Fiction
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Tecumah (1.)
“You’re the immigrant,” he snarled in a wild, earthy way. “And I’ll gladly knock you back to Europa.” Continue reading
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The Lobster Guy (END)
She shook her head at him. “But you’re not a lobster, Truman. You’re a man. A real man. And you don’t need butter and lemon to prove that to me. Get in the water.” Continue reading
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The Lobster Guy (Ten)
“I want ice cream, not toothpaste. I think I’ll go with the cherry chocolate delight in a sugar cone please,” Truman decided. Continue reading
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The Lobster Guy (Nine)
“And if you were truly my friend, you wouldn’t force such a thing upon me. I’m not a killer. I’m a lover of lobster. I’m a lover of life!” Continue reading
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The Chronicles of Anton Chico (A Mexican moon)
Those barriers, those watch towers, those rows of razor wire are grim reminders of human selfishness, the God negative and gluttony, hypocritical pride and the suffering in its wake. Continue reading
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The Lobster Guy (Seven)
Truman took in a shocked breath and sat back in the booth. “You just blew my mind, my eerie lobster friend. There I was this whole time, rotting away in Neptune, Nebraska, breaking chicken necks and punching a register at some shitty grocery store. There I was, pining over a woman I could never have.… Continue reading
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The Lobster Guy (Six)
“We’re going to spend the day together. And despite your crushing heartbreak at the hands and mouth and other unspeakable orifices of that evil woman… We are going to have a good time. A very good time.” Continue reading
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Mundola Fantastic
He wanted to fly to Sri Lanka or Yemen or maybe all the way to Pluto in space and beyond, to waterfall stars and deep blood blue oceans with fish that glowed like neon and maybe somehow smoked magical cigars. Continue reading
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The Axiom Caboose
“I can tell you ache for my burst of plasma. Release yourself to me now, and later, when you are comfortable in your quarters, you will be able to reflect on a far better day than if you continue to turn away from me.” Continue reading
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The Lobster Guy (Three)
Excerpt: The moronic monotony of it all was murder, Truman thought to himself, as he robotically scanned groceries, pushed buttons, and took money. Continue reading
cereal after sex 