Everyone calls him Pigsnort. One word, not two. Almost like a real name. You struggle to remember his actual name, or question if you ever knew it. If every village has an idiot, then every school has a Pigsnort.… more
Everyone calls him Pigsnort. One word, not two. Almost like a real name. You struggle to remember his actual name, or question if you ever knew it. If every village has an idiot, then every school has a Pigsnort.… more
I tell myself he’s okay—until I catch him out there in the withering dusk, spraying the hose into the air like warning shots. Keep back, he shouts. Keep back from my tomatoes.… more
There is so little time to teach you about the wild. I still have to show you how to grin, for the world. How to make it obey, how to remove it from its axis and bounce it the July street. Slap it, balance it, make it only spin for you.… more
Before the placenta was fried with two brown eggs. Before Mom deemed us, “Perfect Gentlemen.” Before Ms. Ann sewed two black suits down the middle for us. Before we wore that suit to Ms. Ann’s funeral. Before we were too small, too slight to be pallbearers on Hudson Ave.… more
There’s something about the guy from Barstool Sports eating pizza that just commands Bradley’s attention, waiting to see if some random pizza shop owner in Connecticut is going to suddenly double their sales. Bradley likes the idea of someone’s life changing in an instant.… more
‘cause I’m thinking I got the Ray Liottas like from Goodfellas when he’s coked to the eyeballs, he’s truly fucked up, knowing shit’s gonna hit now he’s under the eyes of the feds, and the buzzing, buzzing in my ears is the hover ‘copter tracking my moves inch for inch.… more
My momma always told me, “Son,”—that’s how I knew she was talkin’ to me. She’d say, “Son, you ain’t no good.” No sugar, no salt—but somehow almost sweet as warm honey apple pie, fresh from the oven. “Now, it ain’t your fault. See, your daddy was no good either.”… more
The goddamn football stadium and the streets are filled with ads and flags supporting future brain damage survivors and NFL flunkies. Never mind the fact all that brain injury makes them into sad, violent, adult children. That doesn’t matter. What does matter?… more
“Buck up, Slim” was his catchphrase. It was the kind of catchphrase that stuck. The kind that gets hung on you like a life sentence in a show that started in black and white and went technicolor in season 2.… more
Life is a fucking roo and you’ve got to punch it in the dick before it knocks you out.… more