Doesn’t everyone enjoy design book covers for their fictional book featuring none other than hard drinking human/goat hybrid biker Glen Fandango? Here’s the only excerpt I’ve actually written from ‘The Wild One’:
In the silence that blossomed you could have heard a pin drop. No one knew quite what to say. It wasn’t so much that they couldn’t comprehend the words more that they were agog at the person who was presenting them. Glen Fandango stood a shade over 7ft tall (including his horns) and was dressed in the leathers of a now defunct biker gang. He glanced round the puzzled faces and repeated his question ‘Can I get a beer please?’ The lady behind the bar was the first to gather her wits and she pivoted towards the beer tap with a glass in her hand without either taking her eyes off him or saying a word.
As he waited for the beer he casually surveyed the other people in the bar before adding ‘I’m also looking for a bit of information. Does anybody here know an Alice Gerhardt?’ With that pronouncement the temperature in the room dropped a further few degrees as it would seem he had struck a nerve. Perfect, that was just what he wanted. Glen smiled. Not that you’d know it though as his goat face was largely inscrutable to the average person. It would seem that he was in the right place after all.
Glen had not had an easy life but it’s not all been his fault. Ever since his ‘father’ rescued him from a government lab in North Korea and escaped across the border to the south with the infant in his arms people have been pointing and whispering. A small measure of fame followed his arrival in Seoul and within a few years they had been invited to the USA to start a new life.
As a young kid, whilst his father continued his work in genetics for the US Department of Defense, he was relentlessly teased until his tormentors learned the hard way that the horns on his head weren’t just for decoration. This, in turn, led to an early involvement with the police. It’s one of the few relationships he’s managed to successfully maintain over the years. By the time his father died he was an angry young man with a chip on his shoulder and the face of a goat. The next decade was an epic spiral of booze, bikes and bad decisions. It was only after hitting rock bottom that he managed to come to terms with himself and emerge, not entirely unscathed, on the other side. Nowadays he’s (more or less) working on the side of the angels and if you can find him and convince him your case is worthy he is, without doubt, the best manhunter on the planet…
And that’s what I’ve got. Along with my carefully designed biker patch for his now defunct biker gang and his likeness sprayed on the side of an abandoned van. You can make the rest up yourself…