Everyone seems to have met a version of this type of guy. The guy who has amazing yet hardly believable stories about saucy doings. By “saucy doings,” I pretty much mean drugs, but included in that definition is the possibility of adult babies, nuclear winter, retarded teenagers and disembowelment. If you’re lucky, these stories are told in such a way that you really do wish they’d actually happened.
Such is largely the case with Jeremy Robert Johnson’s collection of short stories, ANGEL DUST APOCALYPSE. Like your favorite drugged teller of meandering anecdotes, Johnson weaves vivid and fascinatingly grotesque tales regarding such things as a group of extreme body modification addicts (one of whom is pretty much made out of vegetables) to a cockroach suit that helps its maker survive WWIII. Only gladly, these stories aren’t sloppy, easily dismissible crap fantasies, but have been given serious treatment and emerge as fantastic and often graphic scenarios full of characters you hate to love.
I can’t say I loved every tale in the collection, but I can say I certainly hate ravers a little less now, and, much like the bizarre world in which Johnson’s characters live, that’s alternately a beautiful and horrifying thing. –Danielle Wegelin