Some people are just not intended to think for themselves. Oh, the mischief that ensues when they try.
Eryk Pruitt’s novel Dirtbags is both an experiment in terror and hilarity, made all the more so by the plausibility of the story. The characters seem more that believable – you’ve met these fuckers – at work, in a bar room, shit – you may be related to some of them.
Do yourself a favor. Drop everything else and read this book. You’ll only want to read everything else this guy’s written. I know I do.