Enjoying Super Bowl Parties for the Sarcastically Inclined

 By Chris Gay                                                                                                     

Super Bowl Sunday Arrives

There are many ways in which to maximize your comfort and amusement while watching the game at a Super Bowl party. In that spirit, listed here are a few helpful hints to help you enjoy our unique football holiday. (Listen, if others cared enough about their own Super Bowl party comfort, they’d be reading this instead of you. They snoozed, they lost.)

Play the Food Fool

If you generally spend Super Bowl Sunday with the same people, this works along the same principle as Thanksgiving does. Either make it a point to loudly mock your own pathetic cooking skills, or prepare a dish so bland that it’d make a plate of raw zucchini drizzled with maple syrup seem more appetizing.

If you’re successful in this effort, no one will bother asking you to cook anything ever again. Then the most you’ll ever have to do in the future is make a quick stop for some whipped cream or a few bags of potato chips. (By the way, in the latter instance buy your favorite brand. As there are usually plenty of varieties to choose from at any party, you might as well assure yourself of there being a flavor that you like.)

Mockery

Have some fun at the expense of the resident Know-it-All. Each year, there’s usually someone at every party who loves to show off his or her sports knowledge. (Most often, it’s a his) There are even rumors that, sometimes, that arrogant bastard is me. Whatever. Jealousy is an ugly color.

But I digress. Make the party experience more pleasurable for all by occasionally asking him legitimate-sounding football questions.

First feign your sports ignorance, and then specifically request his expert definition of an Incarnate Interception. Or even better, ask him to explain how the Secondary is employed in the Penny Defensive Package. Even though no such terms exist, there will still be a decent chance that rather than admitting he has no clue what you’re talking about, he’ll actually try to answer. If so, it’ll provide everyone there with years of laughter as you all reminiscence annually. (“Hey, remember the time this clown tried to tell us that…”)

Clean Up and Leftovers

As the party winds down, it’s vitally important to always make a sincerity-laden request to your hostess to help clean up. The benefits of this faux generosity are twofold.
First, she’ll almost always say “No, thank you,” anyway; especially if you’re a guy. Our well-earned reputation for being uncaring, lazy cleaners really pays off here. Plus you’ll get credit for volunteering without even having to do anything to earn it. (Note: If the host is a guy, don’t bother asking. He won’t expect you to anyway, and if you do ask he’ll accept because he doesn’t care either and just wants the mess cleaned up.)

At the end of the evening, you’ll probably be asked to take some food home with you. If so, don’t decline. I mean really, why would you? You could easily snag a few days’ worth of simple meals and/or snacks for yourself. However:

Beware the Cookware Trap!

If at all possible when packing up your gratis party leftovers, use disposable plates and plastic wrap. No guy wants to be stuck with a plate or over-sized casserole dish he’ll have to chip “Mary’s Famous Chili Cheese Dip” out of for an hour, once it’s hardened into a victuals-based cement.

Not to mention having to remember its whereabouts while simultaneously ensuring it remains intact for six months to a year.

Saying Goodnight and Your Sham Promise to Host Next Time

On your way out make sure to not only thank your host/hosts, but also to mention your requisite promise to return the favor.

Yes, you’ll both know that it ain’t happening, but there is that annoying etiquette requirement thing to consider. Besides, it’s a small price to pay if you’re walking out of there with an entire plate of Buffalo wings.

God. The Devil. The Bet. The Fate of Mankind in the Balance. Check out Chris Gay’s new theological, paranormal crime thriller, Ghost of a Chance.

What if a late 20th Century Jack the Ripper tearing apart a small Connecticut town was the result of a pancake shop bet between God and the devil? Imagine if Satan’s impact on the world in the new millennium hinged entirely on one police officer’s skill in hunting down a ruthless killer…hiding in plain sight. Detective Danny Seabrook is an unwitting pawn in a divine chess match with immeasurable consequences for all mankind. Set primarily in 1995, this action-packed suspense thriller features clever dialogue, humor and romance-with an ending you will never forget.

*     *     *     *

‘Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal’ by Chris Gay

As the end draws near for long-retired Sherlock Holmes in Sussex Downs, he calls one last time for the company of his best friend and colleague, Dr. John Watson. What was meant to be four last days of camaraderie and reminiscing instead leads to the most shocking, explosive revelation both of the great detective’s career, and his life.

Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal is a Holmes tale like none other ever conceived. Fans of Baker Street’s legendary detective will be left with the insatiable need to contemplate its extraordinary conclusion forevermore.

*     *     *     *

Chris Gay is an author, freelance writer, voice-over artist, broadcaster and actor. For 7 years he wrote and broadcast a daily, minute radio humor spot in Hartford, Connecticut. He’s been published nationally in Writer’s Digest and has written the paranormal, theological thriller novel Ghost of a Chance, Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal, (an original, extraordinary short story on the great detective with a spectacular twist) and four humor books: And That’s the Way It Was…Give or Take: A Daily Dose of My Radio Writings, Shouldn’t Ice Cold Beer Be Frozen? My 365 Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota, and The Bachelor Cookbook: Edible Meals with a Side of Sarcasm & Another Round of Ice Cold Beer: My 365 More Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota. He’s written and voiced radio commercials, authored both comedic and non-comedic freelance articles, scripts, press releases, website, media and technical content, done occasional radio color commentary for local sports, and acted in a couple of movies and plays. His website is chrisjgay.com, and his humor blog can be found at chrisgay.wordpress.com.

http://www.chrisjgay.com

Author Page (on Facebook)

Chris Gay Author/Writer/ Humorist (on Facebook)

Ghost of a Chance (on Facebook)

Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal (on Facebook)

The Bachelor Cookbook: Edible Meals with a Side of Sarcasm (on Facebook)

And That’s the Way it Was…Give or Take: A Daily Dose of My Radio Writings (on Facebook)

Shouldn’t Ice Cold Beer Be Frozen? My 365 Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota (on Facebook)

Another Round of Ice Cold Beer: My 365 More Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota (on Facebook)

https://chrisgay.wordpress.com

Movies:

2012:

Hope Springs (Barfly)

2009:

Testimonies of a Quiet New England Town (Constable John Gilbert)

 

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October 17, 1997: My Golf Date with Destiny

By Chris Gay

Autumn had arrived, and brought with it a majestic, colorful splendor to that crisp October day. Although it was only 16 years ago, already it feels like 5,840 days. To begin, I had met my friend Jeff at the Twin Hills golf course in Coventry, Connecticut, and though we lost track of each other some years back, I’m confident he pauses to warmly recall my Hole-in-One on this date each year.

Certain other friends of mine who had the misfortune to not be there remember the moment well, anyway. One of them- Keith- who shall remain nameless, may have even mumbled something at some point about me having a slight tendency to “over reflect” on this wondrous sporting achievement. I’m sure that not only was he joking, but in fact looks forward to my annual retelling of the story.

The Tale

I’d started out that day having my typical golf outing. In other words, seven holes of play that almost certainly were the inspiration for Tim Conway’s old ‘Dorf on Golf’ videos. The eleven strokes I took to finish out the 7^th hole, however, was not on me. That can be laid squarely at the feet of Mother Nature. She had had the nerve to drape the entire woods to the right of the tee box with an absurd amount of foliage, showing no regard for my tendency to slice whatsoever. I’d been out there all summer; she, like, had to have seen my swing before. Whatever though, I’m past that. The gist of the story is that several of my Spaulding Plus 3’s went to their eternal rest under a carpet of multi-colored leaves.

As I walked to the 8^th hole sullenly recording my septuple bogey, I had no idea that my next swing would forever catapult me into the annals of New England sports history. When my turn to tee off came I strode with great masculinity to the box as I gazed out toward the green of this familiar Par 3, looking for the flag that constantly mocked me with its placement directly behind a sand trap.

The Swing

This time however, it lay straight ahead; the proverbial one time out of a hundred that it did. Now in its more advantageous location I sensed something unusual, as if this time the gods had something special planned for me. I was sure that Jeff could sense it too, as he looked upon me with what can only be described as a remarkable indifference.

I set the dimpled sphere on its curved wooden stand and stepped back. Within seconds I drew back a 7-iron over my head and, after pausing ever-so-briefly, swung it forward with uncanny precision. As the ball took flight on its 152-yard journey, I momentarily wondered where the slice I had labored so long to perfect had gone. For some reason the orb was traveling straight for the dance floor and, when it landed, rolled right up to the lip of the cup and…disappeared. I held my breath. Not believing my own 20/15 vision, I turned and asked Jeff if it had instead just rolled right off the back of the green. He didn’t think so.

