I need a new bum! Mine's got a crack. I can see in the mirror a crack in the back. What to do when you need a new bum? Should you get one that's blue or yellow spotted? A Chevy bum, a rocket bum that's all fire and thrust, or a robo-bum? The options are endless - but wait, Dad's bum crack is showing too? Maybe this is contagious.

Sex, drugs, and insatiable bottoms. Who doesn't love a good bottom boy? The men in these stories are better than good...they're totally insatiable, they simply can't get enough of what keeps them happy. Whether it's the guy who misses his stop on the last train of the night and ends up with three hunky workman repairing the tracks, a bottom who falls, literally, at the feet of three hot workers putting in a speed hump outside his door, a sex shop worker who goes to the aid of his favorite porn star bottom, a straight boy who bets his ass on a sure thing in a card game, a top man who finds his real calling at a private sex club, or the lead singer in a Korean boy band, these boys give new meaning to Entry at the Rear. Excerpt: I'm such a fuckwit. How else would you explain my predicament? The facts speak for themselves; it's two o'clock in the morning, it's the middle of winter, and I'm pissed off my brain - at least I think I'm pissed because it could be drugs - wearing nothing but a T-shirt, and jeans, with bare feet. I lost my sneakers somewhere during the night. Where am I? Your guess is as good as mine. Godknowswhereville, attempting to hitch a ride outa here. The whole thing is my own fault. There, I freely admit it. Are you laughing yet? Why are gay men so fuckin' boring? They'd rather sit around discussing the latest Lady Gaga clip or gay rights for Antarctic penguins than get down to the nitty gritty. Where are the real men? Gay guys who like it rough and ready at the click of their fingers, who want nothing better than to ram a moderately hot just-past-twink-years bottom like me? I spent the night bored off my brain at a gay pub where a group of gay swingers thought they were on to a good thing by inviting me on a date. Better that they had just thrown me on the ground and had their way with me. A fuckin' date! Do I look like someone who wants to go on a date? Fuck me. My filthy mouth always gets me into trouble. I'm too direct. There, I managed to restrain myself. I was gonna put the F word before at least three or four more of those words in those couple of sentences but I've learned too much of a foul mouth and you sound like one of those wussy porn movies where the actors sprout bad dialogue while looking as bored as I'd felt all fuckin' night. After the pub almost sent me catatonic I headed to a disco where the music almost burst my ear drums and the only action in the Men's was of the snorting or injecting kind and I don't mean injecting in my ass. Somewhere between when I'd paid to go into the disco and leaving the leather den, I lost my wallet - or else it'd been lifted by some skanky fag - and I no longer had taxi fare home. Proof enough that I must have been in a bad way, it took me some time to realize I'd left my shoes inside the leather den but when I went back the door was closed and no amount of banging got me an answer. Plus for the first fuckin' time in living memory the weather bureau got it right and the cold front had moved in: a bitterly cold wind that froze my balls off. Only thing in its favor was it made my nipples hard as icicles. Problem was, no one was sucking. My lack of mates, the sort who'd allow me to sleep on their living room floor let alone share their bed, sank any chance of a warm place to kip. I guess I must have looked the worse for wear because guys were giving me a wide berth as I walked up the street. In frustration, I shouted at one pissy bunch who giggled like high school girls at the fact I had no shoes. "Have I got two fuckin' heads or something?" No cash for a cab meant sleeping in a park or a shop doorway for the night. I glanced up at the clock on top of the gay pub on the corner. Shit! If I hurried, I might just make the subway. Last train was due to leave in about fifteen minutes. I'd have to jump the turnstiles but that wouldn't be the first time.

You know what? What? Chicken butt! The classic schoolyard joke has been recast as an irreverent picture book, with call-and-response parts for parent and child. The word repetition in Erica S. Perl’s text, and wonderfully comic illustrations by beloved artist Henry Cole, make this a particularly inviting book for new readers, as does the opportunity to “trick†? a parent or other adult into participating in a very silly joke. The humor builds to a surprising and satisfying conclusion. Warning: Kids will want to read this one over and over and over again! “An unhinged piece of slap-happy rhyming...rocket-propelled artwork...the romp is a powerful piece of cacophony, more frenetic by the moment.†?—Kirkus Reviews

Tall butts, short butts, round butts, flat butts. Butts on mummies and butts on mommies. Butts on giraffes and elephants and dogs and... FISH? Yes, even fish butts are celebrated in this tribute to backsides, rumps, tushies, keisters, heinies, and derrieres. Dozens of funny rhymes and pages of laugh-out-loud pictures pay homage to a body part that keeps kids and grown-ups giggling with glee. Bottoms up!

A young boy embarks on an epic journey across the land to reclaim his runaway butt in this hilarious beginning to a bestselling trilogy. Zack Freeman is ready to tell his story . . . the story of a brave young boy and his crazy runaway butt. The story of a crack butt-fighting unit called the B-team, a legendary Butt Hunter’s formidable daughter, and some of the ugliest and meanest butts ever to roam the face of the Earth. A story of endurance that takes Zack on an epic journey across the Great Windy Desert, through the Brown Forest, and over the Sea of Butts before descending into the heart of an explosive buttcano to confront the biggest, ugliest, and meanest butt of them all! Praise for The Day My Butt Went Psycho “Griffith’s fun gross-out adventure novel follows Zack Freeman, who awakens to see his rear end leaping out the window to lead a bum rally . . . Young readers will likely get a kick out of it all (there’s even a glossary included).” —Publishers Weekly

The inventive young hero from the bestselling I Need a New Butt! is back and this time he has accidentally glued a serving tray to his behind — and it's great for sliding down hills, surfing big waves, and other booty-full fun. Now all his friends want one too!

We just can’t get enough of the funny stuff kids say. We share our own children’s gems with friends and family. If we’re smart, we write down these scraps of accidental poetry. And we turn them into books. Martin Bruckner is an artist and father who not only recorded the sayings of his daughter, Harper, but used each as the inspiration for a work of art. After posting them on social media, Bruckner became the artist that other parents sought out to transform their own children’s funny words into artwork. Collected here are 100 mini-posters of pure delight, a marriage of the children’s surprising wisdom and the artist’s nimble style, plus the occasional backstory that amplifies both. Every parent will recognize the spirited declarations of personality—“I’m training to be a wolf.” The endearing mangling of language—“Mommy, I don’t need your mouth to talk to me right now.” The creative mixing of metaphors—“I need a tissue to wipe my feelings.” Those precious, heartbreaking outbursts without guile or filters—“I only love you at the toy store.” Illustrated with sweetness and whimsy, each is a window into the irresistible innocence of childhood, even if the sentiment is “Dad, please wipe the bum of this beautiful princess.”