BOOK TEASER – "Boobs Beach and the Barcelona Death March"

Hey readers!

If you didn’t already know, I’ve been busy. Over the past year, I’ve been writing a book that narrates my misadventures around the world last year, and now the rough draft is finished! This week it’s off to an editor, and then an artist for the cover design, and finally it will sent to the printing company (don’t worry, it will be available as an e-book as well).

In the coming weeks leading up to its release, I’ll be posting some excerpts. These will be copy/pasted usually from the middle of a chapter. This little snippet is from the chapter Boobs Beach and the Barcelona Death March, in which myself and company stumbled upon a nude beach for the first time in our lives. Our jovial view was quickly ruined by a very intoxicated Spanish vagrant. The latter part of the story (The Barcelona Death March) will have to wait to meet your eyes when the book is released! Enjoy 🙂



  …Put simply, we didn’t know how to handle ourselves. Can we stare? Is that socially acceptable? …what did I do to deserve this? …I’m not a good person…I don’t deserve to see this. I’ll pay for this enjoyment somehow later in life.

  Aaron and Corey wanted to go for a swim while I opted to sit with the gear and play some guitar. Because you never know, right? Although admittedly I was incredibly intimidated by these women.

  Aaron strapped on his goggles and the two headed down to the water. I tuned up the guitar and tried not to stare directly at the breasts.

  I had been playing for two, maybe three minutes when I was approached by one of the aforementioned disgusting drunk old men who prowl Spanish beaches.  He looked homeless and smelled like old wine and cheese; possibly with a hint of dog farts.

  Teetering and tottering as he pushed his (most likely stolen) bicycle through the sand, he smiled and flashed his six teeth and gums at me. He cheerfully started shouting a bunch of Spanish towards me as he leaned his bike against the cement platform I was sitting on and bounced around in the sand in front of me.  He wore no shirt. His skin looked like beef jerky. I believed he was gesturing towards my guitar.

“Uhhh no hablo español, dude,” I said, hoping he would leave.

“AHHH, ENGLAIS, EHHH? Where you from my friend?!”

“America… US…” …please fucking leave. You’re scaring people.

“Ahh muy bien, Amereeeca! I play your cheeetarooo!” he exclaimed, leaning backwards drunkenly as he pointed to my guitar.

“No man, I’m playing it right now, maybe here in a lit—“ He snatched the guitar out of my hands and started strumming it fiercely. That’s the most accurate word I can come up with for it.

  I became concerned. If he ran off with the guitar, what could I do? I couldn’t leave all of our gear unattended to chase him. I looked down at the water, some 100 yards away or so. There were Aaron and Corey swimming around with their goggles on (you can laugh as you picture the goggles).

The man started to “sing.”

“AHHHHH GEEBRATO SEGRATA PANE…” this man was screaming gibberish in my face as he raped my guitar with his greasy old hands. I noticed behind him that virtually every person on our section of the beach had turned around to stare.

“MANAFEEEEEETO!!! JANAS MEEEETO!!” You’re ruining this for me, you Spanish hobo.

I smiled awkwardly as if to convey to the native beach-goers—who continued to stare—that I was totally cool with this guy doing unspeakable things to my guitar and quite literally spitting broken Spanish in my face.

I looked towards the beach again. Finally Aaron had apparently noticed the drunken hairy dinosaur playing my guitar. For simplicity’s sake, I’ll refer to him from this point forward as HoboJesus. I gave Aaron a look: help… me.

He and Corey made their way back up to the cement platform.

“Ahhhh, HOLA AMIGOS!” HoboJesus shouted at them.

“Heyyy what’s up bro,” Corey answered back with a smile.

The man handed me my guitar back. It was covered in sweat.

“Hey guys…” HoboJesus said to us, “you like smoke tha grass, uhhh?”

I started to tell him we weren’t interested when Aaron cut me off: “Yea man, you got any?”

I looked at Aaron with contempt. You moron… This entire beach has been staring since the moment this asshole strummed my guitar.

HoboJesus pulled out a massive bag of pot and literally threw it at Aaron.

“You roll, mi friend, take what you want, uhhh!”

Aaron pulled out papers and began to roll a joint on the cement platform, directly in front of the whole goddamn beach.

“Aaron so help me God if you land us in a Spanish prison…”

Corey looked around somewhat worriedly as well, but I think he was on the same page as Aaron… 

HoboJesus grabbed my guitar again and started his antics. Son of a bitch.

Aaron lit up the joint. I looked around. HoboJesus stopped playing long enough to chug some sangria and take a puff then went back at it. Aaron asked if he could have some of the pot. Fucking Christ.  HoboJesus had not a care in the world. He told him to take as much as he wanted.

“We should uhhh, probably get going, guys…” I chimed in.

“Yea, ‘bout that time,” Aaron answered.

Another drunk homeless man walked up and smiled to HoboJesus. If you combined both of their teeth you might have enough to eat an apple.

“Hey bud, I need my guitar back… we’re leaving,” I pleaded. I was finding out there was no demanding of anything from HoboJesus. Only asking and hoping he complied.

“Ahhhh okeee okeee,” he said and handed me back the instrument. I grabbed it with as little skin contact as possible, much similar to picking up an old dirty diaper or something of the sort off the ground. I used one of my shirts and wiped the sweat off before sliding it into the case. Wash this shirt with extra bleach, I mentally noted.

We threw our packs on and headed back off the sand to the boardwalk. I was angry.

“That stupid motherfucker… Spanish cocksucker. He completely ruined that. I was having the single greatest moment of my life and he took that away from me. He took my titty day away from me like a fucking drunk asshole.”

“Yeaaa that guy was absolutely ridiculous,” Corey agreed.

“Let’s just go further down the beach and find another spot,” Aaron compromised. Corey and I agreed so we just kept walking.

…Thanks for reading this little teaser! I hope when the book comes out, you’ll give it a read! In the meantime, be sure to follow me on Facebook and keep up with the blog here. Cheers!


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