The only way I can eat cake is with a bruise on my forehead and my ponytail in his hand.… more
The only way I can eat cake is with a bruise on my forehead and my ponytail in his hand.… more
Around 1:26 a.m., the car—along with my medium Carnivore’s Delite—evaporated. Along that stretch, at this time of night, something marginally catastrophic may have happened, and I don’t want to get into a whole big thing here, but this should, ideally, be concerning.… more
He’s naked and she’s dead and he has more to say to her in that shower than he ever does to me.… more
You’re either supposed to be a star or a star-fucker. Your mother will settle for a star-fucker.… more
The cop placed the dead body in the holding cell and read the dead body its rights. When the commissioner arrived at noon, hungover and short-tempered, an under the weather veteran, he saw the dead body and nodded.… more
We were in our penultimate days then—that stage where we were still in marital counselling with the social worker with the hooker boots and every one of my failings was a metaphor for something sinister.… more
When I roll in to drive, Dad Bluetooth’s AC/DC or Metallica—some 90s stuff— on the soundsystem, crazy loud. We have to shout over it while he tells me how to switch gears; I pretend like I don’t know how while he pretends not to notice me pretending. … more
In the twilight years, familiar lights grow dim. But are there others that might also flicker on?… more
This is what it felt like to be the first person whose sword is cracked in two by a metal slug, announcing the first hail of gunfire that demeans your fellow conquerors into an Oh-those-poor-bastards of a footnote.… more