Background: ... trying to think of something witty, failing.

60 positive reviews on Amazon.com so far ... My novel. Not me. Though I do tip well.

The Friday Night Club, a novel
Davis Robertson is in mid panic attack. His fiancée is walking down the aisle, the love of his life sits watching, he's sure an attack by vengeful strippers is imminent, and there's a little matter of a gun wielding, RV stealing tow-truck driver out to kill him. Davis' struggle kicks off four days before the wedding when a reunion of college friends causes dormant memories of his reckless youth (the Heaven/Hell party involving a paint-ball splattering roommate, a bevy of strippers, and the mysterious Fat Spider-man; his father's death; and the road trip involving acid trips, a Tylenol on wheels, Scientologist kidnappers, and the homicidal tow-truck driver) to collide with the reality of comfort and possible death-by-boredom. So, what to do? Marry his fiancée, resigning himself to an ordinary existence? Escape to Brazil with the love of his life to enjoy passion and uncertainty? Or run from both and return to his hedonistic lifestyle, filled with flesh, drink, party, and few cares? Caution: Contains Adult Language, Mature Situations, Childish Emotions and General Stupidity