You know that crap about “If you love something, set it free”?

 

Yeah. Bullshit.

 

My philosophy? If you love her, corner her and drown her in so much charm she forgets why she was mad at you in the first place.

That was my foolproof plan, anyway. Me, Danny Drunk, bringing the fool part—as per usual—and Murphy’s Law of Epic Fuck-Ups handling the rest.

 

Which, I suppose, is how my plan to win back the beautiful but bullheaded Inspector Frankie Cruz went from fuck yeah to yeah… fuck in the span of one romantic beachside gesture.

 

You know, it seemed simple enough. So how it spiraled into a category-five shitnado that climaxed with me shouting homicidal promises in front of what felt like the entire population of Paradise Isle is beyond me.

 

Definitely not my finest moment.

 

But what came next? Oh… that was a whole new level of clusterfuck.

 

By the next morning, I was public enemy number dumb in a crime so juicy the island gossip line was practically melting. Next thing I know, I’m staring across a metal table at Frankie. Suddenly, I’m the most notorious criminal on the island, framed for something that earns you a one-way ticket to a concrete box with a toilet that’s seen things.

 

Horrible, germy things.

 

So now it falls to me, my legally blind boss, and my fossil-fueled backup squad to figure out who’s playing this dirty game of extortion.

Some asshole thought they could make me their stooge. Well, I’ve got news for them. They’re about to find out they messed with the wrong Drunk.

 

Once again, my buddy Al and I are back for another Caribbean-flavored misadventure. More action, more adventure, more profanity, more ass-kicking.

 

Now, as usual, I’m not the type of guy to tell you what to do or how to do it. I will tell you that while this story can stand on its own two feet, it’ll make a whole lot more sense if you start the series from the beginning. But you do you, bro.

 

Drunk Gets Wild is rated R for chaos, cursing, and clusterfucks.

Rated A+ for entertainment value.