SHIT, I muttered, and adjusted my ballsack. I’m pretty sure this woman will be the death of me, I thought. She wouldn’t stop talking about her best friend, Karen, from Long Island with a PhD in biology. I vaguely remember her mentioning painting her nails this morning. Bright red. She flashed them in my face. …
Category Archive: Flash
Jul 07
Titanium Hip Concerto in C Major
Late Christmas Eve. A warped Mozart album warbles on the record player as the party guests begin to leave. I notice grandpa slumped under the mistletoe, shitfaced and disheveled, eyeing everyone with cynical amusement. He knocks back another shot of vodka and eggnog, calmly shucks off his sweat wilted t-shirt, then snatches grandma by the …
Mar 17
Loyalty
I’m telling Skiff that I’d never rat him out. After all, we have the same scars in similar places. & I know about the fishmonger heist, which girls work the office without panties, the fall of the Chinese broker, who’s missing fingers. Where the missing fingers are kept. I know that Skiff owns the locks. …
Mar 17
A Valediction
When the bomb went off, Johan felt almost nothing. A bee sting, perhaps, or the sharp shock of a pinched nerve. Suddenly, he was half as tall, the earth as close to him now as it was a decade ago, when he and his friends would play leapfrog and shoot each other with cushioned darts …
Mar 17
Eva
On all of my birthdays, I was reminded that it was the anniversary of Hitler’s suicide. One classless year, my family threw a Hitler-themed birthday party for me – eleven years old. I even got a swastika on my homemade birthday cake (because what decorator would make that?) which I proceeded to chuck at my …
Mar 17
My Friend with Cerebral Palsy
Back in college I had this friend named Larry. We lived on the same street and struck up a fast friendship. Larry had cerebral palsy, so he couldn’t talk or move his arms and legs too well and was in an electric wheelchair. Everyone thought he was retarded. But he wasn’t. In fact, he was …
Feb 01
If I die before I wake, are you gay or straight
I was looking at the back of the world’s ugliest sweater. It’s the kind with the ribbon that goes in and out of the holes in a line of the pattern. You would like it. You think that sort of thing is pretty. We like different things. You like the ornate, I like simple, stripped …
Feb 01
Holiday In Oaxaca
“Una cosa me da risa, Pancho Villa sin camisa.” I lift the flap of scalp, black as liver in the flashlight. I press it back in place. More or less. I stanch jets of blood–throbs of my own shrillness reddened, liquefied by mushrooms in a jungle omelette three days eaten. I press, feel bits of …
Feb 01
Neo-Zine
I have a small PO box in the foyer of my building. Whenever I get something big in the mail, that means I have to walk about a mile to my inner city post office. So, getting snail mail for me is a double edged sword. It makes me happy as fuck, but, I’ve got …
Dec 01
Editor Pants
I bought the pants more for the name than anything else. Lucky they made my ass look good and had enough give in the waist that my middle only bulged if I sat down. Black with silver pinstripes. Tight white button-up on top. I didn’t wear much black anymore, so my choice of shoes was …