Bøger af Dani Brown

Take ket. Eat baboon brains. Burn it all.Jay and Tiffany aren't your average captive pandas, they're the King and Queen of all pandas. They don't appreciate being held in Oslo zoo. The distinct lack of baboon brains deprived them of the nutrients they and their family required. Malnourishment can't prevent the pandas flying into a rage when they see a black metaller in full panda-style corpse paint mulling around. They bust out of the zoo and quickly deplete the world's supply of ketamine while hunting black metallers and neo-nazis and leaving nothing but carnage and torched churches in their wake through Northern Europe. As actual Nazis being tortured in Hell take offence to the pandas, they break out of Hell. Demons follow to try to bring them back in and form an alliance with the pandas. This book has it all: Copious drug consumption. Bad things happening to Nazis. Orgies. Church burnings. Violence. Black metal.Techno.And lots and lots of blood shed.

There was a time when toenails were plentiful and I could swallow one down while pressing the button for eight more minutes of blissful sleep. Clamminess washed over me. There was no way I would be able to make it to work like this. I needed toenails to start my morning right. In the grips of withdrawal I could not think of anything other than toenails and scoring toenails. Toenails were all that mattered. Ripping the duvet away from the wife was the difficult part. She held it in death's grip beneath her chin and tucked between her legs. I became used to never having any blanket - not even a little patch. I would crank up the heat when I woke with my midnight toenail cravings regardless of the season; a little bit of spite courtesy of good ol' dad. My wife would still be reluctant to liberate the duvet despite sleeping in a pool of her own sweat that turned the flakes of dead skin into slush. I once tried to satisfy my cravings with this skin slush; day-long diarrhoea left me on the toilet and the family had to use the outdoor one. Shaking, it was more difficult to pry the duvet away from her. The withdrawals became worse each day. It seemed her grip on the duvet became tighter as the withdrawals became worse - her subconscious conspiring against me. The back of her mind knew I was no good for her and should trade her in for a younger model.I only needed access to her feet. Toe jam wasn't as good a substitute for toenails as dick cheese but I needed to make it into work today and every other day for the rest of the fucking year. The board of directors were the biggest bunch of loser arse-ferrets this world has ever seen. I could not even provide an accurate description of what it was I did all day or a clear title for the job that would be on the line if I had a sick day.

After his mother dies from a "three strikes" health care rule, fourteen-year-old Cody loses faith in his physician father who, despite his best efforts, was unable to save her. Three years later, as a seventeen-year-old high school senior, Cody must decide whether to continue to care for his younger sisters or pursue his own dreams of attending college. His decision is further complicated when he finds a disturbing letter meant for his father. Choices become even more limited when his father tells him the government has demanded he work for them. Uncertain of their future in America, Cody's dad decides the family must escape to Canada. The children are admitted to America's northern neighbor due to a computer glitch, but their father is arrested by government agents. Cody and his sisters are desperate to help their remaining parent, and the struggle ahead of them will see them face the most difficult decisions of their young lives. In the vein of The Giver and The Swiss Family Robinson, Choices is a dramatic coming-of-age tale that tackles challenging social issues against a rich backdrop of adventure and suspense.

"My moustache twitched in an effort to escape the confines of a bucket of cream, hair ointment and the extensions I had put in last week. It wanted to compete with Teddy's natural face locks and show that it, too, could stand proud. The hair on my arms had only run of the mill body lotion to keep it in place, which in the unexplained circumstances I found myself in with Teddy Dick that late summer morning, was of complete uselessness. It stood up on end. I looked over at Teddy. The desire to see a facial hair out of place, snap a picture and post it online was too strong to resist. But his face hair was perfect, as always, leaving my heart to sink and ponder what I must look like (I refused to confirm my suspicions by looking in the mirror). The hair on his arm closest to me was in a state similar to my own. At least not everything about him was perfect. It was confusing that someone could be so perfect and yet, still be such a dickhead."

LALA found she couldn't move. The molten plastic acted as a glue to keep her in place. It was hard to move with a fist inside herself anyways. But that hasn't stopped her from answering the door in the past, usually to Jehovah's Witnesses who ran off puking and gouging out their own eyes with their fingertips. She wanted to make it easier for her anus to swallow green Monopoly houses by altering her position. The molten, hardening plastic wouldn't allow it. It seemed to her that it had a mind of its own. The government and shadow government both prayed to different Gods it would kill her. Then the black hole would die as it would have served its purpose. She wanted more houses, less already-molten plastic. Molten plastic didn't hold the same potential for pleasure as emerald green houses. Game pieces, if they somehow passed through her still solid, could fill her anus and sealed vagina, making her feel like a turkey fresh from the oven on Thanksgiving....

