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    "John Smith"
    "John Smith"
    "John Smith"
    Ebook33 pages29 minutes

    "John Smith"

    By Frankie Lassut

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    About this ebook

    John Smith is a brilliant writer, there is no doubt about it. All the guy wants to be is a teacher, but he doesn’t want to waste his precious time with would-be writers/storytellers, i.e. people from writing clubs who only go to clubs because they’re so bad that that is the only way they can get anyone to read their work. John writes to Stephen King and James Herbert (late), offering to be their tutor as he thinks their work could do with some improvement in order for them to sell more books.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherFrankie Lassut
    Release dateOct 21, 2018
    ISBN9780463643648
    "John Smith"
    Author

    Frankie Lassut

    I am the one being shaved; the other one Nim, is is a looney bin now!I went to see a psychic years ago who ended up as my girlfriend; she didn’t see that one coming! But she was extremely honoured. However it ended badly i.e. it rained heavily as I buried her body and I got soaked. No! You don’t really want to hear about it, it’s depressing; I was joking about the burial. She told me that I was to uncover a talent I had ... Well, another psychic told me that as the first one was dead; I was lying when I said I was lying. Nothing happened for quite a while. Suddenly I realised I needed a ‘job’ quite badly as I was beginning to drink halves. No, not a boob ‘job’! I went for the cheap option i.e. the surgeon gave some socks to shove up my jumper when I go out. I got a ‘job’ (have you got boobs on your mind?) because someone told me that bus-driving was easy because you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel. She was about six, a wise woman ... that’s called an oxymoron. Fantastic! I thought get the job and in a couple of days I’d be driving all the nice passengers around and about seeing all the sights for a fraction of the cost of a tour bus; and we’d have a roof in case it rained. Easy! First of all though there was the training; and I entered hell.I was born in Cumbria in a little ex-iron ore mining town called Millom. It was only small, a one- horse town; the horse was called Peg. It had a pedigree name too, but I can’t remember it at the moment: Peggy Suss? However, I got fed up and left as I was the only man in a town full of women and they were all lesbys; I’ve always been lucky. I went to Blackpool and attended the photographic college. I then moved to Coventry and met the psychic who would tell me what was going to happen. I could say now that the rest is history. Well it is, but obviously not history as that’s all made up anyway. Then I got the job bus-driving, which as I said is easy ‘you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel’. The bus station management weren’t pleased that she had said that though, so she was tried and sent to Guantanamo Bay; they have a section for young kids who are bad to the bone.The job was so mad that I thought it would be a good idea to write out some posters and stick them all on the wall of the bus station. The other drivers enjoyed them, but the management tore them down, the badstars (that’s an anagram of astards +B). I carried on and ended up with a manuscript for a book, which, by the way is ‘brilliant’. The management didn’t like it, but bollocks to them.I couldn’t stop writing after that episode and I’ve been writing ever since, mostly cheques to people, such as the mortgage people and the gas board etc. I am so brilliant that I’ve lost all my friends because I wrote about them in my style which I believe is called Bizzaro. My inner being is a bit of a crazy horse, because whatever I write it has to be in that style, even the horror. It just goes that way. ‘Ordinary’ writing to me is like lemonade minus the bubbles ... I can’t bring myself to do it; but thank God I can still bring myself off. I need a selfie stick as I do that because the close focus on the phone won’t do it; how else am I going to post them on the Dark Web?Writing is like a drug. When I was writing my Millom book, the pictures that flashed into my head were so funny to me that I laughed myself into hernia-ville; my stomach tore. I got injured writing.You see, hernia-ville, a retirement home for people with stomach hernias; no comedians are booked to appear at that place.So, my writing is brilliant, so read the bloody stuff!I have actually suffered for my art. I won’t go to hospital to get it fixed because, well, I’ve written about that friggin place too.All that and now I’m an international bestselling author. I’m the only author in this world who has sold books on Mars (eat your heart out Tony Robbins), so I can say with certainty that Martians have fabulous senses of humour.What a profile!

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      Book preview

      "John Smith" - Frankie Lassut

      John Smith

      Copyright 2018 Frankie Lassut

      Published by Wonky Books at Smashwords

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Dear Messer’s King and Herbert

      I know you two are buddies, so I can’t be bothered writing two letters when I can get away with one. I’ll have it photocopied the next time I’m in the city centre and go to Rumans (I’ll go Saturday and get some shopping too).

      My Name is John Smith and I would like to be your writing tutor. That’s because I’ve read most of your works and honestly feel there is some room for improvement. I think I’m a better than good writer and actually came third in the monthly short story competition at my local writing club. I know third isn’t the best, but I think the other two bribed the judge; they know each other and had it all arranged. You see, now they will go out and have several drinks with the ten-pound prizemoney. It’s really unfair and I should beat the crap out of them, but when you are a ‘prizewinning’ writer like me you have to expect these things (also, there are two of them and one’s pretty big). So, would you like to take me on? If you would could you please send me some work and I will improve upon it and send it back to you (it will have to be second class because I don’t have much ready cash). Seeing as you are who you are, I will not charge you for this service (just tell your friends)

      Thanks

      John Smith

      STEPHEN KING

      Cujo improved

      COO JOE

      Joe is a St Bernard, who lived in Castle Rock, Maine. When he was growing up, Joe (Coo) loved to listen to music and could tell you what note was being played, because he had perfect pitch; and being a dog he didn’t say anything. Most humans don’t have this perfect-pitch quality and are actually tone deaf. Tone deaf people have a mental problem which

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