Bronco Bill no longer felt the need to mount a bull just to feel the hands of other men on his body while he braced himself in the chute. His whole life the only way he could get close enough to other men was to prepare for violence.… Continue Reading
Last time, he ate the goldfish in the psychiatrist’s office, but he sensed this was a bit tame, bordering on someone acting like they were having a breakdown rather than actually in the midst of one. Everyone had their own opinions of madness these days, it was like some bizarre performance review where you had to prove your insanity hadn’t slipped.… Continue Reading
As the waves pushed out all the thoughts from his mind, an image like a dark and starry night started to take hold for him. Deep inside his concentration, an image came to him. One he hadn’t expected. “Mr. Whiskers?”… Continue Reading
I wonder how long it’ll take for ’em to come on over the hill. I’ve got good cover. I can hold out a while. My hands are shaking. Not from fear, but from what I’ve got running through me. I never thought a night out would lead to me ending up here. She had every right to do what she did. I didn’t. They’re gonna find that out.… Continue Reading
People all over the world have been visibly satisfied for decades. Benito Mussolini was visibly satisfied. A lot of dictators are visibly satisfied, mostly with themselves, right up until they get strung up on lampposts, or shot in the head, or whatever.… Continue Reading
The sleeping bag had writhed, a kissing thing, a succubus, mad like a salted eel. I’d seen that. For days now I’d seen it and let it happen. Too scared to scream. What a stupid terror, I hold in me, shrinked cold and half-gone. Tonight it dines.… Continue Reading
My sister who is not my real sister is the first to understand that the spirit, who has disappeared, was a trickster. My sister is melting from scalp to toes. I tell my sister: everything will be ok. We are symbolically in tune.… Continue Reading
He sat on the curb, the gash in his cheek stinging and pulsating. Blood trickled down his face into the scruffy grey beard along his jaw. His head still spinning, unsure sure if it was from the punch that had laid him out or all the Jim Beam. He watched his breath as he exhaled, looked up and noticed the stars shining brightly. He felt small in that moment. Alone, yet not as alone as usual.… Continue Reading
Before Rhonda gave me dirty, funky love I had a cult of chia pets, I baked peanut brittle, and I sang in the falsetto register. But Rhonda took me below the stands and tweaked my nipples, poured Old Crow in my mouth, and dry-humped me senseless, while the marching band farted “Purple Rain.”… Continue Reading
She tells me I’m sweet. My ex used to call me sweet when she wanted something. There are two things I can’t stand. Shoveling snow and being called sweet. I hate the last one more, but it’s not so bad in this weather. And it’s not so bad when the right woman says it and all you did was get her a bottle of water.… Continue Reading