the moron
at the end of this book
Short stories from a life, well, lived.
A rowdy collection of short stories exploring the life of a resourceful Mississippi child stumbling into the madness of existence. Join me as I remind myself and others to be wise enough to realize how dumb we are and not so dumb to think we're smart.
Don't worry; these are not the musings of a tortured genius reckoning with a world incapable of grasping his singular brilliance. It’s more of a meditation on how strange it is to be a person - specifically a moron.
Funny, a little sad, sometimes poignant, but always honest, “The Moron at the End of This Book” is a journey worth taking.
Available now in Paperback, Hardcover, Ebook, and Audiobook on Amazon
Praise for “the Moron”
To avoid pushing it into that category of not being able to live up to the hype, I’ll just say this: The Moron at the End of This Book is brilliant in so many ways: casual, clever, funny, self-deprecating, heart-breaking, humble, compassionate, and profound. And his way with words…I’m so impressed with his style that I want to both kill him and make love to him. (Not in that order. And not literally. It’s a metaphor.)
Dan Piraro, Author, Artist, Creator of Bizarro Comics
“Great, Another middle-aged white guy using questionably placed commas to deal with existential dread!”
— Nitt Witless, imaginary best-selling author of “A Shore with no Footprints.”
“Couch! He wrote a book? Well, yeah, I know him. Kinda has that sea monkey intelligence, know what I mean? like, there’s something there, but you gotta use your imagination if you wanna get anything out of the experience.”
— Edgar T. Squintz, fictitious person created for obvious reasons
Congratulations! Your doors of perception have swung open so wide, they’ve now slammed shut behind you.
Congratulations! Your doors of perception have swung open so wide, they’ve now slammed shut behind you.
Maybe I think shit is art? Or maybe art is shit? Was I just a little monster? Am I still? Who knows? Everybody’s a critic, I guess – it’s good to learn that early.
Maybe I think shit is art? Or maybe art is shit? Was I just a little monster? Am I still? Who knows? Everybody’s a critic, I guess – it’s good to learn that early.
I needed to pay a visit to the toilet for a double dose of relief - grateful to the hand of fate for sparing me from a flip-flop-fisticuff with a hepatitis monster and thankful I hadn’t pissed myself on a surprise late-night sprint.
I needed to pay a visit to the toilet for a double dose of relief - grateful to the hand of fate for sparing me from a flip-flop-fisticuff with a hepatitis monster and thankful I hadn’t pissed myself on a surprise late-night sprint.
About The moron :
Andrew couch
To be sure, I’m mostly just some guy. Because who isn’t, really?
What kind of “just some guy” am I, and why should you care about the stories I’d like to share? Well, I’m a traveler, a chronicler, an observer, and a pal of the weird and easily overlooked. I hope to be a champion of the mundane and a conduit between those who like stories and the events which give birth to them - but I’ll settle for being an advocate. As for why you should care – Well, just like you, I have a rich inner life, and you care about your stories all the time, so it's worth giving mine a shot.
Also, having held over forty occupations in what I refuse to call my career, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to collect good stories. These include, but are not limited to, the following:
Washing dishes at an Egyptian-owned catfish restaurant in North Mississippi.
Selling trinkets at Elvis Presley's Graceland.
Answering angry telephone calls on the 57th floor of the Empire State Building.
Building cooking-grease-powered vehicles in Memphis, TN.
Professionally petting rich, drunk ladies in Northern California – or “massage therapy.”
Doing my bit to change the name from "Handy Man" to "Ableman" for reasons which may or may not seem obvious.
And much, much more…
But I don’t just write about work. I’ve walked from the desert of Northern Mexico to the high sierras in California, ridden my bicycle from the Atlantic to the Pacific, driven from Alaska to Costa Rica, and found adventure in a variety of unexpected places. For example, did you know if you sprain an ankle while delivering organic vegetables and sniffing cocaine, you might not be the hero of your story? Yeah, how are you gonna learn that lesson without seeking adventure in unexpected places?
Despite my best efforts, I remain fortunate to have a wife who loves me (Tiffany), a dog who needs me (Pelé), and a family who's stuck with me (you know who you are).
