Sometime around the year 2002 or 2003 I wrote a novella called THE BAD CZECH. The narrative of that novella is a proper Möbius strip. Then I wrote two more novellas, THE BOMB COLLECTOR and JESUS IN VEGAS. They form a postmodern (I’m not ashamed of the word) trilogy that I’ve collected in one book called
….Ricky Lang can remember quite clearly the moment he became a god, if not God (it would be arrogant, and embarrassingly human, to ignore the categorical distinction between the two on the off chance he was the former). That was the moment he turned Benny LaFountaine into an abstraction, releasing Benny’s soul to merge with the greater substance of All Ideas. All Ricky had to do was touch Benny just so, exactly there, and he did. Benny’s material boiled up and away as light, a rosy light, the sign of Benny’s gratitude after being trapped in that mongrel body for all the misery of his years. Rosy light as soft and quick as a terminal sigh on a temperate day. It filled the room and gathered in a sentient mass against the time-browned acoustical foam tiles of the ceiling, roiled by the ceiling fan. It finally fled when Ricky opened the front window overlooking the sinister concrete geometry of the spiral stairs connecting the front door all the way down to the curb, where Benny’s orphaned Cougar was parked, motor running. Ricky would have to act quickly….