The website of the greatest pulp fiction writer who ever lived
When his cover artist Jonny M. Told Hack that one of his countless lovers insisted on using a confection called Jonny Pops in their lovemaking, Hack wrote this book in one of many attempts to undermine Jonny’s reputation. The scheme backfired as usual, and Jonny received hundreds of letters from across the country from women wanting to try the erotic act with him.
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.
Hack wrote this book after his cover artist Jonny M.’s pug Boris beat him senseless because of his abusive treatment towards a young boy who was shining his shoes at Union Station. He intended it to be a defense of his behavior but he came off so badly in the tome that Boris beat him up again.
Hack wrote this book during an alcoholic binge. It’s an incomprehensible mess of indecipherable ranting. But his publisher John Kane needed a new Hack Werker manuscript to fulfill a legal obligation so he had cover artist Jonny M. Work out this cover based on his recent birthday celebration and slapped this title on it. Miraculously, it was embraced by intelligentsia and started showing up on university English classes reading lists. When Hack accepted an honorary doctorate from Stanford, he admitted that he no memory of even writing the thing.
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.
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’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.
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.
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.