In case you’ve never read my book, Novocaine, here’s a little sample from Chapter One:

 

“Doug, are you still there? Doug, please answer me…”

            Silence.  No answer from Doug.  Personally, I was waiting for the clichéd heavy breathing, followed by the sudden emotional breakdown: intense sobbing, sniffling, etc.  And Doug did not disappoint.  A  few seconds after the silence, he came back onto the line, crying and doing his best to snort what I can only imagine must be a little river of mucus running from his nose.  “I’m just so tired of it all, man,” he said.  “I just don’t know what to do.”

            “It’s okay Doug,” the radio therapist said.  “We all have moments where we don’t know what to do.  It’s perfectly normal…”

            It was late, and their conversation was getting boring.  Who am I kidding? It wasn’t getting boring—it had been boring from the very beginning.  I only tuned in because every now and then, there was a caller with a real problem.  I’m talking, lost-their-whole-family-in-a-fire type of shit.  People like that need help.  I only listen, though.  I never call in.  My problems weren’t big enough for a talk radio audience.  Dr. Kenny Lazaro was on the air between one and three in the morning.  He offers comfort and advice for the suicidal and broken-hearted.  He had been on the line with a caller named Doug for about twenty minutes.  Doug didn’t have any family or friends who cared about him.  He recently lost his job (a barista at Starbucks) and his girlfriend was trying to break up with him.  He claimed he wanted to kill himself, which is bullshit, because if he really wanted to die, he’d be dead.  So, I guess what Doug really needed was cuddling.  Someone to hold his hand and massage his feelings, and tell him everything was going to be okay.  Someone to take his world filled with darkness, and fill it with sunshine and unicorns and rainbows.   What Doug really needs, is for someone to kick him in his balls (if he even has any) and tell him to man up.  Stop being such a pussy, and realize that bad shit happens to everyone.  It’s called life. 

            I turned my radio off, and rolled over in my bed.  I figured it was time for me to get some sleep. After all, we teenagers need plenty of sleep in order to function in school.  I’d hate to fall asleep during math class…that would be a terrible shame. 

 

END OF SAMPLE