Nirvana

Slowly we walked toward the pin, its attached flag moving gently as a result of a trivial breeze. As I reached the brink of the cup, my feet froze and stayed firmly planted a half-yard away. I leaned in to the point where the top of my head was resting against the pole. The part in my hair was impacted slightly by this action, yet I took no notice. I looked down and there, resting comfortably a few inches deep inside of the hole, was seemingly the only Spaulding Plus 3 that I hadn’t already lost. (Yes, I see you smirking at the Spauldings. Look, I was very young and they were on sale)

To my left a previously unnoticed foursome, who only recently vacated the green that I had just immortalized, began applauding. As the magnitude of the accomplishment sank in I jumped into Jeff’s arms, in an exact replay of a scene made famous forty-one years earlier- nearly to the day- by Yogi Berra and Don Larsen. In fact, the only difference between the two moments was that 64,513 fewer people, including no attractive women, were around to witness mine. Ah well, what can you do? I still took tremendous joy in scoring my first ever Hole-in-One that didn’t involve outsmarting a motorized toy windmill.

Afterword

The remaining ten holes were anticlimactic. The last thing I recall before we got to the clubhouse was writing a ‘1’ next to the ’11’ on my scorecard. It was there, at the 19^th hole, that I related the first ever telling of this tale to an attentive, beer sipping audience of elderly men.

That day as I left my information with the attendant to be engraved on the trophy that I can see clearly as I write this run-on sentence, I looked idly down at my dress code-mocking New York Giants sweatshirt. I wondered where this memory would reside alongside other amateur sports accomplishments of mine in ice hockey, football, baseball and basketball that no one cares anything about, either. Ultimately I decided that it didn’t matter. I had accomplished something that few other golfers have ever done: I had gotten incredibly, amazingly lucky. I was the blind squirrel that found his acorn, on October 17, 1997.

God. The Devil. The Bet. The Fate of Mankind in the Balance. Check out Chris Gay’s new theological, paranormal crime thriller, Ghost of a Chance.

What if a late 20th Century Jack the Ripper tearing apart a small Connecticut town was the result of a pancake shop bet between God and the devil? Imagine if Satan’s impact on the world in the new millennium hinged entirely on one police officer’s skill in hunting down a ruthless killer…hiding in plain sight. Detective Danny Seabrook is an unwitting pawn in a divine chess match with immeasurable consequences for all mankind. Set primarily in 1995, this action-packed suspense thriller features clever dialogue, humor and romance-with an ending you will never forget.

*     *     *     *

‘Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal’ by Chris Gay

As the end draws near for long-retired Sherlock Holmes in Sussex Downs, he calls one last time for the company of his best friend and colleague, Dr. John Watson. What was meant to be four last days of camaraderie and reminiscing instead leads to the most shocking, explosive revelation both of the great detective’s career, and his life.

Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal is a Holmes tale like none other ever conceived. Fans of Baker Street’s legendary detective will be left with the insatiable need to contemplate its extraordinary conclusion forevermore.

*     *     *     *

‘The Bachelor Cookbook: Edible Meals with a Side of Sarcasm’ by Chris Gay

The Bachelor Cookbook is the perfect (and likely only) addition to any guy’s collection of sarcastic culinary literature. If you’re between relationships and looking to make the most of whatever foodstuffs you’ve got until you meet that next special woman, then your prayers have been answered. Unless you’re an atheist; in which case coming across this book just means your luck was in today. For men looking for sustenance over style, I give you this spectacular cookbook. Well, I don’t “give it” to you, per se. You have to pay for it.

Featuring such taste-bud tempting recipes as:

Popcorn Salad

Meat on a Bed of Rice

Cheese and Crackers

Spaghetti Sandwich

Plus Miscellaneous Cookbook Humor, too!

