| Finns i lager? | ||
|---|---|---|
| Webblager | ||
| Stockholm | ||
| Göteborg | Hämta i butik | |
| Malmö | Hämta i butik | |
Outside in the parking lot, Satan was polishing his windshield. Satan drove a Corvette, obviously. I went outside, kept my distance, eyeballed him wiping dead bugs from his wing mirrors. Clocking me, he struck a rebel pose, one foot up on the bumper, and called out, “I’m not a hippie. I’m lactose intolerant.”
“What?” I said… to Satan, “Are you talking to me?”
“Yes, I’m talking to you. I saw you eyeing up my soy milk and I want to set the record straight. I’m. No. Hippie.”
Fear and Loathing meets South Park in a screwball horror novella. Part romance, part buddy comedy, part body horror, I Saw Satan At The 7–Eleven is a dark-as-night tale from a phenomenal new name in literary fiction.
Two miles north of Hell, a nameless deadbeat narrator spots Satan buying soy milk at the 7–Eleven. Satan's a washed-up has-been, who’s totally lost his edge. That is until he falls in love with our narrator, and the two embark on a debauched misadventure, by turns slapstick, violent, whimsical, dreamlike and tender.
“What?” I said… to Satan, “Are you talking to me?”
“Yes, I’m talking to you. I saw you eyeing up my soy milk and I want to set the record straight. I’m. No. Hippie.”
Fear and Loathing meets South Park in a screwball horror novella. Part romance, part buddy comedy, part body horror, I Saw Satan At The 7–Eleven is a dark-as-night tale from a phenomenal new name in literary fiction.
Two miles north of Hell, a nameless deadbeat narrator spots Satan buying soy milk at the 7–Eleven. Satan's a washed-up has-been, who’s totally lost his edge. That is until he falls in love with our narrator, and the two embark on a debauched misadventure, by turns slapstick, violent, whimsical, dreamlike and tender.