More Homicidal Humor

The Knife and Gun Club

Welcome to the world of urban police legend and lore.

More Homicidal Humor offers a glimpse of life through the eyes of a homicide detective, whose ability to see the funnier side of tragedy has helped keep him sane.

These fictional short stories, inspired by real cops and real cases, are set in areas along the Texas Gulf Coast and include historical facts and interesting tidbits about the city of Houston and its police department. All individuals, as well as locations alluded to, are fictitious. You might say the names have been changed to protect the imbeciles.

Note: This book contains adult language.

From the Author:

"As a rookie cop I learned that idiots were put on this earth for our entertainment. I was taught not to take personally those things that street animals said or did. You must actively seek out humor, because if you internalize what you see, it will eat you alive. In this book I have attempted to expose both the humor and the reality I observed as the unwashed wallowed in the mud, the blood, and the beer."

What fans are saying about More Homicidal Humor:

"Being a trained investigator, I've determined the author of this book is the real deal. His stories, while generally humorous, reveal a side of the criminal element that the media rarely thinks you need to see. It's a reminder of why you should keep a sense of humor, and also own a gun. Jesse Jackson probably won't buy a copy of this book, but you ought to." --Sheriff Jim Wilson, Handgun Editor, Shooting Times

"It's like having an old Irish cop tell you 'Now, Lad, let me tell you what really happened out there.'" --Sergeant Brent Boren, Houston P.D. (ret)

"Welcome to the real world. Pure fiction based on nothing but the facts. Things Mom never told you about." --Sergeant R. L. Pagel, Houston P.D. Westside Command

From More Homicidal Humor:

Poor Grandma

This scene took place in a cemetery. It was a clear, hot and dry-blast furnace kind of central Texas mid-summer day. It was almost noontime. The flag-draped coffin was still above ground and the preacher was coming to the end of his graveside service. He was going through the Dust to dust, ashes to ashes routine that everybody and their dog knows was wrapping up the show. The dead man was a decorated military veteran. The immediate family sat upon folding chairs and they had been seated under a canvas awning set up for shade. The dead man’s aged sister sat on the front row at the far end. Beside her sat a rather angelic looking little girl about seven to eight years old. The child was holding a purse in her lap and wearing ruffled white socks and black Mary Jane shoes.

At the end of the ceremony a group of men from the local VFW chapter moved forward and gave the 21-gun salute. At this point the old woman became overcome by either the heat, emotion, grief or a combination of all three. She fainted dead away and passed out—slumping onto the ground. For a moment nobody moved and there was complete silence. Then the angelic-looking little girl sitting next to her blurted out, “God Damn—they done shot Grandma!”

Uncle Bob sure as hell would have approved and could not have orchestrated it any better himself.