Short Story
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The Green Brick Road
Flittering filth and glass lenses. The dais waits under fuzzy white light. The podium is propped. The whole of the stage is green. The audience whispers of ghost sightings and Christmas cookies on a white plate with a red and green design. A glass of milk gently shakes; a ripple forms across the top of… Continue reading
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Oaf Doomsday
We just can’t anymore. This abysmal toast of every morning. The spotted sunrise. The opiate day curtains. The panic, the tremors, the heart rushes, the worry, the candy fevers. The daily death of dreams. Cracked crystal balls leaking hopeless futures. The bombs, the broken babies, the bazooka douchebags and their flags and Freedom Fries. An… Continue reading
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Bread Mannequins and Green Mist
On the green and misty outskirts of Cincinnati, a man named Saul Revenge pauses in his driveway and looks at his blue house. His rust-orange suit is crumpled from a day of working and living. Everything seems intact beneath a cantaloupe and baby-blue cotton colored sky streaked with bruise gray. The shrubs are neatly pruned… Continue reading
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The Moldy Oranges of God
The walls of the room where I was being kept were a sickly yellowish orange color. Perhaps more akin to the color of a bleached peach. On one of the walls was a large painting of a maniacal-looking man holding a moldy orange in each of his hands. Continue reading
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The Electric Pancake House
In the warbled dawn of a coming hot summer day the crypto man wiles away in a labyrinth of enigma. The staircase to the pancake house was long and winding. He burst through and there were the smells of syrup and broiling butter. It was the essence of Isis, the corrugated dreams of a running… Continue reading
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The Crashing Life
It was a blue-gray evening dipped in pink and orange when Simon Waterbones drove his car into a KFC restaurant in downtown Amarillo, Texas. There was a mess of broken glass, toppled tables, spilled chicken and drinks. He stepped out into a cloud of dust, coughed, brushed himself off. “Shit. Sorry about that.” An old… Continue reading
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The Gravy Canoe of Wild Wyoming – 13
“Ecstasy!?” Melba cried out. “What kind of ecstasy has been going on in here? Do you not see the pictures of our beloved Jesus hanging on the walls? You did this in front of his eyes?” Continue reading
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Weird Hair and Roses
She is beautiful on a space sofa, that cushioned ass. The ambient drive of a midnight cockatoo tail. A tale of breathlessness, a tale of wind in the face on a warm summer day. Vanishing, all vanishing like liquid ghost meat… Continue reading
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Fake Plastic People Do Harm
An empty Coke bottle sits on a worn, brown Formica table in a restaurant booth. The resting back and seat padding of the booth is a sickly mustard color. A half-used plastic bottle of generic brand ketchup sits at the table’s edge along with a silver napkin holder, a miniature silo of sugar, salt and… Continue reading
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The Last Drop
John Horatio Smith was an odd man. He sold top hats in the men’s boutique down the street. The street that streamed near Jack Kerouac’s grave. He sold top hats to idiots, to henchman, to rich and bolshy bastards eating wet cigars for an afternoon snack. John loved his work. No, he really hated it.… Continue reading
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