A Secret Is Told

Author’s Note: As promised, I am now publishing for the very first time the very first book I ever writ, wrotten, wrote. I was probably 7 at the time. It begins with the stylish stylings of a left over piece of wall paper found God knows where that serves as it’s timeless cover. But why am I defending myself? Art needs no explanation.



The saga begins...


Yes. I am revealing my real name- again in the name of art. Keep it to yourselves AND DON’T TEASE ME ABOUT IT, GODDAMN IT!!!


Whatever could be happening? What is this ‘Misery’ that our hero speaks of? He’s only 7 (judging by the looks of the young lad). Nothing could be that bad, could it?


Ha! The classic Wayne humor is already presenting itself! I spelled ‘righting’ when I meant ‘writing’! What a clever little guy- and at such a tender age! So funny! So precious! So stoopid!


Uh-oh! Something’s afoot! What could it be? What’s that on his head? What’s that he’s standing next to? A throne?


Oh! Ha ha! What a shit head! You should never sleep in a house with an un-flushed toilet. What a maroon!


Oh dear! I don’t like the look of this one bit! It seems to be a stoned child with large boy nipples shaking his ‘booty’! No good can come of this!


Never sleepwalk while wearing pants. This is just good sense. I feel no sympathy for this fool whatsoever.


I’m a bit disturbed that this clod managed to do his biz through his underwear. Also he spells ‘oops’ with an extra ‘o’. This kid should be put away.


This jackass is missing more that the ‘toylet’. Also, you’ll notice that so-called ‘toylet’ is not drawn as neatly as the previous one. I suspect schizophrenia.

This looks dangerous. What is he doing now? Is that electrical wire? Is he transforming into a super hero by drawing a circle around his body? Oh! The suspense!


I’m telling you. I’m gonna kick this kid’s ass. WTF? Jumping your rope in the house? Over six feet tall? He’s no super hero. He’s a super dumb ass. Jumping Jesus!


Now this looks promising. It seems our bald ‘hero’ has either met his match or is eagerly awaiting the advance of a rent boy. Watch out for the rent boy’s shoes! They’re like claws! Ahhhhhhhhhh!


Well, at least somebody managed to put that bald bastard in his place. (Also note: His so called little brother looks a bit like a giant with a fucked up nose. Baldy never stood a chance.)


Seems there’s a bit of a domestic situation occurring here. What could it be? Let’s hope it’s a grisly murder or shocking suicide.


For fuck’s sake! Playing house? This kid is such a crybaby. I haven’t seen anything that remotely resembles misery. He’s such a whiner. Oh wait! There’s a couple of pages left. Fingers crossed!

Who knows what this is about. I’m not hopeful. It’s probably lame.


Oooh! Baby fat. Right. I hope this is almost over…


What dramatic conclusion is coming now? Please let this torture be over!


Huh! Two brothers! Well, yes…I can see why our hero is a bit ‘off his trolley’.

Let’s never speak of this again. (And why have I been obsessed with ‘doody’ my entire life. This frightens me.)



  1. The cover art is great – one would never suspect it is a tale of feces and two (one) brother(s(?))…

    I already knew the secret of the first name – but loved the story of course.

  2. I thought your first name was Marion. As in Marion Morrison.
    That story is absolutely brilliant!
    The character development showed a sesitivity and understanding of the human condition far beyond your age. The artistry in the use of the language showed a unique angst usually only found in the Derida deconstructionists school. The artwork adorning the prose follows the minamalist infulences of a life spent running naked in Colorado. I’m sure the NY Times book review will be calling you soon.

  3. No way. You definitely knocked that up in work while feeling low over the last few months! And if it’s real, the challenge is now to fake a sequel!

  4. Phil- yes the cover art is quite misleading. In that it is wallpaper. Garish wallpaper.

    Brianf- I’m afraid you’re reading a bit much into this saga. It’s really about meeting a deadline and producing something, ANYTHING to get the teacher off my back.

    Alan- It’s real. Sadly, I don’t think I could fake a sequel. My drawing and handwriting skillz peaked with this creation.

  5. Ah Wayne. This is great! You have inspired me to share my early creations as well. I too peaked by the third grade having been awarded a ribbon at the county fair for my book of Haiku poetry, complete with watercolor paintings. I have never been able to repeat my success. Yet, the ribbon remains faintly smelling of cow poo and cotton candy.

  6. Yeah…early creations. I was torn on exposing this to the light of day but I’m glad it’s inspiring so I’ll look for more.

    (I’m still looking for the infamous “Kangaroo Rape” column I wrote about 10 years ago which got me banned from ever writing another column for my hometown paper. It was only the second column I wrote for the publication.
    The first column about high school reunions being dumn got me put on probation. Then two people sent in hate letters. Written in crayon. Same handwriting. But different crayon colors.)

  7. Wayne – will you draw me a new pair of shoes?
    Words cannot express how cool this is/was/is/whatever.

  8. I’ll never look at you in the same light again.

  9. Rev- I only had the one pair in my to draw. Maybe I sketch out a kicky pair of slingbacks for ya.

    Jett- is that a good thing or a bad thing?

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