Avoid Algorithms… Anything but Warhol’s soup can. Your can! A can I’ve never seen before.… Continue Reading
Apparently, lack of empathy is the one psychological trait shared by all elite warriors, all special forces guys, Max included. It’s that singular trait that allows them to kill without hesitation or remorse. Or, in the case of Max’s current job, the trait that allows him to acquire struggling companies with the sole goal of leveraging their value before gutting them and selling assets piecemeal.… Continue Reading
I saw my barber at the post office and we got into a fist fight. I saw my dentist at the grocery store and we got into a fist fight. I saw my plumber at the mall and we got into a fist fight. I don’t want this to keep happening but it keeps happening.… Continue Reading
They had all mellowed out, sitting there slumped over, eyes closed, half asleep when another car came up the avenue. This one stopped with a skid and a screech. No one noticed the color, make or model. It was dark, could have been black, blue, or even red. All they saw was the front passenger side window go down, and then Alton yelled, “Oh shit, gun!”… Continue Reading
Ultimately it was all thanks to her farting, and more specifically to the foghorn-like sound into which, echoing about inside the toilet bowl, its original sound was transformed, that no matter how foggy the weather no ship ever crashed into the bathroom.… Continue Reading
Stripe-tailed with downy head plumage, amphibian up to ankles—truncated by Reorganized Latter Day Saint knicker flannel, she claw-writes ambidextrous each time the thunder comes. They published her without knowledge—just the way she prefers.… Continue Reading
Mr. Davis hadn’t known that a penis could fracture, yet when the young lady in scrubs with the ultrasound machine pressed the tip of the probe into the crooked purple eggplant between his legs and declared “Yup, it’s fractured,” he knew his life would never be the same.… Continue Reading
I wondered if I was the first monk to sneak out to strip clubs. I mean, no one was perfect. Every monk had their thing. Harry always took two desserts instead of one. Miles slept through his pancake shift on the weekend. Phil took like eight paper towels when he dried his hands in the bathroom. But the first monk to sneak off to strip clubs?… Continue Reading
By the time I was facing her, she was facing me. She saw it. Eddie saw it. Hell, even the DJ saw it. My expression reflected my shock. I stood there before her, before them all, my hand down my pants. I couldn’t believe it. In shock. In the apocalypse. I couldn’t believe what she did next either.… Continue Reading
You could feel it in the air, like the smell of ash. I’d sat down next to Coach and asked him what piece I was. He didn’t even hesitate, or ask what I was talking about.… Continue Reading