PMMP has recently released the novel, Quizzleboon. It is described as a Southern redneck fairy tale, and is loaded with dark humor, weird crime and a monkey heist. You have got to grab a copy and read it for yourself!
Dirt was clean, they said, and soap was banned, as were tampons and aspirins. Their pants were dirty if they wore them, and Leon saw dirt down in their ear holes even. Were lotions banned? Yes, and cleaning products, razors and meat. Was it weird making love to smelly women with dirty feet? There was dirt in the sweat of their neck creases, and the hairy pits and legs to drip through afternoon. After Sparrow Leon lingered with a lady of a Pinocchio nose down there, Butterfly by name, and Lichen. Leon double-dogged Junebug, and the Windstorm. There was Mary, and a Soil, but Leon fell in love with Beacon. If not for that dirty monkey Leon might still be in the good life.
Damn girl put him back on the coke is why, what he swore off at Muskegon Correctional where he did two years for busting out a cop’s front teeth—two years! Leon may well have killed the pig had the eye stayed in his head like it was supposed to. Thing bounced across the lot to slide under somebody’s truck. Leon picked it out of the goo, but more goons arrived. Leon was polishing it with his shirt hem, getting ready to stick it in his face when the guns flopped out. He was thirty-six now, and very much in love.
So he chomped into Beacon’s boob, ripped off a mouthful and chewed it up good and swallowed it down—so delicious! In the El Camino he snaked her to Asheville for eight ball fun. They’d check into The Aardvark and party ’til Monday. In the bed there, Uncle L, as the dirt people called Leon, informed Beacon of the ping pong ping, or pang, which is more like it.
The pangs to attack Leon’s heart Mr. Quizzleboon knew not the likes of. The reward for info leading to Leon’s arrest was twenty grand. Did Leon tell Beacon that? Why yes, Mr. Quizzleboon saw it all, straight through Leon’s own eyeball, through tar and timber, there she is on the double bed pumping Leon silly while high on cocaine, the Grateful Dead crooning through boombox speakers. Boy could the girl go to it, her fine young tits swinging back and forth like sacks of sugar to beat somebody over the head with. Beacon sucked his jizzle up deep into her soul and fell down limp upon his muscular-ass torso. He held her tight with his tatted arms, fingers to vertebrae as if playing the flute, and told her of the robberies, Mr. Big Man, full of pride, trying to impress the ladies.
Leon trusted Beacon that spring, but come a night at the dirt farm, in the kitchen with Sparrow and Two-Stone, and this dude whose name was Castle, Leon said, “Let’s fuck dinner for the skrunk tonight.” Beacon said, “I think we ought to eat, Leon. All I had today was a cantaloupe and string beans.” That was the first hint. Nobody lipped off on Leon, the man with money, the Kahooey Bigtime Monster Bash Man. Hadn’t Leon forked a fortune out for these dumbass dirt scrounger motherfuckers? Hadn’t Leon paid off their mortgage? He bought them a new roof. He bought them a Massey Ferguson tractor, and mopeds, and enough wine to drown a hippopotamus in. If Leon said jump your ass into that lake, Dirt Monkey, you’d best hop to it lickety-split. Leon was not so goddamn foolish as to look the other way when Danger was at hand. The eyeball amiss from his head, what he’d told the Dirties he gave to Mr. Quizzleboon from the moon, watched out for him, was to warn him should Danger lurk in the tip of the toe in the tulips, in the crunch of leaf in the bushes and shit. Should Leon say I won’t listen, his bad brain only was to blame.
His bitch was up to some-ass thing or other, so while the Dirties worked another masterpiece—pesto this time, peeling leaves off heaps of basil branches—Leon coaxed her to the junk shed. Amidst the broke mowers and bike parts he talked it out of her, yanked her hair, shook her and slapped her a good one. Finally this country girl from Kickback, Alabama, with tears and much apology puked it up. Leon left her in the dirt with her dress yanked down to the waist, a rubber bike pedal shoved in her mouth.