*     *     *     *

Chris Gay is an author, freelance writer, voice-over artist, broadcaster and actor. He writes and broadcasts a daily, minute radio humor spot in Hartford, Connecticut. He’s also written the paranormal, theological thriller novel Ghost of a Chance and three humor books: And That’s the Way It Was…Give or Take: A Daily Dose of My Radio Writings, Shouldn’t Ice Cold Beer Be Frozen? My 365 Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota, and The Bachelor Cookbook: Edible Meals with a Side of Sarcasm. He’s been published nationally in Writer’s Digest and is currently writing his fourth and fifth humor books, Another Round of Ice Cold Beer: My 365 More Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota  and  Something Witty this Way Comes; the latter being a collection of pieces written for his humor blog. His book Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal, is an original, extraordinary short story on the great detective. Also, he’s writing the Ghost of a Chance sequel Perdition’s Wrath, and has written and voiced radio commercials, authored both comedic and non-comedic freelance articles, scripts, press releases, website, media and technical content, done occasional radio color commentary for local sports, and acted in a couple of movies and plays. His website is chrisjgay.com, and his humor blog can be found at chrisgay.wordpress.com.

http://www.chrisjgay.com

Author Page on Facebook

Chris Gay Author/Writer/ Humorist on Facebook

Ghost of a Chance on Facebook

Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal on Facebook

https://chrisgay.wordpress.com

Twitter: @chrisgay13

Movies:

2012:

Hope Springs (Barfly)

2009:

Testimonies of a Quiet New England Town (Constable John Gilbert)

Top 10 Reasons Americans Don’t Like Soccer

By Chris Gay

10 ) “Injuries” sustained during play are more fake than the ones the actors treat on the set of “House“

9 ) Concept of game clock running up simply too difficult to grasp

8 ) Have trouble with the English translation of “Goooooooooooooooooooooooooooallllllllllllll!”

7 ) A 1-0 deficit in the 4th minute nearly insurmountable

6 ) After a bad call, chants of “kill the ref” are not necessarily facetious

5 ) Color-blind Americans can’t tell the difference between yellow and red cards

4 ) No Designated Hitter

3 ) The goal isn’t quite big enough

2 ) Penalty kicks simply too difficult to make

1 ) Please, somebody, just pick up the freakin’ ball

Chris Gay is a freelance writer, voice-over artist, and broadcaster/actor. He’s authored the supernatural, theological thriller novel Ghost of a Chance . (2013)  He also writes and broadcasts a daily, sponsored radio humor spot in Hartford, Connecticut, and has written three humor books: Shouldn’t Ice Cold Beer Be Frozen? My 365 Random Thoughts To Improve Your Life Not One Iota,  And That’s the Way It Was…Give or Take: A Daily Dose of My Radio Writings and The Bachelor Cookbook: Recipes with a Side of Sarcasm for the Single Guy. (2013) In partnership with KSpin Designs for the benefit of Melanoma research, he’s written Suesea Sunscreen and the Big Lesson. (2014) Currently he’s writing two sequels, Another Round of Ice Cold Beer: My 365 More Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota, & Perdition’s Wrath, (The Ghost of a Chance sequel) He has written and voiced radio commercials, authored both comedic and non-comedic freelance articles, scripts, and press releases, done occasional radio color commentary for local sports, and acted in a couple of movies and plays. He is the media and technical writer for the clothing company KSpin Designs.

Movies:

2012:

 Hope Springs (Barfly)

2009:

Testimonies of a Quiet New England Town (Constable John Gilbert)

http://www.chrisjgay.com

On Facebook

https://chrisgay.wordpress.com

A Connecticut Yankee Fan in Red Sox-leaning Hartford

By Chris Gay

I am a New Englander, born and bred. I love pumpkins, hayrides, and the concept of clambakes. (What can I tell you; I hate seafood. Except for those little Pepperidge Farm Goldfish) I also love flea markets, sledding, autumn leaves, long walks on longer beaches and…the New York Yankees. How is that, you ask? It’s a short story. But first, a little filler; er, perspective.

