Download The Pistol Poets AudioBook Free
The Edgar-nominated author of Gun Monkeys is back with a thrill-a-minute suspense book that mixes offense and academia - with hilarious results. Here Victor Gischler pulls us into a outdoors and wicked world, where tenured professors are active burying systems, cash-up-front P.I.'s hunt for absent coeds and one anxious street-tough has to decide which he'd alternatively be: a live poet or a dead lawbreaker. An unlucky grad scholar just got himself wiped out in a robbery gone bad. As lowly drug lieutenant Harold Jenks races with the killer from the alley, a light moves off in his head: He'll take the dead kid's id. Now Jenks, who once lorded it over seven rectangular blocks in East St. Louis, is headed due west. With a .32 in his pocket, a 9mm Glock taped across his rear, and a rap sheet practically so long as Finnegans Wake, he's cruising the halls of academia as Eastern Oklahoma U's latest grad scholar, looking to use it and hoping he can stay one couplet before his violent past. While this new bad youngster on campus makes mincemeat of his metaphors, across campus browsing professor Jay Morgan has a more pressing problem: What to do about the dead coed in his foundation. The professor's no killer, but try informing that to private vision Deke Stubbs. While using professor on the lam and Stubbs hot on his trail, more trouble blows into town. Now, as St. Louis drug boss Red Zach and his minions converge on Fumbee, Oklahoma, searching for a consignment of absent cocaine, the bullets start traveling faster than the zingers at a faculty hate fest. For Morgan and Jenks, now anxious fugitives from poetic justice, survival means learning new skills - and learning fast. Because if indeed they find out they're bottom-of-the-class, that means they're already dead. Displaying the sleaziest, sorriest, and most captivating group of criminal lowlifes, sexed-up academics, poets, and rappers ever to collide in one crime book, The Pistol Poets speeds deliriously to its electrifying payoff.
