We’d been cutting weight for weeks, wearing garbage bags in the sauna and running a few miles two or three times a day. I’d already shucked fifteen pounds just to save space for booze, but I started to worry Mikey would be a downer all night. Worst thing about a guy like that—he gets you worried you did something wrong, like all his problems are your fault.… more
Author Archives: BULL Author
An Ordinary Man
FICTION by Paul C SmithEveryone is nice here. They tell me Olivia might be coming any day to visit me. And they say to just relax and look at the garden outside. So I relax like any ordinary man would. I like it here out in the country. There are flowers of all kinds. Some nights I lean out of the window and urinate on the Sea Holly. It keeps growing. I keep waiting. One day a truck will show up, and Olivia might get out of it. … more
Flames
FICTION by Greg RapierI imagine myself trying—searing my hand on the doorknob, kicking in the door, backdraft bursting out at me, fighting through the soot, and excavating the girl standing at the window. And I feel proud of myself. For what I would have done. What I almost do. But, don’t.… more
Bad-Ass Days of the Demons of Ultimate Hell
FICTION by Gabriel WelschThe Demons of Ultimate Hell was our metal band. Our shitty, did-it-for 5-minutes-and-played-one-basement-gig metal band. We were too young to understand cruel but we sure understood stupid.… more
Gunplay
CREATIVE NONFICTION by Damian DressickIf his own brother refused to stand at parade rest in the middle of a replanted forest on the ridge line above a played-out coal mine and let him fire a copper jacket hollow point a few inches from his milk white face, I sure as hell was willing.… more
Gambit
FICTION by Mehreen AhmedHeavens had to fall over, tsunamis had to rise, the rainforest had to awaken, the trees had to walk, and animals had to talk as an opening gambit. Something, anything mythical, extraordinary had to happen to stop this scourge.… more
Sweet Sugary Trauma
FICTION by Santiago Márquez RamosTo the woman, the cookie clearly represented a cookie. It was not a metaphor or simile or allegory. The woman had never thought about cookies having a deeper meaning. But she dug deeper. She settled into her chair. She furrowed her brow. The gears turned and the chains flowed. Eventually, in a somewhat confused voice, she spoke. … more
Little Dude
FICTION by Bob JohnsonShe’s three inches taller than me, but outside appearances don’t mean anything, she says. We’re all butterflies, nestled in our cocoons, waiting for the spring. I’ve been around for sixteen springs, I say, and shit never changes, but she says she’s talking about another kind of spring—that place each of us is meant to be.… more
Seven Mornings, Forgetting, and The National Guard
FICTION by Miles VaranaToday begins, as a lot of them do, with an attempt to reconcile a vague sense of shame with memories of last night. Drunks all over the world are this way, waking up thirsty and trying to figure out if they’ve pissed themselves. Given the opportunity, I’ll revel in self-pity for an hour or two, like a pig rolling around in shit, but today I have work.… more
The Performance Review: A Fable
FICTION by Phoebe Reeves“The Man grimaced, stepped around The Donkey, and yelled at the ceiling. ‘Hey, why am I waiting in line behind a dumb fucking beast that doesn’t know how to do anything–and doesn’t grasp mortality?? Animals don’t understand time–I’m the one with a larger brain–I’m the one with a more wrinkly cortex–I’m the one with a soul!'”… more
