Well, hey there. Name’s Benny Bumpster. I been sittin’ on the same patch of Florida dirt for more years than I can count, rockin’ on a porch chair that squeaks louder than the cicadas in August. Trailer park life’s been my world from the get-go—neighbors hollerin’, dogs barkin’, and more stories floatin’ around than you could fit in a Sunday paper.
Thing is, I’ve always been an avid reader. Mystery, romance, the funnies—you name it, I’ve probably dog-eared a copy. One day I thought, “Shoot, Benny, you’ve heard enough tall tales in this park to fill a book. Why not give it a whirl?” So here I am, puttin’ pen to paper, tryin’ my hand at spinnin’ yarns that’ll make you laugh, scratch your head, and maybe stay up a little later than you meant to.
Now, I ain’t no fancy big-city writer. Just an old Florida fella with a stubborn dachshund, a stack of library cards, and a porch view worth a thousand words. But if my stories give you a smile, or make you forget the heat for a while, then I figure I’ve done my job.
