The toddler hangs straight-legged from his arm cradle while he bangs with the side of his fist on the plate glass of the storm door that he had to re-install because her husband knew nothing more on how to do anything but sit on his ass and have somebody else do it. When she comes …
Tag: short story
Happy Hour
From the sidewalk, T.S. Bar gave a vibrant aura. Open casement windows let out the speaker cringes of jukebox anthems, while bar chatter and laughter and shrieks of greetings mingled with the clink and crash of empty bottles into trash cans. The chalk board sign by the door read in colorful, loopy letters; ‘Jack & …
Just Another Day at the Office
She loved him. I like to think that’s why she left me. They had known each other before me. In a time in their lives when she was ready and he was not. I came along later. After what moments of fumbling lust and displaced emotions had expired, she escaped me and waited for him. …
GOODBYES
GOODBYE DICK His birthday gift to her, a set of full tang stainless steel kitchen knives, lay strewn about on the counter. He lay on the floor, his penis in her left hand. A peculiar thing, she thought. It can grow and squirm like such an altogether separate entity of the body. Its ability to …
Dreams of Kendall Falling
I kept a pet-name for Kendall Falling in my mind; The Wide-Eyed Girl. Eyes that glistened and bounced around like bold, brown pinballs. Those eyes searched over the cityscape and all therein; the passing motor cars and trucks, the glass and mortar towers, the walks and don’t walks, the hosed-over early morning sidewalks, the bodies …
The L.A. Dialogue
Two co-workers sit at a bar top and stare up toward flat screen sports highlights. An act that is repeated in millions of dim-lighted, slick-topped bars where patrons play dj and the bartenders’ feet scurry from till to tap to bottle neck. All-the-while conversations are had for no reason and every reason, smiles are wrung …
Ray Races the Ghost Train
Where rests the extinct Moorestown Locomotive Company - a weeded-over and corrupt brick campus of late 19th century design, inactive since its last use as a rubber stamp factory in the early 1960’s - locals say that if you go to Morgan’s Hill just over-looking the old grounds and now defunct railway leading from the …
Bus Rider
At the age of 17, I ran naked through an empty baseball diamond with a Dark Eyes vodka-soaked tampon up my ass and two morphine sulfate pills in my blood. I am not telling you this to shock you; undoubtedly as a modern media consumer you’ve seen and read far more shocking moments than mine. …
To Fatso
Petty looked like he needed a hand. “Let me help you.” I said to him. He was dragging the body of a man across the hallway, toward the stairwell. “Much obliged.” Petty returned to me, in his normal courteous manner. He pushed his gold-tinted sunglasses up his nose. I attempted to pick up the man’s …
