Biker fiction – L.T. Hanlon

Image of a young, studly biker smiling as a tabby cat perches on his shoulder. — **Jim Wilson, a member of Twisted Paladins MC, finds a new prospect.**

After outlaw biker Jim Wilson’s Fat Boy breaks down in tiny Starkton, Colorado, he finds himself trapped in a United Nations psychological warfare exercise.

Served an LSD-laced beer, Jim is persuaded to walk toward the spinning tail rotor of a UN helicopter. But just as he reaches the deadly blades, a stray cat claws into his leg, yanking him back to reality and halting his fatal march.

Together, man and cat join the fight to free Starkton from its nightmare.

Unleash your creativity and color your way through an inspiring saga of resistance and heroism.

Don’t miss this exciting, illustrated story by L.T. Hanlon, the author of “Breaking Fiction” and “Tim McVeigh Died for Your Sins.”

“Agenda 21 Comes to Colorado” — It’s a graphic novel. It’s a coloring book. It’s a warning.

Nighttime view of a lonely biker sitting alone at a outdoor bar in Sturgis, South Dakota. It's raining and he's the only one at the bar.

It’s raining on me and I don’t care. (Photo courtesy Midjourney)

Sitting here on a stool at an outdoor bar in downtown Sturgis, feeling the cold rain pierce through me, my heart aches with a pain I’ve never known.

The betrayal, the confusion, the anger – it’s all too fresh, too raw.

Lollapalooza was supposed to be a celebration, a time to enjoy with friends and my true love. But when I opened that porta-potty door during Billie Eilish on Thursday night and saw my best friend finger-banging my girl, I knew I had only two choices:

Kill them.

Get the hell out of Chicago.

So I fired up my Fat Boy and headed to Sturgis.

I’m half-hammered on a downtown bar’s patio. The other riders move the party inside, but the thunderstorm resonates with my soul, its crashes echoing my inner turmoil. So here I sit, soaked and broken.

I still love her, but it’s a twisted love now, gnarled and painful. And my best friend’s betrayal cuts even deeper. That trust we’d known since Dean Morgan Middle School is ashes. Fuck him.

I want to scream, to hit someone, to understand why I’m on the verge of losing control. But maybe some things aren’t meant to be understood, just felt in all their terrible glory.