In Malmon-orium? Malmorium? He’s Dead Jim? Who The Fuck Is Jim?

We done broke Dan Malmon.


Clicky Clicky CLICK, yo!

30 writers. 2 beloved mainstays of the crime community. 1 victim. An AWESOME cause.

A few months ago I got an FB message from Dan & Kate Malmon – I screamed “YES” at my scream before I finished reading what they sent (and promptly realized I’d need to type a response, but that’s neither here nor there).

I’ll explain a little better. A scant three years ago I was hitting up a family wedding in a town called Roseville near the Twin Cities. Hearing I’d be around, these two absolutely wonderful, generous, and uber-nerdy (a great thing) souls contacted me to say they literally lived right there.

We went out for tots and I’ve loved them since.

Obviously, I’d drop everything to kill one of them on paper.

That said, my story is not the best in this collection BY FAR. I mean, look at this god damn list:

Hector Acosta, Eric Beetner, Dana Cameron, Sarah M. Chen, Matthew Clemens, Angel Colón, Hilary Davidson, Cory Funk, Danny Gardner, Paul J. Garth, Rob Hart, Ed Kurtz, Steve W. Lauden, Russel McLean, Jeff Macfee, Erin Mitchell, Erica Ruth Neubauer, Brad Parks, Thomas Pluck, Bryon Quertermous, Todd Robinson, Jeff Shelby, Nathan Singer, Josh Stallings, Jay Stringer, R.D. Sullivan, Bryan VanMeter, Holly West and Dave White.

Seriously, this is totally worth your time. Bonus? Proceeds go to the MS Society (speaking of which, if you feel the need to give them money straight up; click HERE).

MS sucks and if takes killing a Dan Malmon to help rid the world of it, hey, I’ll kill a Dan Malmon.

Oh, uh, sure, ON PAPER. I should add that in case “accidents” happen.

So, a little fun for the three of ya’ll reading. Back on Augist 31st, the Malmons invaded Manhattan! We threw a surprise Noir at The Bar to celebrate and since I take advice from some of the best at heart (thanks, Johnny Shaw) I wrote a short piece just for the event. I wanted to class things up and read a eulogy to the dearly, 30-time departed Dan Malmon.

Since a lot of you weren’t there (shame), here’s Dan’s eulogy. The poor, poor bastard.

While I’m glad we’re here to celebrate the life and many, many deaths of Dan Malmon. I think I should take some time to clear the air and admit my complicity in his 100% actual, untimely, yet unsurprising death a few weeks ago – even if he is currently tweeting about comics, use your fucking imagination.

I don’t think I need to get into the details regarding that awful Tuesday afternoon where Dan was discovered face-down in a ball pit at a Chuck E Cheese in Little Laos by a group of fourth grade students on a field trip—the medical examiner would say he somehow drowned—or that he was found wearing only a Chuck Knoblauch Yankees jersey that was two sizes too small.

It’s difficult, but I have to confess to how Dan was led into that shallow ball pit. About how he was dressed in that baseball jersey. I have to talk about the hunger I helped start in him; that insatiable appetite so many treated so lightly.

I am of course, talking about the Kit Kat problem.

I shouldn’t have mailed Dan those off-market Japanese Kit Kats. It was a joke, I figured, there’d be no way he’d even eat the damn things—they were sweet potato-flavored for fuck’s sake but eat them he did. Then he asked for any leads on online orders—seemed innocent enough—but apparently it wasn’t bringing him the satisfaction he craved after being exposed to so many flavors added in factories that clearly did not follow guidelines meant to protect humans and/or livestock.

I remember seeing him a few weeks before everything went sour. Dan was up to his ears in debt with the Laotian mob—who were selling him white chocolate Kit Kats dipped in cheap colored stevia; a common black market tactic. He was jittery. Kept asking me if I could ‘give him a break’.  I didn’t know what else to do but give him a few dollars and the URL for a Japanese site that shipped to the states.

He did not accept the hug I offered, though. I felt like that was a good sign, that maybe he was down in the dumps but not enough to accept the physical embrace he so very much despised.

Everything after that is hearsay, but Dan may have fallen into a spiral of refined sugars, palm oil, and whey powder. He was getting heavily involved in the dodge ball gambling scene based out of a downtown YWCA in order to get access to their vending machines.

