Travis Hill
I'm an author in the Pacific Northwest. I live with my five completely worthless but awesome cats. I write stories I want to read that no one else is writing.
My mailing list: https://www.angrygames.com
Writes: Science Fiction / Fantasy / Horror / Adult Fiction / Drama / Humor / Whatever I Feel Like
Favorite activity: Trying to convince my brother that I need a ninja sword. I mean, they wouldn't sell the things on TV if they weren't invaluable weapons for when gangs of ninja suddenly crash through your living room windows, swords drawn.
A gun in this situation is useless, as ninja laugh at guns while kicking them out of your hand (then kick you in the stomach / knees / groin / face / spine a nanosecond later). The only way to fight evil ninja is with a sword. Hence, ninja sword. Ninja respect sword fighting.
My brother, he doesn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation when it comes to blood-crazed ninja looking to exact revenge on random citizens. He even had the nerve to ask me, very sarcastically, if these "ninja" (his finger quotes, not mine) spent their evenings driving a black ninja van down suburban streets looking for family members of ancestral enemies, just so they can exact revenge to fulfill some kind of ninja honor code.
To be honest, at first, I thought he was serious. Because he totally described ninja behavior, down to the last detail. They DO drive around suburban neighborhoods looking for surviving family lines of ancestral enemies to vanquish (or defeat, or behead, or whatever it is that ninja do to their intended victims who DON'T have a ninja sword to fight back).
You can imagine my displeasure when he revealed he was being whatever is more sarcastic than "sarcastic." Then you can imagine my immediate disappointment, possibly resentment, but I love my brother, so maybe just annoyance, unless a gang of ninja DO bust down my door and start swinging priceless katanas forged in the ancient fires of Mt. Xi deep in the heart of the Dragon Wastes, it most likely would swing to resentment, except it wouldn't, since I'd have no sword to defend myself and so we'd be walking within the spirit world, me whining and complaining to him whenever I wasn't making him listen to me say I TOLD YOU SO repeatedly. Wow, that's a really long sentence, packed full of vitamins and irons or something. Let's see, I totally forgot what I was trying to say... oh, right, so anyway, imagine my immediate disappointment after being mocked when he told me I was not allowed to own a ninja sword.
This is a true story, by the way, other than a couple of minor omissions (we've had this discussion (argument) run past the fifteen minute mark before) on my part to make him seem totally less mean and stuff. But he is. I never get to have any fun (hint: don't ever be a younger brother if you can help it, but, you know, don't go murdering your brother(s) just to make sure you aren't the youngest). So I secretly write stories to escape my own reality of being forty years old and not being allowed to own a beautiful, sleek, dangerously sharp, sale-priced ninja sword. I know, right? It even comes with a polished wooden stand!
Also, I like "The Wire." For some reason, I feel compelled to say that whenever I meet new people. I tried watching the series on DVD to find a subliminal message or some other sinister mechanism that forces people who've watched the show to announce that they love it, and then recommend it to anyone who hasn't seen it to do so as soon as humanly possible. I think I found a subliminal message, but it made me forget about finding a sinister message and instead redoubled its efforts to get me to talk about "The Wire" whenever I meet new people.
Um... There. That's my author bio. It is not full of lies, regardless of what anyone else that might be living in my house or related to me says. Don't believe them (him). I wouldn't write this unless it was true.
