Monday, May 21, 2007



I was right in the middle of hot cybersex with an eighteen-year-old boy from Slovakia when I realized the house was quiet—dead quiet. Thank God! Lord Nelson, the blind and elderly Shih-Tzu, had yapped incessantly since I had arrived, outraged at being left behind with the house-sitter.

I prepared to flog russianboi69, bound and gagged in the virtual dungeon, when it dawned on me that I had left Fluffy’s terrarium uncovered after checking on her earlier. She wasn’t due for a live feeding until tomorrow.

An eerie, protracted screech from the dining room pierced the silence as something squeezed the life out of Lord Nelson’s favorite squeak toy. “Be right back,” I typed.

I flipped on the light just in time to see Lord Nelson’s heinie disappear into Fluffy’s detached jaws. How would I explain this to the Weinsteins? I decided a dognapping was in order, and went in search of magazines to cut up into a ransom note.

Author bio:

Sporty yet casual, Jef is a native Texan transplanted to Atlanta. He is a novelist, screenwriter, poet, and essayist, with a focus on making unusual people and circumstances relatable to everday readers. Jef has an abiding love for 80s music--especially Bananarama. For more information, please visit

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