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Thursday, February 24, 2011

Shocking Dream Excerpt From Johnny Oops

I was going through my roommate’s socks in the dark looking for his stash when the lights came on. He grabbed my arm, and spun me around shouting, “What the hell are you doing?” He didn’t tell anyone else, but when he calmed down he made me promise I would get myself straightened out. I promised I would, but I didn’t mean it. I was hooked and would do anything to get more dope.

I’m pathetic and despicable. I hate myself.

Back in my room at the fraternity, after one of my meetings at Eight Ball's apartment, I lay on the bed trying to make sense of what was happening to me. I had the window shade down and didn’t know whether it was day or night, nor did I care. I figured out I’d rather be stoned than spend all my time being serious and unhappy.

Where the hell did I leave my stash? I don’t even know what I’m doing – some genius. Maybe I’m not real. Maybe my whole life is a fantasy. Maybe some Game Master is playing with my head. I can’t go on like this.

The truth is that except when I’m having sex, I feel like crap—emotionally impotent. I’m oversexed. When I’m having sex, I’m in control. I’m a big man. My Dialectic Spiritualism Religion is a load of crap. I’m a load of crap. Tears are rolling down my cheeks now because I’m depressed and feel so damn sorry for myself, and no one else cares. No one gives a shit about me.

This is ridiculous. I’ll smoke some more weed or snort some cocaine so I don’t have to have these thoughts any more. I have a little stashed away from Sunday’s football game, or was that last week. I don’t remember. I only have a little money left from my winnings and can’t afford to buy any more coke, or get caught trying to steel someone else’s stash again. Now where did I put that stuff? I remember wrapping it up and putting my precious parcel in the dresser, or did I put it in the closet? My God, I hope I didn’t leave my stash in someone else’s room by mistake.

Why am I lying on this damn bed shaking and sweating? I stink and I need a shower, but I haven’t got the energy to drag my sorry ass down the hall to the bathroom. I can’t find my stash. I won’t be able to function. Everyone is laughing at me. My nose is running.

Finally, I feel sleep coming on. I’m so tired. I think I’m dreaming. I’m a fly caught in a web of shredded marijuana leaves. I want to get away, but my wings are entangled. The only way to get loose is to break my wings as I struggle to get free, but then I will lose the part of me that can climb higher and higher and feel great.

What should I do? My Quanta, the sub atomic particles of my essence, are colliding with the little that is left of my senses. I’m shrinking. I’m stuck in a rut of my own making. Slowly, I lift one foot off the bed to the floor and try to stabilize myself, but that isn’t helping. I must be having some kind of drug-induced reaction, or am I in a trance. Who’s that whispering? I can hear you. I know you’re talking about me.

Oh God, I hope I remember where I put my stash.

Only 99 cents on Kindle.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Be Young Again

Remember what it was like to be fourteen and invincible? Relive the experience with Johnny.

Do you remember your first kiss, your first love, your first conquest? You can take a virtual trip with Johnny Oops and be young again.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Raging Hormones

Johnny can't help it if he has the raging hormones of a fourteen year old. His aggressive genius genes are out of control. he doesn't know if he is a prophet, a charlatan or a sex maniac. Sometimes he even questions if he is real.

Find out more at:

Monday, February 7, 2011

Are Your Hormones Out Of Whack?

Johnny can’t help himself. Even when he becomes a full grown man he has the raging hormones of a teenager. He is a veritable genius whose aggressive genes make him act out most of his fantasies as his emotions boil over.

Johnny’s raging hormones lead him to a life on the edge. Moving swiftly from one affair to the next, he experiments with anything that will put his life in jeopardy such as drinking and drugs and sadistic women.

He thrives on living life to the fullest, and sometimes more than one life. Part of the time he feels he exists in different worlds at the same time thanks in part to quantum computing and his belief a game master is creating virtual worlds and alternate realties for him to live in.

Johnny seeks salvation in a new religion he creates called Dialectic Spiritualism, which promotes touching other people in their private essentials to help them find their inner selves. His weird concept of faith leads him to discover that he does believe in God.

He can’t, however, stop his aggressive out of control hormones from getting him in trouble when he falls onto the raging rocks of an inlet of despair, attempts suicide at college, falls off the roof of his fraternity house during a drunken party, crashes his plane in the jungle, parents a seven foot tall giant, hallucinates in a drug infused frenzy that giant watermelons are falling from the sky filled with beautiful women, or enters into an adulterous affair with a movie starlet when newly married to the love of his life, Jody.

Constantly striving for his own redemption, Johnny crosses the Country trying to help others find salvation, and he goes on National TV to promote his causes, but his dark side gets the better of him as he is captured in pictures printed in the newspapers hog tied and stripped naked in an orgy of masochism.

In a state of despair after his followers leave him, he loses touch with reality and even consciousness only to be redeemed by God with the help of his inner self – a one-foot tall albino dressed in a boy scout uniform who is responsible for Johnny’s new beginning.

Hi, this is Arthur Levine author of the novel Johnny Oops, find out why Johnny’s hormones are out of whack by purchasing the novel Johnny Oops at

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Bullies - excerpt from Johnny Oops

One on one, I can sometimes handle myself when a fight starts, but if these three bullies attack me at the same time, I’m toast. I think they know that.

Sometimes, when we are on a thirty -minute recess, the five bells calling us to the cafeteria for lunch saves my ass. Vick and his friends would rather eat than fight. In my case this signifies a respite from these dumb bullies who don’t have the command of the English language I do. I guess I have to learn to live with the bells even though I firmly believe there has got to be a better way. School is hell. My life is quickly turning into a disaster.

God, why are you letting this happen to me? I’m your Messenger – at least I think I am.

This past Saturday there were no bells to save me. I thought I was safe because school was closed and I was taking a shortcut across the schoolyard with my friend Billy to go to the candy store and spend some of my allowance.

Three bullies, who are the bane of my existence, jumped out from behind a garbage disposal bin in back of the school cafeteria, and started pushing me around. They must live here.

I tried to run away too, but I froze in fear. Vick taunted me, saying, “Where you going? How come Mommy let you out of the house?”

Stan pushed me over Don’s outstretched leg, and I found myself flat on my back. The pain creeping over me was a killer. Couldn’t draw a breath. Lungs exploding. When I started to figure out what had happened to me I couldn’t move. I wasn’t functioning. Couldn’t muster the strength to turn over and try to get up. I tried to raise my hands in front of me to protect myself, but I was paralyzed. My muscles tensed reflexively: as I got ready fro the beating I knew was coming. A sense of hopelessness and dread crept over me like a black hole that was sucking my useless body into the ground. Tried to pretend I was somewhere else. Didn’t work. I was in too much pain

Before I could raise my hands or legs to defend myself, Vick, the leader of the pack, jumped on me straddling my thighs, and started smacking me in bridge of my nose with the palm of his right hand, while punching me in the stomach with his left fist. The blows came nonstop. Vick wore a big silver pinky ring. The damn thing split my lip. Blood flowed everywhere. The air whooshed from my lungs. I gasped for breath feeling I was going to pass out. Wishing I did. The warm, salty taste of my own blood, trickling down my upper lip from my nose, and into my mouth, making me nauseous. Wave after wave of crunching pain racked my body. I started coughing and couldn’t stop.

Read the rest in the unabridged print edition at