I guess I’m in the reeds. I’m sorry for enabling Dan to follow such a dark path. For giving him the address of that Chuck E Cheese after hearing the guy who does the voice of the animatronic bear had a line on cough syrup-flavored Kit Kats without confirmation. It’s a damn shame and I’ll always be sort of sorry for that.

That said, I intend to honor Dan’s final wishes—as detailed in the strange, broken English-riddled note found conspicuously next to his body that instructed us to cremate him without question and to leave any and all of his valuable belongings in front of the Chuck E Cheese he was found in. We are also, and I add this was a stipulation that was firmly requested to be read out loud tonight, we are also VERY MUCH CERTAIN THIS UNTIMELY AND ACCIDENTAL DEATH HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH THE KIND, GENEROUS Mr. Keophoxai (“K-op-A-sigh”), WHO IS NOT AT ALL CONNECTED WITH THE LAOTIAN MAFIA, black market candy scene, animatronic voice over artist union. He is only a DJ at Jizzney Land Gentleman’s Club and he was working a double shift the night of Dan’s death who he actually did not really know at all when he thought about it.

So, thanks for coming out tonight and thanks to the readers. We burn the body tomorrow. It’s BYOB, by the way. Also, bring some extra cash. We’ll be collecting to help pay off Dan’s dodge ball debt.

Click all the links above. Go read. Be a better person.

Be easy,



Meat City on Fire (And Other Assorted Debacles)

December 4th, 2017, gird your fucking loins, folks. We’ve got ourselves a short story collection!

Here’s some sexy press release action:

From the off-beat mind that brought you the Song of Piss & Vinegar series and Anthony Award-nominated No Happy Endings comes some of most twisted, dark, and heartfelt short fiction on the scene…

Synopsis: Angel Luis Colón invites you on a short tour of the world as a literary-mix tape to that strange Goth girl with the lazy eye who still wants nothing to do with you; no matter how good that fedora looks on your head.

So what’s in store for your brain?

Follow three major moments in the life of gambling addict and mafia muscle, Sean Clarke as he goes from soft-hearted kid to full blown bastard to broken old man.

Thrill at the short-lived and incredibly violent courtship, marriage, and honeymoon of Hank and Annie.

The set of the country’s most popular trash TV talk show is appropriately trashier than what makes the air.

Beards make absolutely terrible trophies.

Sometimes you’ll crawl through the fire and smoke for a chance at a semi-decent score and a way out of working in a place called “Meat City.”

All that along with even more violence, revenge, Lee Van Cleef, light sex crimes, and cannibals than you can shake a stick at!


“The beauty of what Angel Luis Colon does within the boundaries of the short story is you never know what you’re going to get. He seamlessly shifts from dark noir, to comedy, to character examinations with breakneck speed and the skill of a dozen writers.” —Todd Robinson, author of The Hard Bounce, Rough Trade, and founder of Thuglit

Meet the Author: Angel Luis Colón is the Anthony and Derringer Award-nominated author of No Happy Endings, the Blacky Jaguar series of novellas, and the short story anthology Meat City on Fire (and Other Assorted Debacles). His fiction has appeared in multiple web and print publications including Thuglit, Literary Orphans, and Great Jones Street.

Keep up with him on Twitter via @GoshDarnMyLife.

About Down & Out Books:

Celebrating six years as an award-winning publisher of literary and crime fiction, Down & Out Books is based in Tampa, FL. To obtain an eARC (PDF, mobi, epub) for review, to coordinate an interview with the author, or to find out more information about this book, contact Find out more about Down & Out Books at

Media downloads: Cover art (1800x2700px); Author photo (1500x1000px).

Prices shown are in U.S. Dollars and may vary by country or market.

Wait, what?

I was in day one of all-day training, paying more attention to my phone b/c that’s what you do in all-day training when I got a little message on FB Messenger.

I’ve been nominated for an Anthony Award.

Shit, my novella, NO HAPPY ENDINGS, is nominated for Best Novella.

And my response was that: “Wait, what?”

It’s easy to play at humility and I’m not going to resort to Hallmark-level shit right now. I’m pretty fucking proud. NHE was a lot of work and it was absolutely a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. That folks were willing to give it a nod to get as far as the shortlist? That’s fucking awesome.

That said, I’m grateful as hell.

