The website of the greatest pulp fiction writer who ever lived
A gorgeous young virgin enters the seamy world of prostitution in order to find her missing father and discovers that she digs it. The ending has the mob boss who kidnapped her daddy torn limb from limb by a grizzly bear that she befriended.
It’s pretty wild.
Hack’s life-long belief in Santa Claus began when the madam of the brothel he worked in as a boy told him that she was Santa’s mistress, and that Saint Nick was into “rough trade” and that he would beat her sadistically on a regular basis. Hack spent the next forty years trying to track down the jolly old elf so that he could kill him.
This was based on a real-life incident where Hack invited three “nymphomanics” (in his words) over to trim a Christmas tree at a place he was house-sitting at while his van was being repaired. His plan was to use the ritual to start an orgy but things went awry when he went to the garage to get the ornaments and got locked in. The girls ultimately staged an orgy amongst themselves while Hack spent the night trying to fight off a rabid racoon that wanted to attack his genitals.
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.
Of all the things Hack despises about President Trump, the one that he finds the most mystifying is the commander in chief’s alleged love of the Golden Shower. “I’ve been peed on more times than I can count,” said Hack in an interview with The Christian Science Monitor, “usually after having the snot beat out of me in a bar fight. Believe me, there’s nothing hot about it.” When Hack heard about Trump’s alleged fetish, he adapted a short story he had written in 1958 about an enormous retarded green slime monster who took over the planet. Its downfall was it’s fetish for being urinated on, which melted its leathery skin into dust.
“I really just had to change the color of the thing,” said Hack while accepting a National Book Award for his effort, “and it was about Trump.”
This was based on one of Hack’s many efforts to bring down his cover artist Jonny M.’s pug Boris. He hired a gorgeous prostitute to promise to have sex with Jonny if he would betray Boris in an assassination attempt Hack had set up. Jonny refused to betray the pug but the prostitute had sex with him anyway, and Hack wound up shooting his own toe off when they conned him into believing that the scheme would go off as planned.
“A secretary spends her entire work day receiving anal sex from her married boss. One wonders when they ever got any work done around there.”
– The Tolucan Times
A motorcycle gang comprised on men in their fifties ascend up a local girls high school and introduce the Valedictorian to the wonders of anal intercourse on her 18th birthday. But a gorgeous student teacher spanks the defiance out of her and when she receives an acceptance letter to Harvard on graduation day, she thanks her guardian angel with a torrid weekend of violent lesbian sex. Very loosely based on the teenage years of Ruth Bader Ginsburg.
Jessie had been trouble from the jump, a lean-strung sparkplug with too much fire in her frown and too many miles on those skin-tight blue jeans. The old crowd she ran with left dents in the night—dented streetlamps, dented reputations, dented futures. But when she transferred to Good Girl High School, the town watched like it was waiting for a train wreck. They didn’t expect the plaid skirt. They didn’t expect the buzz cut. And they sure didn’t expect Jessie, the on-again, off-again menace of Sycamore Street, to rise up from the ashes of her past and snag valedictorian like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But the thing about old habits is they sit quiet only long enough to draw breath. By the time the ink dried on the letter from Harvard—fat envelope, no surprises—Jessie was already slipping back toward the shadows. And in those shadows waited Jonny M., a young hoodlum with a smile sharpened like a shiv and a talent for trouble that left even the cops muttering prayers. He wasn’t alone, either. His pug Boris padded along beside him, a squat little enforcer with a bark that carried farther than any bullet. Together they’d been terrorizing the town with their bad-boy routines, and Jessie, top of her class and golden-ticket bound, fell for Jonny like sin was gravity.
Miss Syntz noticed before anyone else. She always did. Gorgeous, yes—so much so even the PTA gossips held their breath when she walked by—but strict enough to freeze an earthquake mid-shake. She remembered Jessie’s first semester: the snarls, the confrontations, the wooden paddle hanging behind her desk like a promise. She’d had to spank the defiance out of the girl more than once, and Jessie had come out the other side something sharper, cleaner, stronger. Now Miss Syntz watched her brightest student drift back toward the abyss, and her knuckles grew white around the chalk she snapped in half.
The way Miss Syntz saw it, there was only one path left. She’d walked the straight and narrow so long it had grooves worn into her shoes, but if the only way to save Jessie’s future was to step into the gutter herself, then so be it. She’d trade her tidy bun for danger, her rulebook for recklessness, and show Jonny M. what a real bad girl looked like. And maybe—just maybe—steal him right out from under Jessie’s nose. In a town where futures were fragile and trouble had teeth, Miss Syntz was ready to bare her own.
When Hack formed yet another crush on a young woman who came into the Shakey’s where he works, he formulated an elaborate plan to win her affections by having some ne’er do wells associates of his pretend to kidnap her father so that he could rescue him, making her fall in love with with him. The scheme inevitably went wrong (as all of Hack’s schemes do) and the associates are serving a life sentence for the father’s murder while Hack once again was set free on a technicality. He wrote this book based on the experience and it’s not a bad read.
Hack was surprised to discover that his books sold well south of the border, so he wrote this one in Spanish using Google Translate with his musical crush Linda Ronstadt as the heroine. Sadly it sold poorly in Mexico (where it was considered incomprehensible) but it was an unexpected hit in Thailand.