American Rights, with a Bullet
I’m exhausted. I’m exhausted from living at the intersection of Rage and Sadness and not being able to do anything about it.
Excerpt: My Kind of Corporal Punishment
The following is an excerpt from the book "Strippers, Guns, and The Holocaust Museum: OR: How I Survived My Time as a Chicago Public School Music Teacher"
Andy disassembled his weapon with lighting speed. He packed it away in the black backpack made specifically for a weapon of this sort. He bolted to the roof access door as fast as his little, chubby legs would carry him. He made his way through the condo/office building stairwell without being noticed just as he had done on his way up. Andy was good at his job. And for a nine-month-old baby, he was really good at it.