Parker S. James
whoisparkerjames.bsky.social
Parker S. James
@whoisparkerjames.bsky.social
23 followers 11 following 100 posts
Pseudonym writer of absurdist cosmic horror comedy. Think Everything Everywhere All at Once getting drunk with Jason Pargin and Christopher Moore.
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Life’s a joke. Trauma’s the punchline.

Somewhere inside the book are clues to who I really am. Follow them, connect the dots, win the grand prize—or just enjoy an unhinged cosmic horror-comedy about love, absurdity, and the end of everything.

www.amazon.com/dp/B0FWRSN8N2
Greening (noun): The quiet metamorphosis that occurs when a human soul begins to photosynthesize its own delusions. Common symptoms include talking to houseplants about existential dread, developing moss over the conscience, and feeling an urge to root oneself in the nearest patch of dirt.
Somewhere a lawyer is drafting a will that ends with, “and to my nephew, I leave the thigh”
I rank being licked to death by a clown made of snakes far higher on my list than being embarrassed.
The universe is collapsing.
God’s having an identity crisis.
And a broke retail worker is our last hope.
It’s hilarious, horrifying, and somehow beautiful.
FREE today: Pancakes and Poor Life Choices

#booksky #writingcommunity #kindleunlimited #booktok

www.amazon.com/dp/B0FWRSN8N2
Pancakes and Poor Life Choices
Amazon.com: Pancakes and Poor Life Choices eBook : James, Parker S. : Books
www.amazon.com
The soundtrack to professionally pretending I’m okay with everything in my inbox
It’s tradition, Chuck. When the solstice comes, every man must offer a piece of himself to the Cold so the sun will rise again. Mine just happens to fit nicely in the ice tray.
The winter banana is what I call my flesh slinky after letting it cool down in the freezer for an hour or so.
The widening gyre is what I call my asshole when it faces the challenge of passing the fiery remnants of a late night Taco Bell binge fest
The older we get the less we work toward wellness and the more we do preventative corpse upkeep
The gods of Halloween do not accept minivans. They crave pilgrimage through the suburban abyss, the crunch of leaves under trembling feet, the whispered bargains with masked strangers at dimly lit doors. “Trunk or treat” is how we tell them we’ve grown soft, and they will remember
Sometimes when the world is ending, a sex mime is your only hope #booksky #bookquotes #indiebook #bookpromo
Fourth down isn’t a play call, it’s a state of consciousness. Dallas has been perpetually on fourth down since the mid-’90s and none of us have the courage to punt.
Historians will call it the Meatquake. Proctologists were the first casualties, sucked screaming into a swirling anus of au jus and hubris. Somewhere deep beneath Ohio, the Meat Spiral still churns, whispering: we have the meats. It demands reverence, it demands sacrifice.