Connecticut’s  Identity Crisis

I’m from Hartford, Connecticut, where generations of people have grown up rooting for either of these teams not only in the same neighborhood, but often in the same household. As if Hartford doesn’t have enough of an identity crisis. (I’ll get to that topic another time) For those of you more well-versed in the Jersey Shore than in geography; unless, of course, the geographical question is actually about the New Jersey shore, we’re centrally located between New York and Boston. In fact, depending on whom you ask, “Hartford” translates either to “Southern Massachusetts” or “Upper Manhattan County.” Just kidding. In truth, Hartford translated loosely means “Deer Crossing,” but that wouldn’t have been quite as funny. (Incidentally New England trivia buffs, “Boston’s Lap Dog” can be interpreted as “Providence, Rhode Island”)

I’ve played softball next to nine other men alternatively wearing Red Sox and Yankees jerseys; where else on Earth would you see that? What baseball has regressed into here in the Constitution State is a never-ending war of words between native Nutmeggers; both fighting for the honor of two wholly separate states that, apart from the contents of our wallets, couldn’t possibly care less about us. Be that as it may, the barbs are unending. Arguments between friends, family. co-workers, teammates, gym attendees and wait staff are common, everyday occurrences here.

In the Beginning…

Here’s the chronology of becoming a baseball fan in Connecticut. You’re 1) Born 2) You choose (or in many cases, be assigned to) the Yankees or Red Sox while still in the maternity ward. From that day on, the only thing that separates you from the native fans of either team in their respective states, is that you don’t have some form of unintelligible accent.

If you’re a guy, generally your preference for one team over the other is based on either emulating or rebelling against your father. If you’re a woman, I couldn’t tell you. I chose the Yankees in my formative years, and if you think I’m a bandwagon jumper it’s worth noting that over my lifetime I’ve also rooted hard; and in some cases much harder, for the Hartford Whalers, Buffalo Bills, Buffalo Sabres, Montreal Expos, Seattle Super Sonics and Kansas City Royals. But I digress. As I grew up, became my own man and began forming my own opinions on everything from sports to politics, I realized I had made the right choice, regardless of parentage.

Like both Democrats and Republicans, fans of the Red Sox and Yankees are to some extent hypocrites. The Red Sox ladle out contracts by the multi-millions while their fans still accuse the Yankees of buying titles. (One can only imagine a Pittsburgh Pirate fan’s reaction after listening to Boston-ians whine about payroll) Citing loyalty, they simultaneously call Johnny Damon a carpetbagger and worse for taking 12 million more dollars to play the same game 4 hours south, while remaining curiously silent as their own management signs Bronson Arroyo to a hometown discount, just before promptly trading him to Cincinnati. They erupt intermittently with chants of “Yankees suck!” even when the Red Sox are below them in the standings. (Which makes sense, one would imagine, if you’ve consumed enough liquefied barley and hops) Prior to 2004, listening to arrogant Red Sox fans you’d never know which team had gone 86 years without winning the World Series. In fact, among my friends who dislike both teams, they prefer the Yankees to win just to keep Sox fans quiet for awhile, as if that were possible.

As for Yankees fans, we are…well, on second thought, a perfect representation of manners and sportsmanship. (What did you expect? This isn’t Curt Shilling’s blog)

At any rate, I love New England. It’s part of the fabric of who I am and always will be. I’m a history buff who’d much prefer spending the day in Boston than New York. I treasure the foliage of Vermont, the beauty of New Hampshire, and the beaches of southern Maine. But as for becoming a New England pro sports fan, aside from a return of my beloved Hartford Whalers, I’ll pass.

The best thing I can think to say on behalf of Boston fans is this: a bartender in Old Orchard Beach, Maine once served me a cold beverage in a New England Patriots glass, and didn’t throw it at me when she was immediately asked to pour it into a neutral one.

God. The Devil. The Bet. The Fate of Mankind in the Balance. Check out my new theological, paranormal crime thriller, Ghost of a Chance.

What if a late 20th Century Jack the Ripper tearing apart a small Connecticut town was the result of a pancake shop bet between God and the devil? Imagine if Satan’s impact on the world in the new millennium hinged entirely on one police officer’s skill in hunting down a ruthless killer…hiding in plain sight. Detective Danny Seabrook is an unwitting pawn in a divine chess match with immeasurable consequences for all mankind. Set primarily in 1995, this action-packed suspense thriller features clever dialogue, humor and romance-with an ending you will never forget.