Look at this incredible list of talent – LOOK AT IT –

My competition alone, especially SW Lauden and Sarah Chen (amazing writers and wonderful folks) does indeed humble me but the rest of that list is staggering to me. I don’t think I’ve begun to process that my name is on there let enough alone believe it deserves to be.

I’m especially proud of my Shotgun Honey homey Jen Conley. If she doesn’t net that anthology award, I riot (that’s an amazing slate, and all truth told, I probably could not take Lawrence Block in a fight – STILL it’s the thought!).

Anyway, here’s to my fellow nominees. Writing is a bear – especially this past year and a half – and we keep fucking wrestling.

Much love, luck, and fortune to you all or, as Blacky Jaguar would say, “Slainte bradán bod mór agus bás in Eireann!”

Be easy,


Updatery (aka Procrasturbation)



So I’ve got a bear of a week ahead. Kid’s got Spring Break, house renovations, and writing that needs writering. At least I have a few days “off”.

Anyway – news!

Today we went and revealed the cover for the next installment in what I’m calling A Song of Piss & Vinegar (no idea where I came up with that clever name) BLACKY JAGUAR AGAINST THE COOL CLUX CULT.

Gaze upon it’s awesomeness courtesy of Ron Earl Phillips, the editor in chief of Shotgun Honey.



We’re launching 6/23/2017. Preorder details will be available soon.

In other story-type news, my latest, My Heart Died on Blackrock Ave., is available over at Great Jones Street for less than a buck!

Haven’t heard of GJS (as we super, mega, awesome writers call it)? It’s the Netflix of short stories and JAMMED with astounding talent. That I share app space with George Saunders and Tobias Wolff is coincidental but utterly mind blowing. Clicking above and downloading the app on your preferred mobile OS is very much recommended.

Bonus: you’re supporting an awesome venture that treats its writers with the respect that’s sadly unique these days.

Anyway, what else do we have…

Noir at The Bar!

I’m participating at an absolutely cool little weekend event, a Noir at The Bar Crawl, if you will. If you’re around Baltimore, catch me on May 21st. here’s the details.


You see this fucking lineup? WUT

It’s going to be an absolute beast of a good time. If you can make the dates before mine, do it, these are all writers you should be reading (some are even on Great Jones Street).

I should have other cool news soon (including other readings and Blacky release goodness).

Be easy,


Bike Curious

For me, it started with a joke.

A ridiculous joke pulled from an equally ridiculous story Christa Faust shared with a few folks during Bouchercon 2015.

In short, someone fucked a bike. I think…gross…

But how? What the hell are the logistics of it? For why even?

Who cares? It was funny.

So a running joke began: make a crime-themed anthology of bike erotica. Bizzaro-level insanity. Some folks got the joke and others rolled their eyes because sometimes writers are afraid of their true feelings.

I am not afraid, my friends. I wrote erotica about a bicycle.

Great Jones Street (an awesome short story app – sort of like Netflix but it doesn’t make you stupid) is publishing my first (yes, first) story about a bike that people find TOO GODDAMN SEXY. Seriously, remember those horrific Emmanuelle movies? This is something like that, but the lady with the big boobs is a bike instead. No boobs – couldn’t figure out a way to make that work.

I’m a fucking genius, right? RIGHT?

Anyway, check out this great art:


Gearotica is part of an awesome erotica collection Great Jones Street is releasing for the holiday called My Bloody Valentine.

Here’s their pitch:

My Bloody Valentine – original flash erotica from Great Jones Street. Coming soon!

Featuring brand new fiction throughout the year in 4 ongoing collections.

The White Collection – gentle, polite, sweet.
The Pink Collection – hot, flush, tempting.
The Red Collection – piqued, dangerous, unrelenting.
The Black Collection – you can never go back.

Original, commissioned flash-length erotica by the greatest writers on the planet.

There’s a pretty impressive group of writers too, including:

Carmen Machado, Rob Hart, Craig Wallwork, Steve Rasnic Tem, Andrew Hook, Steve Adams, Carrie Laben, Meg Pokrass, Karin Lowachee, Max Booth III, and John Palisano

Pretty awesome, no?

Go download the app. It’s jammed with short story goodness from hacks like me and motherfucking LEGENDS like George Saunders and Tobias Wolff (WHAAAA?).

Be easy,