Just By Surfing, You Could Win $! (but it's not bloody likely!)

The Daily Grind is the story of one man - Matt Linden - and his quest for love and adventure in a strange new world. Actually, it's just in Canada - but the struggle is the same. It's written in a light and brisk tone, and stars a cast of characters that's at once quirky and loveable. Linden fights his way through evil chestnuts, corrupt angels, and a large amount of monkeys along the way, and will face a whole slew of emotional - and physical - trials.

All at once, it's also the story of blind college fratboy Antonio Pagini, chosen by a chorus of angels to take the place of the missing Fate. He must find his way through a web of deception and corruption within the ranks of Heaven, and find out who is behind a plot to kill a totally meaningless individual called Matt Linden.

If you'd like to stare at a poster of blatant advertising regarding this novel, point your browsers to the artwork section of the site.

I haven't yet submitted the novel for publication; it's currently in its third - and final - draft. Afterwards, I will submit it... and when it's picked up by a publisher, be sure that this site will reflect it with a number of links whoring myself out to a dozen online bookstores for cash. No, not really.

But first... here are some segments from the novel!

            “Good morning, sunshine,” he said to me. My distorted face managed to frown even more.

            “Mornin’, chief,” I said in my usual perky tone, and poured myself a cup of coffee.

            “Where were you Friday night?” he asked, sipping his black coffee. Ew. I dumped sugar and cream into mine.

            “I was breaking up with my ex.”

Phew. That was close. Oh... crap, I said ex, didn’t I...

Max raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Ex?”

            “Er, ex-table. I was breaking it up. Because it was broken and needed to be broken into smaller pieces for disposal. And then I jumped on them.” Swoosh. Nice recovery; three point shot from center.

            “Why the hell were you breaking a table?” AND THE SHOT IS BLOCKED!

            “Because it wouldn’t fit in the garbage can.” It bounces off the defender’s hand and onto the rim...

            “I would have taken it...” ...but slides off and back onto the court.

            “Oh well. What’s done is done.” The ball is still in play.

            “I have the feeling you’re not being entirely honest with me.” But then explodes for no adequately explored reason and turns into a pack of small, irate gerbils with an innate hatred for gophers.

            “Oh, I am. Could you pass the ex-girlfriend?” The gerbils spot a gopher!

            “What?”
            “Could you pass the sugar?” He did. “So how’s the ended-a-relationship?”

            “Are you trying to tell me something?”

            “No. I just had a brunette and I’m sick and tired of all the lost-a-woman.”

            “Have you gone mad?” The gopher runs for its goddamned life, but runs into a wall and is devoured by the lead Hell Gerbil.
            “That is a distinct possibility that I will allow room for in my calculations.”

            “I’ll take that as a yes. Come with me.” He gripped my arm as only an ex-armgripper like Max could and dragged me to the elevator. I waved and smiled at Nicole, who was busily typing. She smiled back, and I was thrown into an elevator. The elevators in our workplace are almost, but not entirely, the exact opposite of friendly. The inside is painted with the most hostile shade of the colour green you can imagine and the floor is lined with spikes designed to trap and kill the rodents that we’ve been struggling with upstairs. Those advertising executives get caught by the packful in those spikes, but that didn’t change the concept that this elevator was rather unfriendly and wanted to cause the death of us all.

            “Where,” I asked as I stumbled to my feet, “are you taking me?”

            “To a bar.”

            “What?” I glanced at my watch. “It’s ten in the morning!”

            He looked at his digital watch. “So it is. I guess we’ll have to do something totally irresponsible while waiting for the bars to open.”
            “Why are you doing this?” I asked, totally screwed up in my mind. I was so confused, you wouldn’t even believe it, and if I had to describe how mind-bogglingly huge my confusion was at that time there wouldn’t be enough pages in War and Peace to adequately explain it.

            “Because. Judging by your insane ramblings you need a girlfriend.”

            “What?”

            “I said, I’m going to get you laid tonight whether you like it or not.”
            “So, you want to be an accessory to rape?”
            “Smart-ass,” he said as he threw me out of the elevator. I struggled to my feet and stared at him with the mommy-bring-me-home look in my eyes. “I don’t think so. You’re staying with me.”

            I whimpered like a drowning puppy and followed him. For a Monday morning, the streets were extraordinarily busy; cars flew this way and that, shots were fired, and in the end everyone was pretty miserable. We walked into the parking garage and Max led me to an old, broken-down, green Pontiac . I eyed it.

            “What happened to the Mustang?”

            “Something’s wrong with the engine. I don’t really know, Maria told me she’d fix it even though I told her not to. She’s still very pregnant, but she totally insisted I let her do it. Anyway. Here’s my old Pontiac .”

            “Uh, nice,” I lied through my teeth.

            “Hop in.” I did. He was a much less insane driver when he didn’t have the horsepower to fuel it, apparently, because we more or less swore by the speed limits posted along the road. And I always thought those were just suggestions. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were looking for love?” he asked as he made a sharp left turn onto a deserted county road.

More to come!

[ this page and all media therein is copyright © 2002 by matt mongrain. all rights reserved. reproduction prohibited without express, written permission of the author. ]