Chris Gay is an author, freelance writer, voice-over artist, broadcaster and actor. He writes and broadcasts a daily, sponsored minute radio humor spot in Hartford, Connecticut. He’s written three humor books: Shouldn’t Ice Cold Beer Be Frozen? My 365 Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota, And That’s the Way It Was…Give or Take: A Daily Dose of My Radio Writings, and The Bachelor Cookbook: Recipes with a Side of Sarcasm for the Single Guy. He’s currently writing his fourth humor book, Another Round of Ice Cold Beer: My 365 More Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota, along with the Ghost of a Chance sequel Perdition’s Wrath. He has written and voiced radio commercials, authored both comedic and non-comedic freelance articles, scripts, press releases, website, media and technical content, done occasional radio color commentary for local sports, and acted in a couple of movies and plays. He lives in Connecticut.

http://www.chrisjgay.com

Author Page on Facebook

On Facebook

https://chrisgay.wordpress.com

Movies:

2012:

Hope Springs (Barfly)

2009:

Testimonies of a Quiet New England Town (Constable John Gilbert

Great- Grandma and My Only Cup of Coffee Ever

By Chris Gay

The year was 1979. With it came the debut of the Sony Walkman, the Happy Meal and ESPN. The Pittsburgh Pirates had actually won the World Series. (I’m not kidding, look it up) Among those notable happenings was yet one more that’s remembered with much less fanfare. It was the year that saw me simultaneously consume both my first and last cup of coffee.

I was six, maybe seven. And having spent a good portion of my youth with my great-grandma I had become more and more curious about the taste of the dark, aromatic brew she consumed with regularity. My curiosity ultimately got the best of me, and I asked to try a cup. She told me that I wouldn’t like it. I told her I would.

She reminded me that we had had a similar conversation once before when I’d asked to sample her bar of baker’s chocolate. In that instance, she’d warned me that it tasted nothing like the standard Hershey bar I’d become accustomed to. I didn’t believe her. She was right; in fact comically right. This time would be different, though. In hindsight I had never seen anyone snacking on baker’s chocolate; but every grown-up I knew drank coffee.

I asked her over and over until, at last, she acquiesced. On that memorable morning, she opened a fresh can and began the ceremonial Brewing of the Grounds. Though it was a daily ritual for her, this time brought with it an air of greater significance. It was to be the day I took another step toward adulthood, while simultaneously pushing my youth a little further into the rear-view mirror.

Once I had conquered coffee, I figured the only rung left on the ladder to full-fledged maturity would be to extricate myself from the smaller table at Thanksgiving.

That was the future though, and this was the present. I still had to prove myself and somehow best the bitter beverage.

Last Minute Waffling

As the brown liquid percolated and fell into the coffeepot drop by drop I wondered if the old adage be careful what you wish for was actually true. There was still time to back out. My great-grandma was one of the all-time good guys. She’d understand and, what’s more, she’d keep my flip-flopping to herself and never mock my silliness to another soul.

No, I finally decided. It would be drunk. After all, I’d already been on this Earth long enough to have seen a handful of Christmases in person; easily old enough to handle one nondescript cup of coffee.

Suddenly, a familiar scent filled the kitchen. One that I had come to know only too well. Time was growing short. Grandma reached into the cupboard and took down one of the  two-toned white plastic cups with the weighted, inexplicably yellow bottoms she favored for these more caffeinated occasions.

It looked like a Weeble-Wobble except that the top was open, so if you were to tip it over, instead of bouncing itself back into place the cool way the Wobble would, it would simply stay down and spill out onto the floor the entirety of its contents. Clearly, that was merely a procrastinating thought that carried no relevance now. Coffee time was upon, and I was wavering.

With all the drips now dropped, Grandma pulled the coffeepot from the hotplate and poured my cup, seemingly oblivious to the magnitude of the moment. She placed it in front of me while I tried my best to look unconcerned in my generic, yellow football pajamas.

I took it, and then glanced up at her. For one brief moment our eyes locked. Hers filled with sympathy; mine, with apprehension. In the distance I could hear the tick-tock of the old Seth Thomas clock that she had brought with her many years before from Scranton, Pennsylvania to East Hartford, Connecticut.

The moment held a little longer. She began to look at me as if I was awaiting a call from the governor. If so, none came. I raised the cup to my lips and, after one more slight hesitation, took my sip. “Well?” She’d asked with uncharacteristic impatience. I briefly considered what I had just consumed and then reached my verdict. “This sucks, Grandma.” She nodded, knowingly.

