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As an author who blends humor with social critique, I was interested in Jones’ first work of fiction (he has written some 25 works of nonfiction.)
Newly paroled valet Rollo Hemphill is a Los Angeles 20-something who’s simultaneously disgusted and intrigued by the celebrities whose cars he parks at a five-star hotel. In an attempt to inspire jealousy in the girl of his dreams, he creates – and makes headlines with – a life-like inflatable doll personifying an aging but sexy actress who is staying at the hotel.
Instead of backfiring, Rollo’s ploy lands him his dream job, endless cash and booze, and a contract to be arm candy for the actress, Ms. Monica LaMonica, whose breasts are almost as pert as her ego. What follows is a hilarious romp involving silicone and superhero underwear; the cast of characters ranges from a Hungarian bellhop to a celebrity-stalking couple in a Winnebago.
Even though he’s slightly pathetic at first, I found myself rooting for Rollo, who embarks on this adventure in the interest of getting into a beautician’s pants. (Haven’t we all had that urge? Regular pedicures will do wonders for any relationship.)
A hilarious read, My Inflatable Friend is also a clever poke in the eye at celebrity culture, as well as America’s intrigue with the famous and infamous.
Let me warn you in advance, however, that the only guy who sees any action in this book is the partner of the inflatable doll – but it’s not who you think.
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