He’d kept a full head of hair, barely any gray. Switched from Brylcreem to mousse because Gran bitched about him staining the pillowcases, but that night in his Burning Down the House suit, you could tell from the slickness and pungency he still had a tube of Brylcreem hidden somewhere and was going heavy with it for his big afternoon out.… more
Writer: Anthony Neil Smith
800,042 Little Lights
FICTION by Anthony Neil SmithWhat says “Christmas” more than a blinking, schizo forty-foot tall American flag with elves at the bottom saluting the drivers. Not the flag, no sir, but the drivers. Dead-eyed creepy elf fuckers robotically raising and lowering their hands to their foreheads. Salute!… more
