I’ve decided my next novel will be called “Fifty Shades of Carlos Danger.” Danger will be a sort of good-guy Carlos the Jackal, retired from work as a CIA assassin and now a US Congressman. The opening sentence, inspired by actual historical documents:
From the parapet Carlos Danger surveys the teeming crowd below, searching for a mark, any mark, even as his left hand wanders into his pocket, clutches his BlackBerry, and thrills at the vibration of some new text or tweet or IM from one of these Capitol Hill hotties he texted or tweeted or IMed just hours ago when, in his snug and snowy briefs (never boxers), his thumb nestled in the almost clitoral roundness of the home key–O Happy Trigger of Visual Delectation!–he snapped yet another shot, yet another lustrous sacrament fired off wantonly to this world of pic-wanting women, never imagining, until now, as the pomegranate-lipped CNN reporter, notebook aloft, gazes doeishly into his burning browns, that each recipient of one of his manly missives would fail to do him a solid and hard-delete that text or tweet or IM and thus secure his future with Huma, now posed against the bar in that posture of wifely submission a man of Danger’s unique abilities and endowments comes, in time, to expect.
Best second sentence wins a free autographed copy of the Kindle second edition.
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