56 Seconds back for 2023 with no changes to the text, but a new short author introduction.Fog filled the dance floor with a press of a button. She's out there in the fog. But so is the Other. Love/lust gone in an explosion lasting 56 seconds and lost on the sheets. Lost in DJ Donnie's (still a dick, still a jerk) total lack of social skills. She was gone. Blocked. Deleted in a fit of rage. Her photo so carefully printed off from an internet search and held together with tape. Borderline can't say no to impulse. Her mouth. Cold like ice. Marcy'll suck his soul dry. Honey screamed from inside his head. Trapped and frozen in honey. A simple glitch. Marcy's ice is the only thing that is real... "The flow of of the prose is poetic and beautiful... a story about perception where the gross can be captivating, the repulsive sublime and affection is a transmutable infection. It's bizarre, horror, romance, erotica and finely-tuned prose poetry." -amazon review "Very dreamlike writing, almost nightmarish, with this beautifully strange, lyrical prose. A collection of short, hypnotic paragraphs that read like bible verses to the pounding rhythm of house music." - amazon review "It collects a mosaic of images, similar to a strobe light, which gives the reader a half-blind view of this world." - amazon review

A nauseating expedition into the minds of ten indie writers that refuse to accept boundaries exist. Repulsive Tales is not an anthology for the faint of heart or stomach of the weak. Contained within are stories that tickle the gag reflex and conjure the horrors that lurk in the shadows around every corner. Each piece, although grotesque and demented, is much more than the average splattergore shocker. Mingled amidst Quentin Tarantino's Wet Dream and a twisted tale about the love for John Stamos, are stories that represent everyday people, maybe even your neighbor, that have blood on their hands and dark secrets to hide. Share in the terror that is Jed's Homemade Soup and learn to hate That Damned Dog while you enjoy a Dinner to Die for and just say Fork You to everything you once loved. Will you make it all the way through without puking at each Repulsive Tale? Featuring stories by The Queen of Filth - Dani Brown, Brian Glossup, Essel Pratt, Howard Carlyle, J.L. Lane, James H. Longmore, Jason Morton, Michael Noe, Rob Glagow, and William Bradley.

Jo-Jo needs attention from online lovers. Her baby cries from the box room. Her baby is sick. The online lovers shower her with sympathy and their bank account details. Old Woman Mabel downstairs doesn't like the sound of the baby crying. She bangs on her ceiling with her broom handle. Comforting the baby takes Jo-Jo away from her computer screen.

Rae is her name. Our support group of embittered and most likely deranged women are going to kidnap, torture, disembowel and finally kill the woman who has ruined all our lives. As foul and as grotesque as she is, she acts like she's Queen of the Bean.Rae, her buck-tooth grin and rosy cheeks of middle age acne reflected winter sun. Straw-like blonde hair obscured by the veil and tiara she enjoyed parading around in. She walked past our window with sickening confidence oblivious to us and our weak tea. Rae. Everything was always about Rae. Was she a princess today, or was she a bride? Did she know or care? Did it even matter? We wished we could be that delusional and walk around with an air of not giving a damn.Rae believes she is above the pain she has caused. Beyond the whimpering of her victims. Out of reach of vengeance. Our support group of women do not agree. Judgement day is here for Rae. Our support group will enjoy every moment of agonizing torment and misery we will force her to endure.Rae has got it coming.

Dreams die in sheds in Suburban Hell, traded for garden decorations so the neighbours can see how well everyone conforms. Matthew was a popstar, once. His band went on and made it without him, so now every night he goes to the shed to jerk off over his keytar, the one Karen wants him to give up so that she can get higher-tier garden decorations. But too much semen could break his beloved instrument, so Matthew builds Sparky, a robot that takes his cum.One night, Sparky comes to life, but soon discovers he has no voice. And why would he? Matthew built him to swallow spunk, not to speak. Left in the shed after he serves his purpose, Sparky sets out on a journey to find a voice. Along the way he meets Sandy, a robot like him, only Sandy is powered by a different man, an evil man. Together, Sparky and Sandy scour every inch of their neighbourhood, breaking into nearby garden sheds, exposing the neighbours, all in search of a voice for Sparky the Spunky Robot.