Entry-Level

Entry-Level

Entry-Level, by Bobby Casella

Entry-Level, by Bobby Casella
ISBN: 978-1-60381-058-6 (Paperback)

** Also Available in Kindle version on Amazon and other ebook versions on Smashwords **

“I love how the readers are allowed to experience the character of Robert.  We get to share his views as he narrates the story.  In many ways, it seems he never grew up, yet it is obvious he has the abilities and skills to succeed in life if he puts forth the effort.  He spends more time working to develop schemes to make quick money instead of working hard at the job he has been given.  Even though Robert seems like a lazy and immature low-life, I somehow found him likable and I wanted him to become somebody … Entry-Level will appeal to males between the ages of eighteen and thirty.  They will probably be able to relate to Robert on some level.  There is a great deal of humor throughout the story, especially in Robert’s encounters (both real and imagined) with his mother …. Entry-Level is a fun escape from everyday life.  The unexpected ending will leave the reader rethinking what constitutes being successful.”

—Leslie Granier for Reader Views Read More ….

A “deranged young professional” is hell-bent on making a million bucks because he thinks life without money is not worth living.  Entry-Level is an outrageous and ultimately heart-warming adventure comedy about a young man’s battle with cynicism. Here’s how the novel begins:

I was pinned face-down in a pool of my own blood—in a bank vault. My cell phone lay just a few feet from my mouth, so she could still hear me if I projected my voice. “I just want some peace,” I agonized.

“Can you see the bullet?”

“Yeah, it’s over there in the corner. My skin’s on it.”

“I want you to stand up, honey, and I want you to get the fuck out of that vault. Then I want you to get out of there before the cops come. Do you hear me?”

“I do, Dawn. I really do. But the money, Dawn: it’s sitting right here.”

“Honey, a bullet went through you. You have an exit wound, and you need a doctor.”

“There’s a piece of my skin sitting on the floor. It looks like a strawberry.”

“You’re not thinking, honey…Am I losing you?”

“No…I feel fine. I just want to sit here and look at my money. I want to sit here and look at it a little while longer.”

“Listen to me honey. You’ve got to get out of there. You’ll bleed to death before the cops find you!”

“But I’m fine!” I snapped. I was delirious. I labored over to my back and I sat up. “See, I can put the blood back in.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m scooping the blood back in. I’m putting it back in the hole so I can escape with it.” I was slipping hard. My blood wasn’t really going back in the hole. It was just smearing all over my sweaty PVC suit. Ironic, the PVC suit. I’d suffered through wearing the hot thing throughout this whole ordeal in an effort to avoid leaving behind DNA. But now look. My DNA was a big puddle on the vault floor.

I wanted to tell Dawn how ironic this was—Dawn, the nice sex chat operator. But my mouth just fluttered. It made no sound.

“You there? Hello? Honey? You still there?” On Dawn’s end of the line, there was a frighteningly long silence. I was drifting. But I somehow managed to speak, “I’m still here, Dawn.”

“Listen to me. You have to get it together.”

“I’ll be fine Dawn, I’m with my money.”

“Honey, everybody in the world would want that money, but most of us are too scared to go after it. But not you: you went after it. I just met you, but I can already see that you have real courage. So all you need to do is pick yourself up and walk out of that vault, ALIVE, and a free man!”

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