The website of the greatest pulp fiction writer who ever lived
A pilot crashes his plan on a small island populated entirely by sex-starved gorgeous women during WWII and takes turns having sex with each of them until Nazis show up looking for him. The women then buy the pilot time to escape by having sex with the Nazis. That’s pretty much the whole story. The rest is just 178 pages of sex scenes. It sold well in the Bible Belt.
Hack used to have brunch with a group of pathetic degenerates, one of whom fancied himself as having a remarkable way with words. One day while the yahoo was holding court, he used the word “contiguous” in conversation, which Hack admitted that he didn’t know the meaning of. When the dolt offered a condescending definition, Hack went home to look up the word and discovered to his delight that the idiot was completely wrong about what it meant. Hack was so thrilled about catching his nemesis in the mistake that he spent that night writing this murder mystery to immortalize it, a copy of which he slipped in the idiot’s coffin when he died of a brain hemorrhage three years later.
A group of poor virgins are deflowered by some rich boys in fast cars. It ends in a drag race between the only girl not to die of syphilis in her father’s jalopy and the leader of the boys in his 1962 Covair. Just as the boy is about to cross the finish line, his car crashes in a fire ball and he is castrated by its stick shift.
This novel was inspired by Hack’s honeymoon for his disastrous first marriage in 1958. Hack took his new bride to Niagara Falls but they were followed by a small-time hood that Hack owed money to who was furious that Hack spent his last few dollars on his honeymoon instead of paying him back. The hood attempted to shoot Hack but he hit his new bride instead before being gunned down by local law enforcement. The girl went into a coma and Hack had the marriage annulled before putting her in a bargain-basement hospital where she remains in a comatose state to this day. The book sold well and served loosely as the basis for the 1966 Tony Curtis comedy “Not with my Wife, You Don’t.”
A devilishly handsome soldier of fortune and his dog save a beautiful blonde from a fate worse than death at the hands of local mercenaries, only to subject her to a fate worse than death after they free her.
A fugitive from the mob hides out in the home of a gorgeous, reclusive widow who makes him her sex slave in return for her protection. One by one, the mobsters are all killed off so she has her butler knock on her door from time to time pretending to be them in order to continue the rouse. When he finally figures it out, the fugitive turns the tables by making the widow his sex slave.
You’ve just been saved 147 pages of mind-numbingly boring reading.
A mysterious stranger shows up to clean out the city of criminal scum, so the women he saves thank him with gifts of anal sex.
“Either one of Werker’s worst or best books, depending on your point of view.”
-The Tolucan Times
Hack wrote this at the height of his cocaine addiction in the early 1970s and was consumed with paranoia that everyone he knew was out to kill him. That was an enormous exaggeration, although everyone he knew undoubtedly hated his guts.
The prostitutes of worked in the brothel that he hung out in as a child would tease young Herschel that they had all had sex with Santa and that Saint Nick was into some pretty hardcore stuff. One day, an immensely obese man with a long white beard came in for a BDSM session and Hack attacked him with a butcher knife, claiming he would kill him if he ever saw him again. Hack spent the next forty years trying to hunt down Santa and even staged an expedition to the North Pole to track him down.
This was based on an incident when Hack was living in the basement of a woman he was attracted to, leading to (in Hack’s words) “a big misunderstanding.” It ended amicably, with the woman allowing Hack to publish this novel that he wrote in jail as long as he agreed to stay at least 500 yards away from her at all times.