Aaron Echoes August
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Bucky the Horse and the Gods of Radiation (3)
The air was dead still and full of natural carnage. Papa shielded his eyes from the strange bright light with a worn hand. He moved his head against the horizon and surveyed the landscape — everything was wiped clean. He turned and yelled down the cellar. “The barn is gone, and all my new fencing,… Continue reading
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Bucky the Horse and the Gods of Radiation (2)
“I don’t mind tree huggers, but I draw the line at ass lookers… No, you dumb horse, take a gander at how much I’ve gotten carved up over the years. I imagine there are a ton of goofy love hearts and chick’s names back there, but I can’t really see so you have to tell… Continue reading
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Bucky the Horse and the Gods of Radiation (1)
At the end of gravity, only the heartless still eat and smile and roll around in the dirty motel cities of the West… The dystopian nature of her guts made Linnifrid’s mouth taste like the moon. She looked up at it now as she sat on a grassy knob in some wayward rolling meadow of… Continue reading
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Albuquerque French Fries
The mountains in Albuquerque are to the east. In most places I’ve lived, they were to the west. I always found that to be a bit strange, but maybe it’s not. But I was on the east side of Albuquerque, close to the mountains, when I was suddenly struck with an insatiable desire for French… Continue reading
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Have you heard of not being summer?
I hate summer. Summer is a battle for me. I am like opposite bear and want to hibernate May through August – in a cave of ice, with a frosty mug of A and W root beer, my laptop, and really good internet service. Continue reading
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Have you heard of not being a racist ass clown?
Love is Love. And Hate is Hate. Which way are you going to go? How are you going to get to the disco? In a limo or a tank? Continue reading
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Bong Clerk
I felt a Rikki Tikki Tavi ghost ship cut through my spleen as I walked across the lot and into the shoppe. The place smelled of incense and painted wood and old linoleum and lingering clouds of grass. Continue reading
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Elvis in Atlantis
I saw Elvis making crop circles in Atlantis from the window of my pink wooden house Continue reading
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Sun burns world
Halfway through the memories on haunted hill, halfway through the turnstiles stuck in glue, sun burns red, sun burns blue, a wind sick hotel in desert hue Continue reading
cereal after sex 