Because my regular toothpaste tastes like black licorice, brushing my teeth every night brings back childhood memories of me sitting with my grandfather in his den, he in the La-Z-Boy, I on the couch with a handful of black licorice jellybeans. The reason I can have this recall of memory, that is, the reason my… Continue Reading
They woke up to a puddle on the kitchen floor. The seal on the freezer door broke. Since they weren’t allowing people in the house, they couldn’t call a professional. But he assured her he could fix it on his own. It was a matter of pride. First, he emptied the contents of the freezer.… Continue Reading
Rooster tipped back his slouch hat and chomped down on the American Spirit between his beak. It was a hot one down in San Miguel, a lot like the year he slummed in the cockfighting dens of Pamplona. It ruffled his feathers, gave him some character. Not like now. Some birds won’t scratch around until… Continue Reading
Gary stands by the side of the road that killed his wife. At least, he can imagine this is the road. Rickety tuk-tuks leave contrails of greasy exhaust. Mopeds bear down, brushing close, deliberate acts of disregard. Students. They ride in sandals or even bare feet, helmetless, alongside cars, trucks, and tuk-tuks, all competing to… Continue Reading
As the sun rises, the rays brush Mickey’s neck and reveal a raw impression left by the belt. A premature scar, fighting for life. The skin has the texture of used chewing gum stretched to the point of tearing. Bronson hopes it will fade soon, so he can stop looking at it, so Mickey will… Continue Reading
The stack of lumber behind my feet in the batter’s box let Coach Connor know that I stepped away when I should have leaned into the swing. That I was scared of the ball. Collapsed two-by-fours meant three laps or twenty push-ups, red grit dusting my lips and teeth as I hustled around the baseball… Continue Reading
The World’s Best Barbershop has a sign in the window with a number below the words Call Flame, and when you call Flame says he’ll be there in ten or fifteen minutes and eight minutes later rolls up in a ten-year-old Cadillac, tinted windows a quarter-rolled down so you can see his dry cleaning hanging… Continue Reading
A Man’s Life as Wet Dog Story There is nothing more lied about than a man’s life, because there are usually at least two groups of people lying: the man’s kingdom and those loyal to the man himself. A man goes to war and fights for his country, comes back to an indifferent horde of… Continue Reading
And everything stays fine for a while. During this time life smells pretty fragrant to me even if the basic facts that comprise it haven’t really changed. … Continue Reading
“I’ll take the I Love You Today,” I say. I take out a crumbled five dollar bill and hand it to her.… Continue Reading