Short Fiction
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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 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
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The Lobster Guy (Two)
Excerpt: “I could, and I would if I lived there instead of this shithole. I would eat lobster every damn day, and you know what, if you came to visit me, I wouldn’t let you have any lobster at all. I’d say to you, ‘No lobster roll for you, Mr. Munich,’ and then I’d tell… Continue reading
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The Lobster Guy (One)
Truman stripped off his clothes and dipped his lanky body into the scalding water. It hurt at first, but then his body got used to it. His body always got used to it. His hot lemon-butter bath had become a regular ritual lately and he thought he might be going absolutely nuts. Continue reading
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The Laguna Bungle (Session 5)
Regardless of what the science is, I’m never the same person all the time. I am liquid. I am fluid. I break and spill. I flow and damage. Other times I am as still as an unmuddied lake beneath an azure sky, brushstrokes against a canvas of lapis lazuli. Continue reading
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Mingling With the Savages
The parched, rocky landscape flew by me like a desolate nightmare. The sky so gaping wide, churning blue and cream. Continue reading
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The Chronicles of Anton Chico (Low and High)
I went down to the river. The mighty Pecos River that wasn’t so mighty. Maybe like me. I stood on the edge looking down at the slowly swirling brown water. Continue reading
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The October Oatmeal Project (A Halloween Story)
The ghost of Wilford Brimley rode upon an ocelot across the dry-skinned floor of the salt flats out beyond the perimeter of Brigham City, Utah, where he lived in a holy water and whitewashed adobe abode. Continue reading
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The Laguna Bungle (Session 2)
The house was an orgiastic glory hole of shining metal and stunning stone, sharp lines, and tall windows. It had a mid-century centurion vibe to it, the slopes and angles of it crooning Albuquerque hipness. Continue reading
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Refrigerated Dreams (Act 5)
Veronica Genesis sat nervously in class trying to focus on the puzzling geometry book spread out before her. She lifted her head and painfully watched Mrs. Anderson’s back as she scratched something into the green blackboard with a thick piece of white chalk. Continue reading
cereal after sex 