Category Archives: FICTION

FICTION (1000 WORDS OR MORE)

The Masks at McCarthys

The Masks at McCarthys

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It seemed to me that there was an imprint of a lost me on the inside of a certain, special mask. A me that wasn’t lost and afraid. Could I find the right mask? Maybe it didn’t exist, and maybe there was no me to find at all.more

CAN WE STOP WITH ALL THE HITLER?

CAN WE STOP WITH ALL THE HITLER?

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You have to love the Germans, their national sense of humor at least. One part British stodge, one part French aloofery, they’re unmoved by the banal jokes Americans love. But give them a hulking sexecutioner in black polythene and a Hello Kitty mask, and they’ll yuck it the fuck up.more

DOOM’S DAY

DOOM’S DAY

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I observe my multiscreened supercomputer slave away at its latest task I programmed for it: creating the most authentically erotic images of that flattop super mermaid Richard’s pet seems to adore so much. It is one of civilization’s great mysteries why that gorgeous creature doesn’t disappear from that plastic man’s grasp and be the much-desired queen for that fish man.more

Deerhead

Deerhead

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We all had dead people in our lives. We all had mamas, or somebody anyway, who told us that we would be with them again one day. I thought maybe that’s what funerals are for. So we can all be together believing the dead were all together, somewhere nice.more

A Ridiculous Man: June 1996

A Ridiculous Man: June 1996

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The list always started with Acorn; that was one of the rules. For Linda, an acorn perfectly represented nature: clean lines, so compact. Roger liked how they reminded him of aroused nipples, taught and hard. Irresistible.more

The Continuing Waltz of Obie P. Michaels

The Continuing Waltz of Obie P. Michaels

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The Great Observationist is thinking about how when it comes, the headache will flatten him, but not as much as the dullness. About how the only thing worse than the headache and the dullness is the fear of never feeling anything again. About how withdrawal is an artistic mandate.more

Back Seat Surprise

Back Seat Surprise

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Max didn’t care much for the poke in his heart when he looked at the boy, or the moisture in the corner of his eyes, or the hitch in his breathing, as if inhaling was a disturbance. There were no innocents in Max’s universe, only wolves and what they fed on.more

Good Morning Person

Good Morning Person

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Aside from saying odd catchphrases and singing random song lyrics, Andrew didn’t actually know how to functionally talk or have real conversations, he only said the same things over and over: the doughnut thing, lines from retro movies, choruses from heavy metal songs. It was like he was afflicted by lyrics and puns and corporate taglines.more

CONFESSIONS OF A NARCISSIST AND HER PREY

CONFESSIONS OF A NARCISSIST AND HER PREY

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I was on the verge of cataclysmic change. Supercharged. I sense things. Horse in a storm.more

BULLSHIT YOU CAN TASTE

BULLSHIT YOU CAN TASTE

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Father Manchette took a yardstick across my ass in front of the entire class. Sister Agnes poked my arms until little bubbles of blood popped up from my skin. “The deeds you do may be the only sermon people will hear today.” I repeated those words walking up and down Dorchester Avenue until Jesus unzipped the sky and turned on the lights.more