COMING IN 2026! (Agent? Publisher? Contact me about this book!)
Timothy Splashinski is a janitor who believes the government is enhancing otters. He has 847 pages of documentation, a diving mask from Walmart, and the unshakeable conviction of a man who has been right about everything his entire life and wrong about how to make anyone believe him. When he breaks into the Happy Waves Aquarium at 2 AM to rescue two river otters named Olive and Otis, he sets off a chain of events that will expose a fifty-year conspiracy, destroy seventeen hundred jobs, and force a federal judge to rule on whether consciousness can be classified.
He’s not alone. There’s Brandy Mannschaft, an efficiency consultant whose brain calculates seventeen ways any situation can go catastrophically wrong (she’s usually right about all of them). There’s Trout Bowman, a former FBI consultant whose synesthesia lets him taste danger—and right now, everything tastes like pennies. There’s Marcus Rodriguez, a sixty-two-year-old security guard who has to choose between his wife’s cancer treatment and telling the truth. And there are the otters themselves, who have been arranging pebbles in patterns that spell out words in a language no one taught them.
What follows is a satire about conspiracy theories that turn out to be true, institutions that would rather let people die than admit wrongdoing, and the impossible math of being right when the cost of proof is everything you have. It’s the funniest book you’ll ever read about government-enhanced otters, dead children, and the specific taste of copper that means someone is about to destroy your life. Fans of Christopher Moore, Douglas Adams, and anyone who’s ever suspected the bureaucracy was hiding something will find exactly what they’re looking for—and immediately wish they hadn’t.
(Agent? Publisher? Contact me about this book!)
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His first manuscript was composed entirely of punctuation marks and confused sketches. He's since published "Not Bukowski" (poems that don't rhyme) and "Slop and Swell from a Festering Mind" (essays so concerning that bookstores check on his wellbeing). He once spent three hours photographing a rare bird that turned out to be a plastic bag, and he's the only person banned from church bake sales for "weaponized brownies." Inheriting absurdism from Vonnegut and Adams, sprawling narratives from Irving, and weaponized failure from Moore, he writes about conflicted everymen struggling through supernatural chaos.
He has two new, offbeat novels waiting foran agent or a publisher: "Truth Tastes Like Pennies" and "Elliot Nessie."
He remains unconvinced that birds aren't surveillance drones.
More biographic lies...err...info.
- Packing for Marrakech, Distracted by Fried Chicken Fashion - April 20, 2026
- I Am Not a Carwash Guy Either - April 17, 2026
- Scientists Confirm Sperm Whales Have Language. Gary is pleased. - April 16, 2026