The Redensive Epiphanies of Pouty Mcnavel

By David Gullen

McNavel:
Victim or perpetrator, woman and man, she's on a journey, he's on a quest.
Doing what we all do - trying to understand.
It's just beyond his grasp, she knows it's around the next corner.

The Redensive Epiphanies of Pouty McNavel
Journeys, endings, and perhaps at last, understanding.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Mar 21, 2016
• ISBN: 9781326599232

Book preview

The Redensive Epiphanies of Pouty Mcnavel

The Redensive Epiphanies of Pouty McNavel

Epiphanies - 1

The Redensive Epiphanies of Pouty McNavel

Edited by David Gullen

Copyright

First edition, published in the UK March 2016

Compilation copyright © 2016 David Gullen

Front cover Art copyright @ 2015 Sarah Ellender

Rear cover photograph copyright © 2015 Sumit Dam

Interior photographs copyright © 2015 Gordon Fraser

Interior ‘Cliff Lunt’ line Art copyright © 2015 Troy McClure

All stories original to this publication

All rights reserved

Transmission, reproduction, transcription, distribution, storage or replication of this publication or any part thereof in any language or dialect, ancient, modern, or yet to be, in any form of notation, by physical, electric, electronic, electro-mechanical, or any other means, onto any media currently in common use or any media not yet in common or actual use, including but not limited to neuro-physical engram encoding, psychic, holographic, psycho-mechanical or encoded DNA and/or RNA, or metaphysical methods such as projecting into a common pool of universal consciousness thus rendering it available for involuntary collection by morphic resonance, or tachyon-burst transmission from some unspecified point in the future back to a time prior to the creation of this document, or any media in former use and now considered archaic or obsolete including but not limited to pictographs, hieroglyphs, morse-code, baked clay tablets, runes, ogham lines, chalk and slate, quipu, potato-cut, epic sagas in the written or verbal traditions, or any combination of the above or any other form, without prior written permission of the publisher and author(s) is expressly forbidden. This does not mean you cannot read it out down the phone, scream noughts and ones out the window, or memorise it like some bloody Monty-Python sketch and chant it ad-infinitum whenever you get together with your mates and have a few drinks – with these acts we applaud you. If you want to share just be redensive about it. This clause applies recursively to itself and all subsidiary recursions to infinity and beyond.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-326-59923-2

Cover Design by Clare Kelly

Interior design by David Gullen

Copy-editing by Gaie Sebold

Interior Fonts: Garamond, Book Antiqua, Century Gothic, Black Chancery

Palooza Publications

Introduction

In 1980, Olaf wrote a word.  This year the rest of us wrote a few more.  Also, some of us took pictures, and made works of art.

The fact that you are now holding the anthology that D.G. kindly pulled together from it all means that the rest is up to you.

The Redensive Epiphany of Pouty McNavel

-[ 1 ]-

by Sarah Ellender

Petey Navelle blew into the little seaside town on the wings of a storm, driving a shiny black car and wearing a battered leather jacket. The wind shoved at him as he strode up the promenade under a lowering sky. Waves crashed against the concrete, and salt spray blew in his face, glistening in the gold stormlight.

He made his way to a steamed-up cafe he remembered from the last time, aware of heads turning as he pushed through the door. Petey took a seat in an olive vinyl booth and slung one arm along the back of the seat. Some new photos had gone up on the walls since he was last here. Seascapes, predictably, but done by somebody with a good eye who actually knew how to use a camera and pick their moment.

A waitress wandered over with a pad and pen. Petey lazily swept the gaze of his glorious green eyes down her body and back up again. She was a bit old for him, definitely over twenty three, and he wasn’t exactly a chubby-chaser. Still, no harm in making her think she was in with a chance. He sucked in his cheeks a little and gave her his best smoulder. She was speechless in the face of –

What’ll it be? the waitress asked.

Petey raised an eyebrow at her. I’m in the mood for something hot. Any ideas?

It’s all on the board, the usual. She looked at his face and her eyes widened. I’ll come back when you’ve decided.

I don’t want you to go. He made a show of staring at the name tag on her left tit. Morag. He rolled her name around his mouth. Give me the burger and chips.

Do you want beans with that?

Ok, she was helpless in the face of his dazzling good looks, offering him freebies with –

Beans are extra. Yes or no? Morag buried her obvious attraction to him under an increasingly brusque manner.

Coffee, he said. Make it strong and as black as my soul. He winked.

Wouldn’t kill you to say please, would it? Morag muttered as she turned and stalked off to hide her blushes and her frustrated desire. A long red plait swung behind her, reaching down to her ample arse.

While Petey waited for his food to arrive, he studied the scene outside. That glorious light wouldn’t last long, and it would be perfect with the pounding waves, and the whisking spray. He could see it now, the female on all fours, arse to the sea, the spray spurting up between her bum cheeks, smiling at him over her shoulder. Yeah, he could call it Pounded. But the rules of the game, the rules of the work, meant he needed a local girl to put in the shot. The story of how he fucked her and his meditations on the experience went with it, accompanied by a black and white self-portrait.

He had to be quick before the rain came in. He looked around, hoping to find something young and juicy eying him back. Instead he got a