Shocker: Shocker, #1

By Armand Rosamilia and Frank Edler

SHOCKER is the horror humor story of a prisoner, a religious idol, monsters and mayhem.

Vito "The Shocker" Shocketti has been locked away in Rahway State Penitentiary for twenty years of his life sentence. In that time not one cellmate has endured being quartered with him for very long.

That all changes when a young kid, Manny "Dirty" Sanchez, gets put with The Shocker. A star struck Manny begs "The Shocker" to tell him his legendary story of crime and murder. Vito decides to unload on the kid, who becomes more and more engrossed in The Shocker's tales of living life on the edge in the seedy heavy metal club scene in 1980's New Jersey.

The Shocker, impressed that Dirty has not begged the guards to move him from the cell, drops a bombshell. All the murders The Shocker committed were directed at the behest of Baby Jesus. The Shockers tales devolve into the weird and insane. Could The Shocker be making it all up to make Manny think he is criminally insane or is the Baby Jesus real and has a higher plan for the both of them?

Seasoned writing veteran Armand Rosamillia teams up with hungry newcomer, Frank J Edler to tell this darkly funny story of reckless behavior, oddball monsters and the cherubic Baby Jesus. The two Jersey boys spin a thick flavor of heavy metal life in New Jersey that will make the most bad-ass of metalheads cringe with delight. This story should come with a pair of tight black leather pants and a can of Aqua Net.

Also features an interview with both authors by fellow deranged author Christian Jensen

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rymfire Books
• Release date: Feb 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9798201095376

Book preview

SHOCKER

Armand Rosamilia and Frank J. Edler

©2016 Rymfire Books

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the authors.

This book is dedicated to everyone who was rocking out on a hot, sweaty Saturday in July at a club somewhere in New Jersey circa 1986.

Chapter 1

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"You’re The Shocker?" the new piece of meat asked skeptically.

I nodded but didn’t say a word. I sat on my top bunk and stared at the blank wall across from me in the tiny cell. I’d done it for hours on end, every day, since I’d been incarcerated. What else was I going to do? Jerking off lost its charm when I knew the two guys directly across from me in the cell block could watch me do it. No thanks.

Seriously... you?

I turned to the guy and tried to look menacing, but I’m sure I just looked pathetic. I’d gone to hell in the twenty years I’d been in this shithole. My hair was receding, and my gut had gotten even bigger, with more layers of flab, than when I had arrived. I couldn’t remember the last time my eyes had glimpsed my cock and ball set.

Yeah. Me. You know damn well who they stuck you with. Most newbies get bunked with the lifers, so don’t act stupid. You might even be one of the jerkoffs who request being bunked with a celebrity. Is that it? You think I’ll tell you my tale so you can write a fucking book about me?

He looked away. Nah... I just...

You didn’t think anything and that’s probably why you’re in this hellhole to begin with. You made some bad mistakes and you pissed off the wrong person.

He looked back at me. Who did you piss off?

Baby Jesus, I said.

He grinned and started to laugh. I put up my hand and gave him the finger. This isn’t a fucking joke, kid. You have no idea the stories I could tell you. Anything you’ve done in life would pale in comparison to the Hell on Earth I’ve gone through. You ever killed a woman with your bare hands while she was spitting up crack all over your arms? I doubt it.

I want to know, he said. He leaned against the wall I’d been staring at. What else do we have to do until we die?

I squinted at him. You’re in for life, too?

He nodded, Vehicular homicide.

Who’d you kill?

He shrugged, "A family heading down to see where they filmed Jersey Shore. I fell asleep at the wheel and took out their car."

I’m going to guess it wasn’t just an accident, I said.

Oh, it was. Except for the drugs and alcohol in my system that put me to sleep a few seconds before I lost control of the eighteen wheeler, I wasn’t really to blame.

What’s your name? I asked.

Manny Sanchez.

I didn’t know if I trusted him just yet. The cops and lawyers had tried to pair me with every prison snitch and informant they could over the last twenty years, trying to get me to tell them ‘the truth’ of what happened. But I always told the truth. They just didn’t want to believe that Baby Jesus talked directly to me and not them.

I was helping New Jersey rid itself of all the criminals and trash, but my cleaning up of the Garden State only landed me in this tiny room with yet another wannabe who thought I’d tell him everything.

"Ever read The Rime of the Ancient Mariner?" I asked him.

He shook his head and looked ashamed for some reason, like I was lording over him that I was well-read. Yeah, me neither. But I love the Iron Maiden song. You like music?

Never had time for tunes.

That’s a shame. A man can’t live on beer and pussy alone. He needs a hobby. Mine was always music. I spent many, many nights in the clubs, in and around the Tri-State area, especially Jersey dumps. It’s where I first met Baby Jesus and started on my righteous path.

When are you up for parole? he asked.

I shrugged, Never. I know guys who scratch the days off on their walls and can’t wait to get out. But I don’t. You know why?

He shook his head.

Me, neither, I said truthfully. Maybe I was just lazy or maybe I was resigned to the fact I’d spend the rest of my shitty life behind bars. I’d never done an interview for Dateline or the news, and I wasn’t as big and famous as some of the others they called serial killers.

Tell me about Baby Jesus, he said.

I’d rather keep it all to myself. Die with my boots on, I said.

He looked confused. He wasn’t an Iron Maiden fan and that was a shame. I didn’t know what we’d talk about 23 hours a day. I was surprised they’d given me another cellmate after the last one hung himself.

I’d been without a bunkmate for nearly a year, and suddenly... this guy shows up. I was starting to smell a rat.

Tell me all about yourself first, I said.

Not much to tell. I started on my life of crime when I was fifteen...

He might have droned on and on for ninety minutes before I stopped him. What did I care about any of this? I wasn’t much of a people person. Never have been. I’m a selfish guy and it got me where I am. Yeah, I know irony when I hear it, too.

Enough. Maybe after dinner I’ll tell you one of my stories. But just one, and if you interrupt or ask even a single question I’ll stop. Understood?

He nodded and gave me a thin smile.

I hopped off my bunk and got right in his face, eye to eye. I hadn’t brushed my teeth in years and I could see by the look on his face he wanted to gag. Good.

However, what I am going to tell you is something very personal. Something only a few people in this world know; my lawyer, the dead and Baby Jesus. Do you understand what I’m saying?

I do. You’re honoring me by letting me hear your side of things.

I waved dismissively and climbed back up to the top bunk. Nah. I don’t give two shits about you. I’m more interested in hearing if I can still tell the story. And how crazy it sounds out loud. The only time I said it all was in the lawyer’s office, and he immediately tried to switch my defense to insanity. But I’m not insane. I’m the sanest motherfucker I know.

I look forward to hearing your story, he said.

I didn’t bother asking what his name was and I was glad he didn’t tell me or want to shake my hand. When you’re locked away for most of your life and only see the light of day for an hour, you tend to not have much contact with others. I wasn’t on death row but I might as well have been. I was on slow death row.

When the food comes, I get your dessert and drink for the story, I said. I might as well get something out of it, right?

He reluctantly nodded. But it was way too quick. I thought there