Tag Archives: hotel

New Novel Coming Soon: THE NIGHTLY DISEASE

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I’m stoked to announce DarkFuse will be publishing my new novel, titled The Nightly Disease (previously No Sleep ‘Til Dying).  This is the “hotel novel” I never seem to shut up about, based loosely on my own experiences as a hotel night auditor.

Check out this fucking cover painted by the lovely Zach McCain:

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Sleep is just a myth created by mattress salesmen.

Isaac, a night auditor of a hotel somewhere in the surreal void of Texas, is sick and tired of his guests. When he clocks in at night, he’s hoping for a nice, quiet eight hours of Netflix-bingeing and occasional masturbation. What he doesn’t want to do is fetch anybody extra towels or dive face-first into somebody’s clogged toilet. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to get involved in some trippy owl conspiracy or dispose of any dead bodies. But hey…that’s life in the hotel business.

Welcome to The Nightly Disease. Please enjoy your stay.

The Nightly Disease will be first be released as an online serial for the paid subscribes of DarkFuse Magazine throughout the month of October. Every night next month, a new installment will be posted at 11PM EST, which is what time I would be clocking in at my hotel if I lived somewhere with an Eastern Standard Timezone. But alas! I am Central, so each installment will actually be posted an hour before my shift begins. Which makes sense, because the hour before my shift is often the cruelest.

You can order an annual subscription of the magazine HERE, and if you enter the code CheckMeIn you’ll even receive a 50% discount. Note: this offer expires on September 29th at 11:59PM EST.

The Nightly Disease will also be published  as a limited edition (52 copies) signed hardcover early next year. Pre-orders for this hardcover will be made available sometime in October, so keep an eye out. Subscribe to my newsletter if you want me to email you the moment you can pre-order it (subscribe in the sidebar to your right).

I’ve also received many queries about paperback and digital editions. The answer is yes, those will be made available sometime in 2017 as well, but right now the publisher would like to focus on selling the 52 limited hardcovers first. So if you can’t afford the limited edition signed hardcover when it’s available, hey, it’s okay, there will be cheaper methods of purchasing it sometime down the road.

Until there is more news to report, I recommend liking my Confessions of a Night Auditor page on Facebook, which I regularly update during my night shifts.

New Hotel Horror Story: “Darling”

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My short story “Darling” is now available in Gothic Blue Book V: The Cursed Edition. It is about a night auditor who takes a sudden liking to one of his new guests. It’s a good mix of Gothic and body horror.

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Also included in the anthology are the following wonderful people:

Thanks to Christian A. Larsen for compiling all those author links on his own blog post, which I shamelessly stole.

Buy the paperback HERE or purchase the kindle HERE.

I am not Mr. Doug

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It’s 2:30 A.M., Christmas morning. I’m at the hotel, watching a movie. I hear someone walking around in the lobby, so I pause my laptop and go investigate.

There’s a man standing in the middle of the lobby, staring at the ceiling. He’s a big man, at least 250 pounds, but most likely much more. He’s wearing a black T-shirt and black underwear and nothing else. His hair goes down to the middle of his back and his beard sags to his massive gut.

I clear my throat and ask if I can help him with anything. He jumps, startled at my sudden presence, then mumbles something I can’t hear. I ask him to repeat what he said, and he stumbles toward me, saying, “Are you Mr. Doug?”

“Am I Mr. Doug?”

He nods. “Yes, are you Mr. Doug? You know, the Mr. Doug?”

“No. I…I am not Mr. Doug.”

“Oh, okay.” He pauses for a moment, then raises his hand and salutes me. “Thank you for your service, Mr. Doug.”

I return the salute and say, “You’re welcome, sir.”

He smiles and gets on the elevator.

Merry Christmas.

It was a Good Day for Swimming

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I’m only a half hour into my last shift of the week at the hotel and I have already witnessed two marvelous things.

Behold…

***

Two little kids (maybe 5-6?) talking by the pool as their parents gather supplies:

Boy: “Well, that was a really good day of swimming, wasn’t it Alexis?”

Girl: “I guess.”

Boy: “I really liked the hot tub because it was hot. But I also liked the swimming pool because it looks like a bean. What a really good day of swimming!”

Girl: “Jeffrey, I’m tired, leave me alone. I need to rest.”

***

Then, when I return to the front desk there’s a group of drunks in the lobby slowly making their way to the elevator. One man is extremely pissed, and he starts shouting, “No, goddammit, listen, in Mexican culture…”

Another man: “Goddamn, I’m sick of your Mexican culture shit. Shut up!”

Drunk #1: “No, you shut up and listen for once. In Mexican culture–in real, honest to God Mexican culture, the woman in the marriage does not get to talk back to the husband.”

Drunk #2: “Jesus Christ.”

Drunk #1: “Listen, in true Mexican culture, the man is allowed to smack his bitch if she gives him lip. It’s true.”

Drunk #2: “You need to go to bed, man.”

Drunk #1: “Fuck you–”

Drunk #1 walks straight into the wall, face-first. Embarrassed, he storms toward the elevator.

Drunk #2: “In Mexican culture, are you supposed to walk into walls too?”

 

How do you get to Wendy’s?

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Last night, at around 1:30 A.M., this man approached me at the front desk. He was dressed only in underwear and a tank top, and completely drenched in beer. It was dripping down his face, soaking his hair, everything. Waving a half empty can of Cools at me, he goes, “Where’s the Wendy’s?”

I told him where it was, but reminded him of the time, and that it would not be open right now.

So, he responds, “Okay, yeah, okay, but where is the Wendy’s?”

I tell him again.

Then he says, “Right, right. How do I get to the Wendy’s?”

I tell him where it is.

“I just want some breakfast,” he says. “I want some goddamn breakfast.”

I tell him it’s going to be close, although I don’t know why. Let him go and find out himself.

Then he says, “Okay, sure, but what about that other place? Wendy’s?”

I open my mouth to respond, but then he suddenly shouts, “NO WAIT, I MEANT DENNY’S, FUCKIN’ DENNYS! YEAH!” and he promptly spins around, runs out of the lobby, punts the can of beer across the parking lot and yells “GOAL!”, then sprints away from the hotel.

Two hours pass. Then he returns, completely sober and dry, and dressed in a fucking suit. He waves at me, says, “Hi, how’s it going, sir?” and gets on the elevator.

I still don’t understand this. I don’t know if I ever will.

The point here is, Denny’s has changed a whole lot apparently since the last time I went there.

Free Clothes

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On facebook, I talk a little bit too much about working at a hotel overnight. So I guess I’ll start posting this stuff on the blog. I’m not putting anything else on here, anyway, so why not?

Right.

So.

An older woman walks up to me at the hotel as I am setting up breakfast, leans in real close, and whispers, “Where do you keep your extra clothes?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your clothes. I need a few t-shirts, maybe a sports jacket. Where do you keep the clothes? These guys [referring to her two, middle aged sons] look just terrible and I can’t stand it.”

“I.. I don’t have any extra clothes.”

“No, I mean, you know, the extra clothes that guests donate to the hotel. Sports jackets and the ties.”

“We don’t … have that?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes…”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll just go drink water.”