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Portal Maintenance: Posted
Look, if you are looking for a serious, grimdark fantasy about a "Chosen One" fulfilling an ancient prophecy, I am not your author. But if you need a good laugh, interdimensional tax evasion, and weaponized 1970s upholstery? Pull up a chair.
PORTAL POSTED
Look, if you think building an interdimensional gray-market empire is the hard part, you’re wrong. The hard part is figuring out how to scale it without the federal government seizing your front yard under eminent domain.
I’m Joseph. Last month, I was a bankrupt systems engineer trying to fix a broken tractor. Today, I’m the CEO of a Delaware LLC that secretly funds imaginary Florida polar bears just to launder sacks of 14th-century pirate silver through my local hardware store.
My house in BFE Alabama is currently shared by three gorgeous, immortal apex-predator women who view terrestrial traffic laws as mild, highly insulting suggestions. Lexi is still slinging atrocious thrift-store couches. Veronica, a terrifyingly elegant diplomat, is claiming the first prototype of my newest interdimensional plumbing.
The complication? We lost our Chief Financial Officer when the feds temporarily locked us in a Mississippi black site. She ruthlessly liquidated our tobacco inventory at a 400% panic markup and took a better job. Good for her.
Her replacement is Laurel. She’s Veronica’s centuries-old grandmother, a bureaucratic warlord who treats accounting like a martial art. She’s actively auditing my shop, my life, and my ego to prepare for the impending arrival of a highly classified VIP.
But I’m adapting. I’ve started flipping medieval alchemical stamina potions to desperate Alabama pickup-truck drivers at a staggering markup. My ego is practically generating its own gravitational field right now—which is fantastic, because the women in my house still biologically feed on the kinetic output of male hubris.
And business is booming.
The kicker? I’m not the only Earthling with a portal anymore. A rival operator in Los Angeles just flooded our alien luxury market. If I fight back with industrial volume, the feds watching my driveway will declare my farm a commercial hub and confiscate my estate by nightfall.
I don't need a sword to win this war. I need a Dremel tool, aggressive branding, and a whole lot of plausible deniability.
Welcome back to Beutaw. Trespassers will be administratively dismantled.
PORTAL POSTED
Look, if you think building an interdimensional gray-market empire is the hard part, you’re wrong. The hard part is figuring out how to scale it without the federal government seizing your front yard under eminent domain.
I’m Joseph. Last month, I was a bankrupt systems engineer trying to fix a broken tractor. Today, I’m the CEO of a Delaware LLC that secretly funds imaginary Florida polar bears just to launder sacks of 14th-century pirate silver through my local hardware store.
My house in BFE Alabama is currently shared by three gorgeous, immortal apex-predator women who view terrestrial traffic laws as mild, highly insulting suggestions. Lexi is still slinging atrocious thrift-store couches. Veronica, a terrifyingly elegant diplomat, is claiming the first prototype of my newest interdimensional plumbing.
The complication? We lost our Chief Financial Officer when the feds temporarily locked us in a Mississippi black site. She ruthlessly liquidated our tobacco inventory at a 400% panic markup and took a better job. Good for her.
Her replacement is Laurel. She’s Veronica’s centuries-old grandmother, a bureaucratic warlord who treats accounting like a martial art. She’s actively auditing my shop, my life, and my ego to prepare for the impending arrival of a highly classified VIP.
But I’m adapting. I’ve started flipping medieval alchemical stamina potions to desperate Alabama pickup-truck drivers at a staggering markup. My ego is practically generating its own gravitational field right now—which is fantastic, because the women in my house still biologically feed on the kinetic output of male hubris.
And business is booming.
The kicker? I’m not the only Earthling with a portal anymore. A rival operator in Los Angeles just flooded our alien luxury market. If I fight back with industrial volume, the feds watching my driveway will declare my farm a commercial hub and confiscate my estate by nightfall.
I don't need a sword to win this war. I need a Dremel tool, aggressive branding, and a whole lot of plausible deniability.
Welcome back to Beutaw. Trespassers will be administratively dismantled.
329 pages, Kindle Edition
Published May 7, 2026
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
June 16, 2026
Book two
I wanted to rate this higher but I can't. Let me tell you why,
1) There was another repeated chapter.
2) he is getting zero payment from all the females.
3) they are feeding on him. Yes he is getting sexual release, but they are feeding on him.
4) no children, no legacy, nobody to protect the property or the portal if he dies
5) so even though they have helped him set up a couple of businesses he has no family or safety net because none of them can carry a child for him.
4/10 basically it is plot problems that I thought of while reading this book.
I wanted to rate this higher but I can't. Let me tell you why,
1) There was another repeated chapter.
2) he is getting zero payment from all the females.
3) they are feeding on him. Yes he is getting sexual release, but they are feeding on him.
4) no children, no legacy, nobody to protect the property or the portal if he dies
5) so even though they have helped him set up a couple of businesses he has no family or safety net because none of them can carry a child for him.
4/10 basically it is plot problems that I thought of while reading this book.
August 3, 2026
If you have not started this series, it sounds like a problem any engineer can solve. If you're like Joseph then you have several century old helpers of questionable adherence to mundane laws, and enthusiastic mercantile solutions.
Read at your own risk. Beware nudity and sharp teeth, but only Mardi Gras beads were harmed in the making of this story.
And a few shower heads.
Read at your own risk. Beware nudity and sharp teeth, but only Mardi Gras beads were harmed in the making of this story.
And a few shower heads.
August 9, 2026
Read it...
Kinda crazy...but a fun nonsensical read...easy to read... Some what predictable... If you just what to zone out and relax, this is for you...just sit back and enjoy...
Kinda crazy...but a fun nonsensical read...easy to read... Some what predictable... If you just what to zone out and relax, this is for you...just sit back and enjoy...
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews