Lessons In Debauchery: The Topher Weyland Story is an adventure comedy novel about an aspiring TV personality who gets recruited by the CIA to be a distraction, but things quickly get out of hand when he forces himself into their mission and is thrust into saving the world.
I’ve included a little blurb about the events leading up to this chapter so you won’t be super confused, and you can read some of my thoughts on it at the bottom of the post.
Topher has literally risked his life to get back to the studio to film an important episode of his show when his producer, Frank, summons him to his office looking furious.
“I knew you were a scumbag, but this is low!” he yelled.
Frank’s face was as red and swollen as his wife’s vagina after our lovemaking. That was my opener when I walked into the room, hoping to diffuse the situation. It didn’t work, but at least I had a funny anecdote to use when I told people about it later.
“You had sex? I thought you just kissed!”
I tried lie #1. “It’s not what you think. She must have had sex with a guy who looked like me. You know how small her brain can be sometimes.”
Lie #1 backfired, which it often does. Luckily I don’t always start off with my strongest lies.
Don’t waste your good lies early. You want to have a couple of great options to fall back on.
“Shit,” I said without missing a beat, “I meant, whoever told you this is obviously a big liar. I say we buckle down and find out who this person is, what they want, and why they’re trying to frame me-”
“I saw you! I have video of you two kissing!” he shouted, pointing at his office security camera.
“Can I have a copy?”
He whizzed a stapler at me, but my lightning reflexes kicked in and my hand blocked it, which broke my pinky instantly.
“Frank, just calm down. You have to understand. I didn’t know she was your wife. I thought she was your daughter.”
He whizzed his other stapler at me, but I was too busy wondering why he had two staplers to block it in time.
He hissed at me, “You’re fired. We’re having you replaced with Glen River Howard.”
Glen River Howard was a two-bit Youtube host at best, and the closest thing I had to a rival.
“Don’t be a stupid asshole, Frank. Glen River Howard doesn’t have half my talent, and I’ve seen him make eyes at your wife. You don’t want two guys screwing your wife, do you?”
He feverishly searched for something to throw at me, but there was only paper. “You may be hot shit right now, but I’m going to make sure everyone knows what you really are: a selfish, sociopathic prick.”
I needed to get him back on my side. “I hate to say this, but you’re sounding like a really big, dumb asshole right now.”
Judging by his heaving chest, it didn’t work. Luckily instead of finding another stapler to throw at me, he quickly composed himself and sat down.
“Get out.” His eyes darted down to his desk. He couldn’t even make eye contact with me. It was a good thing since I was checking my phone anyway.
Things were looking grim. Frank was completely ruining my big break. There had to be something I could do.
The chemicals in my brain started to churn, which meant I was getting a great idea.
“Who else knows, Frank?” I asked.
“I’m making the announcement after you leave,” he said, the wind out of his sails.
I stood there, weighing my options: Leave a shamed man, and work my way back up the entertainment ladder. Or…
He pretended to shuffle and sign some papers. “You’re still here? What part of leave didn’t you understand?”
I slowly walked to the door and locked it.
“What are you doing?-”
My wingtip smashed into his face with one of my patented front kicks, which I was hoping would knock him out instantly, but it didn’t so I had to keep kicking.
After about 46 kicks I stopped and he was out cold. With my shoes bloody and weathered, I had no choice but to take Frank’s. I know what this sounds like: I beat a man to near death after sleeping with his wife, and then stole his shoes. I guess while that is literally what happened, it makes me sound less heroic. I stuffed him in his closet and tied him up, but I made sure to leave a note:
I told myself that after I filmed this last episode of “Do You Have Your Keys?” and got a new dynamite hosting gig, I’d buy new teeth for Frank. After all, I didn’t want to hurt him. I was just doing what I had to do. It’s not like I was a monster.
I rifled through his desk for other things that I could steal when there was a knock on the door, and I saw the silhouettes of two suited men through the opaque glass.
Some of my thoughts:
A lot of this chapter is still pretty messy, focusing more on the comedy than brilliant prose. That’s something I want to work on as it develops. First and foremost with this book are the laughs though, and I think this chapter gives a good indication of Topher’s unapologetic nature.
So far I’m about 34,000 words in with an aim of about 40-45k words total. The chapters are meant to be small, around the length of the chapter above to make it a nice, tight read.
I can’t wait to get done with the full first draft and appreciate any feedback or if you are aching to read some more, even if its very rough still.
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