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![]() key man - excerpt...
Am I the Key Man? The sucker, the fucker, who puckered up and kissed the fat, zitty ass of the Goddess of Bad Luck? The only sad piece of crap that hears the grinding, ringing, mewling, howling, claxon of all the lost keys in the Rotten Apple?
You're goddamn right I am!
russo speaks...
I wrote this story because I'm fascinated by the every day things we take for granted. Like those little pieces of cheap stamped metal that we all carry. Keys are the talismans of our age. We hold them like wards against evil as we make our way through darkened parking lots. We entrust them with the protection of our valuables, our families, and out darkest secrets. The more we have, the more clout we're perceived to wield (who's the one person in a building everyone wants to be on good terms with, the CEO, or the janitor who can open every door?) The key and lock is a metaphor for sex, the most intimate and powerful of human endeavors.
If a key could talk, what would it say? I think it would be obsessed with its purpose- to open this door, to protect the contents of that safe. What about all those old keys we find in desk drawers, shoe boxes, and glove compartments? How would they react, unable to fulfill the duty that only they remember?
What if only one person could hear the cries of these forgotten keys, all of them, without respite?
russo bio...
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Plus six other short novels (approx 40,000 words each) that I'm looking to publish in a special 6-pack.
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