Review of “The Legend of Jake Howell” by Angry Old Man Reviews

Monday, July 15, 2019

The Legend of Jake Howell by Charles Reap Jr.

This is a charming story about a young boy in 1805 who discovers gold on his family’s land. And lo and behold, all of his problems are not solved! It reminded me of something I read about people who win the lottery. Apparently, more often than not they end up worse off than they were before. You know what I think about that? Bullshit! Show me the money, and I will prove that all wrong! If any of you people want to give me $62 million, I promise you that if I can not find a way to make myself happier than I am now, you will never hear from me again. You know what the problem with these lottery winners is? They’re too young! If people my age won the lottery, we wouldn’t possibly have enough time to screw up our lives the way young winners manage to do.

First things first – as soon as I become a millionaire, I am going to buy the Vlasic pickle company. Not because I want to own it or get free pickles or anything like that – I am going to shut that shit down! No more terrible pickles for America. Honestly, I get more crunch from the month-old celery in my fridge. Which reminds me, why the hell do I still buy celery? And all those sweet pickles? Truly an abomination. We are going to have a ritual destruction of all of them, like they did with all those disco records at baseball stadiums in the late 70s. That’s right folks – Americans made musical bonfires because they thought songs like the ‘Safety Dance’ were the way of the future. And we wonder why the Taliban hates us.

After the great pickle cleanse, I will take my family on a tropical vacation. Not as a favor, really, but more as an act of revenge. After all those vacations where I had to play along and do what everyone else wanted, this vacation will be on my terms. None of the ‘local flavor’ nonsense my son-in-law is always going on about. Each day we will have a mandatory mah jongg tournament, and I don’t give a shit if we happen to be in Tahiti – dinner is at an Italian restaurant and everyone gets fettuccini alfredo. Deal with it, Gerry.

Now don’t get me wrong. I will perform many acts of random generosity – as many as it takes to assuage my guilt at being so rich. So there, I’m already more ethical than half the members of Congress. I may also swim in my money like Scrooge McDuck, but that’s my business, so stop judging.

“The Legend of Jake Howell”

Sunday, July 14, 2019

Book release: The legend of Jake Howell by Charles A Reap Jnr. One of the world’s richest and most admired men.

BIO & PERSONAL INFORMATION: Retired dentist. Published: Two textbooks, adjunct dental lecturer. Two novels, two e-books, plus an award-winning illustrated e-book for children. “” ( Former newspaper staff writer and columnist. Stage/screen actor/scriptwriter.

BOOK SYNOPSIS: When he picked up that shiny stone from the small stream, nine-year-old Jake Howell would not have believed that it would trigger America’s first gold rush and that he would become one of the world’s richest and most admired men.


March, 1803 Jake and his dog, Frisky, had been out on the hunt for nearly four hours, but it had been a frustrating day for the stocky nine-year-old. Much hard labor on his father’s farm had already finely tuned his muscles. Earlier that morning Jake had roamed cautiously through the snow-covered forest, where he had checked each of his rabbit traps and found nothing. He was disappointed that he had shot only three squirrels. Although the weight of his father William’s Kentucky long rifle tested Jake’s muscles, his father had been a stern taskmaster. “Now Jake,” he had said, “Brace against a tree or rock, aim real careful like, take a deep breath, then shoot. Be sure you squeeze the trigger slow.” Jake had often been reminded to handle his father’s inherited rifle with extreme care, because the cost to buy a new one would have been well beyond William’s financial ability. Usually Jake was an accurate marksman, but this just wasn’t his day. There was a stiff wind blowing from

The southwest. He was happy that at least the sun was out, with only an occasional wisp of cloud overhead. Much of last week’s snow was melting and exposing rich moist earth. Perhaps his missing five other squirrels this day was caused by his pique and frustration. He was somewhat angry that his father had sent him into the forest to “bring home some meat.”

“Why didn’t pa come out here himself,” Jake said to Frisky. “Seems to me I could have tended to chopping that firewood instead of him doing it.” Frisky flicked his ears and chased off after a hawk that he had spotted circling closely over a dead field mouse. Jake knew that if he didn’t bring home at least a few rabbits, squirrels or perhaps a small deer, it would mean more biscuits and molasses for tonight’s supper as well as the next day’s meals. Jake thought to himself, I’m tired of molasses and biscuits. Although he felt like his mother was a good cook, he’d had the same boring meals two straight days. They’d eaten the last bit of chicken day before yesterday, and his pa had decreed that no more chickens could be killed until the biddies had grown to full size. Maybe if he caught enough today, he could stay around the house and play with Frisky without all the grown-up pressure of having to go out and try to find meat for the family.