Category: Fiction


The Untold Story Of Sir Splendid (Chapter One, Part One)

Call me Sir Splendid. The Mostly Invincible Sir Splendid. He Who Splends. Friend to All, Regardless of Stature, Station or Splendidness. The Man That Santa Forgot.

Or don’t. Honestly, names aren’t everything.

My real one is David Robert Henne, for example.

Not a particularly impressive title, I’ll be the first to admit. Doesn’t elicit images of a thick-haired, musclebound Lothario. Typically generates the portrait of a balding man with irritable bowels who cannot eat baking chocolate after 6 p.m., despite his every effort.

“Sir Splendid” on the other hand. Sir Splendid is my superhero moniker. Was my superhero moniker — have to get used to saying that.

As of two months ago, I no longer hold the mantle of Sir Splendid. The super powers upon which I built my legacy are no longer in my possession. A series of atrocities, of which I am completely innocent, led to my losing the very source of those gifts. And now I’ve reverted to the eczema-riddled David Robert Henne again.

…You know what, I’d prefer it if you did call me Sir Splendid.

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Todd Doyle: Farm-To-Table Man of Mystery (Chapter 2 • The First Time It Shouldn’t Taste Like Blood)

Part One

Agent Todd Doyle was 14, the day of his first confirmed kill. The event itself was a complete catastrophe that set US military training exercises back 40 years.

It was supposed to be a routine simulation — no live rounds, within a controlled setting. But this was Todd Doyle, a living round unto himself.

“That’s some good sim-room combat there, Doyle,” General Ganje said, punching the intercom button from behind a two-way mirror. “Next time rip the hologram’s throat out after you incapacitate him. We didn’t pay extra for real-life throats on these hologram terrorists for nothing, you know.”

“Sorry General,” 14-year-old Todd Doyle answered from inside the simulation room, which was rebooting between exercises and now resembled an axis grid splashed against the walls, ceiling and floor.

“You’re wasting taxpayer money by not ripping out those throats,” the General reiterated.

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TD: Chapter 1 • Origins and Origies (Part 3)

Part Three

“Never saw anything like it,” the first responder said, his eyes still wide. “Nude orgy fighting.”

“It was like, like coming across a big flailing pretzel,” the second responder said, choking back tears, “…with penis.”

The two dispatched firemen sat on the rear bumper of their fire truck. Between sobs they sipped piping hot cocoa — blankets draped over their shoulders to combat orgy-observing-induced hypothermia.

In the meadow before them sat a smoldering seven-foot wide heap. Todd Doyle’s teepee was no more. Where just an hour prior stood a proud tribute to Mother Gaia, now lay a puddle of hemp and soy.

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TD: Chapter 1 • Origins and Origies (Part 2)

Part Two

The frigid November air cut through the teepee like a field-issue RaptoRazor.

Beneath its canvas walls, support poles and smokehole, the erected tarpaulin sheltered three sweat-soaked bodies at rest: Two comely Spanish exchange students from the local university, and one hardened student of life—Todd Doyle.

The night was serene, the lovers tender, though sleep did not come easy for Todd Doyle. He tossed and turned atop the sustainable forestry-oriented futon, shooing away pairs of boobies and buttcheeks in favor of a moment’s respite from the waking world.

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Todd Doyle: Farm-To-Table Man of Mystery (Chapter 1 • Origins and Origies)

Part One

Toddsworth Kingsley Doyle was 12, the day his father gave him the talk.

“Toddsworth, my dear boy, I imagine you’ve begun to notice certain curious changes in and about your physique,” Eustace Doyle said, pinching his smoking tobacco as he packed his pipe. “You’re at the glorious age of pubescence, when certain abilities will manifest themselves.”

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Hizdahr Zo Johnson, Cock Merchant To The Stars!

Penises, penises, PENISES! You want penises, we’ve got them here at Crazy Hizdahr’s Discount Cock Emporium. Thick penises, skinny penises, penises that look like regular penises but are actually dwarf penises! At Crazy Hizdahr’s Discount Cock Emporium, the customer is always left satisfied — because penis!

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Chapter 23: You Only Dine Out Twice

Day was breaking, and Todd Doyle with it.

Todd Doyle limped along a dirt trail, bleeding badly from a knife wound that ran the length of his torso. Light shone through the treetops in needle-thin spears of morning. Todd Doyle squinted, using Mother Gaia’s generous tree trunks to steady himself, and resisting the urge to turn back. No, he was miles beyond that option now.

Upon the hilltop stood Minnewaska State Preserve. An arbiter of faith for a stray soul — offering respite, serenity, and sanity alike.

Buffered before its entrance stood a park ranger’s kiosk. A small shack of forest green and brown. The colors of earth, life, and the camouflage Todd Doyle donned during his three tours of duty.

The colors of his undoing…

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Todd Doyle, Farm-To-Table Man Of Mystery, Needs YOUR Help!

A bit of context: “Todd Doyle, Farm-To-Table Man Of Mystery,” is a novel I’m legitimately writing. It’s inspired by classic tales of international espionage, erotic paperbacks, and my mountain friends Todd Martin and Liam Doyle.

After posting a chapter preview on the blog two weeks ago, I discovered that Todd Doyle had nearly broke the site. According to Google Analytics, the story garnered more than 60 unique page views, in a single day.

Of course, I can’t take the credit. Todd Doyle is a polarizing character. He gets results, and does so in a completely organic, 100% self-sustaining fashion. There’s no carbon footprint to speak of. No preservatives. Just raw, undeniable testosterone — with slightly elevated levels of THC.

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Todd Doyle, Farm-To-Table Man of Mystery

I’d like to shift gears with this latest post from I’m halfway through my first novel and want to share a chapter here for some feedback.

The story is called “Todd Doyle, Farm-To-Table Man of Mystery.” It’s about an organic farmer from upstate New York with a dark past. His name? Todd Doyle.

One day, a military general knocks on the door of Todd Doyle’s self-sustainable teepee with an ultimatum: Help bring down the evil druglord Baron Von Glutenstein, or be arrested for indecent exposure. 

This is an excerpt from the fifth chapter, in which our hero Todd Doyle has tracked Von Glutenstein to an exotic casino in the foothills of Lake Champlain.

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