phone rattled in the center console.

“Hey, Mo,” he answered.

“How’s it going? You still at the office?” Maureen asked.

Bill had to slow down even more when the old lady started riding the brake. “On my way home. Just gotta get gas.”

“Okay, cool. How’d it go today?”

With a humorless chuckle he said, “Great. None of the fumblefucks shot themselves or anyone else, so we’re playing with house money. Most of ‘em didn’t really hit the target either, but Homeland Security’s not about accuracy. Just there to get the participation certificate, and then right back to sniffing panties at bus stops on the government tit. Another standard work day.”

A brief pause. “I guess I’m glad I didn’t put the phone on speaker,” Maureen said dryly. “Jonah’d learn all sorts of new words.”

“How’s my little man doing?”

“Good. He’s had a good pain day, actually.”

Nodding, Bill said, “Good deal.” Fucking stigmata. Thanks for that, Heck. Thanks, Blessed Man, wherever you are. “I’ll try to be home by his bedtime. He watching Doc McStuffins?”

Maureen snorted into the phone. “What else? He wants to see the Nice Man.”

“Still fixated on that, huh.”

“Well…” Maureen said, drawing the word out, “I think he sees the dad as a TV version of you. Sort of.”

Putting a smile into his voice, Bill replied, “Kind of a stretch, seeing that I’m an old white man and Doc’s dad is a black guy, but sure, I can see that.”

“Maybe he misses Tim, then.”

He’s not the only one. Thanks for that too, Heck. “Could be,” he said, took a deep breath to settle himself, and added, “Anyway, I’ll be home in a few minutes. If the world don’t end before I get there.”

“Har de har har. See you soon.”

“Yup. Bye.” He hung up and hit the turn signal when he saw the green 7-11 sign. Even though they irritated her, his end-of-the-world jokes had become habitual since the Occupy Riots. She still believes in that Armageddon crap, even though it was all bullshit. The world’s still turning. A little more fucked up, but still—

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