Foreword
So, now another collection of weird-ass short stories has arrived in my Gmail inbox. Lovely. Just what I needed – more clutter. I was really hoping that Mike would stop after the previous installment. [Volume 1] I mean, why dig a deeper moat around an abandoned house of forgotten cards? (Yeah, I bet he uses that line in a story.)
Well, our scribe really has no sense of what people like to read nowadays. Mike claims that he’s filling a niche of a niche (playing to an audience of a dozen, I bet). But, oh boy, it’s all just oh-so- hopelessly out of step with the times. Yes, I told him to do more media-tie-in pieces, but, I digress (and hopefully can digest).
It was during a late February snowstorm that I went ahead and read them. All of them. Groan. There were times when I wanted to slap him back to his senses. The puns, suspected thoughts, improbable inferences, stilted conversation, and overall suspicion of words grew almost tiresome. Well, almost. He kept me reading all the way through no. 39. Now, I am demanding a refund. I was had. Fooled. Fell into his open-pit, poorly guarded ruse. And, what’s worse, these strange vignettes have stained my brain. You see, I can’t un-remember what I read. I suspect it was intended. Bastard!
What is the subject matter you ask? Well, once again, most of them are rambling travel pieces with his wife, who he still insists on calling Monique (her code name) for some unbeknownst reason. And, why he needs to be called Parkaar is beyond me. It’s nuts.
Oh, and another thing: This psecret psociety gimmick is still in full force – or full farce. (I just had a nice chuckle.) The addressing of each other as Agent 32 and Agent 33 in public settings continues ad nauseam. I mean, really? That gag got old five years ago. Stop! What’s more, if these are the stories of a genuine secret society, why is he publishing them for all of the internet to read? It really makes no sense. But, who’s counting anymore? Certainly not me.
– Herman S. Goetze [Taos, New Mexico, USA]