Over the years that followed I’ve often considered trying another cup. Especially nowadays, when coffee comes in more flavors than a bag of Jelly Bellies. I’ve even walked into the occasional Starbucks; albeit only to buy a large cookie and the tasty, frozen green tea concoction that my ex-wife introduced me to a few years back.

Perhaps at some point the day will come when I am willing to try again, if only to stop being subjected to the snide commentary I receive when someone sees me drinking a diet soda at eight in the morning. Until that day comes however, I’ll content myself with the one special memory coffee allowed me to share with my great-grandmother in 1979.

God. The Devil. The Bet. The Fate of Mankind in the Balance. Check out Chris Gay’s new theological, paranormal crime thriller, Ghost of a Chance.

What if a late 20th Century Jack the Ripper tearing apart a small Connecticut town was the result of a pancake shop bet between God and the devil? Imagine if Satan’s impact on the world in the new millennium hinged entirely on one police officer’s skill in hunting down a ruthless killer…hiding in plain sight. Detective Danny Seabrook is an unwitting pawn in a divine chess match with immeasurable consequences for all mankind. Set primarily in 1995, this action-packed suspense thriller features clever dialogue, humor and romance-with an ending you will never forget.

*     *     *     *

‘Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal’ by Chris Gay

As the end draws near for long-retired Sherlock Holmes in Sussex Downs, he calls one last time for the company of his best friend and colleague, Dr. John Watson. What was meant to be four last days of camaraderie and reminiscing instead leads to the most shocking, explosive revelation both of the great detective’s career, and his life.

Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal is a Holmes tale like none other ever conceived. Fans of Baker Street’s legendary detective will be left with the insatiable need to contemplate its extraordinary conclusion forevermore.

*     *     *     *

‘The Bachelor Cookbook: Edible Meals with a Side of Sarcasm’ by Chris Gay

The Bachelor Cookbook is the perfect (and likely only) addition to any guy’s collection of sarcastic culinary literature. If you’re between relationships and looking to make the most of whatever foodstuffs you’ve got until you meet that next special woman, then your prayers have been answered. Unless you’re an atheist; in which case coming across this book just means your luck was in today. For men looking for sustenance over style, I give you this spectacular cookbook. Well, I don’t “give it” to you, per se. You have to pay for it.

Featuring such taste-bud tempting recipes as:

Popcorn Salad

Meat on a Bed of Rice

Cheese and Crackers

Spaghetti Sandwich

Plus Miscellaneous Cookbook Humor, too!

*     *     *     *

Chris Gay is an author, freelance writer, voice-over artist, broadcaster and actor. He wrote the paranormal, theological thriller novel ‘Ghost of a Chance,’ the novella ‘Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal’ and several humor books: ‘And That’s the Way It Was…Give or Take: A Daily Dose of My Radio Writings,’ ‘The Bachelor Cookbook: Edible Meals with a Side of Sarcasm,’ ‘Shouldn’t Ice Cold Beer Be Frozen? My 365 Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota,’ ‘Another Round of Ice Cold Beer: My 365 More Random Thoughts to Improve Your Life Not One Iota,’ and later in 2014, ‘Something Witty This Way Comes’ and ‘Kris Kringle From Man to Myth: The Origin of Santa Claus.’ He’s been published nationally in Writer’s Digest and is currently writing the Ghost of a Chance sequel ‘Perdition’s Wrath.’ For seven years he wrote and broadcast a daily, sponsored radio humor spot in Hartford, Connecticut. Chris has written and voiced radio commercials, authored both comedic and non-comedic freelance articles, scripts, press releases, website, media and technical content, done occasional radio color commentary for local sports, and acted in a couple of movies and plays. His website is chrisjgay.com.

 

 

 

 

 

http://www.chrisjgay.com

Author Page on Facebook

Chris Gay Author/Writer/ Humorist on Facebook

Ghost of a Chance on Facebook

Sherlock Holmes and the Final Reveal on Facebook

https://chrisgay.wordpress.com

Twitter: @chrisgay13

Movies:

2012: Hope Springs (Barfly)

2009: Testimonies of a Quiet New England Town (Constable John Gilbert)