January 14, 2014   1 note

Foiled again!

The octopus sat limp on the floor. Tentacles splayed across tiles. Martin looked at it, then, with a shrug of his shoulders, reached down, grabbed the octopus by it’s squishy head and tossed it back into the fish tank. He shook his head in bewilderment. “Every damn day,” he muttered.

January 14, 2014   1 note

Obit.

DECEASED: Ted Mickel, age 45. He leaves behind a loving wife, Molly. Ted served his family and country with conviction. He was an exemplary officer for the Orange county police department, who should not have eaten such a huge bite of prime rib without teaching his wife the Heimlich maneuver.

January 14, 2014

Wanderlust

Hurgot, King of all Gypsies, stood and spoke to the crowd. His impassioned speech lasted exactly fifteen hours, forty-two minutes and seventeen seconds. He raised his fist passionately. Jowels shook with vigor. Finally, he stopped and bowed with a flourish. The crowd had wandered on to the next town.

January 14, 2014

Mini Cult

The kids gathered in a circle. The oldest was six. One by one, they each took turns. When everyone had finished their juice, they lay down, closed their eyes and waited for the spaceship to come take them to heaven. That was when Gina peed her pants, and ruined everything.

January 14, 2014

Inspiration > Nostalgia

Johnny traded his records for cassettes, then traded his cassettes for CD’s, then traded his CD’s for Mp3’s. When his apartment flooded, his computer crashed and his old collections were ruined. He decided the only thing left to do was sing, play guitar, and make some music of his own.

January 14, 2014

"Honey, I’m Home…"

It was an odd fetish; Mark paid her well for it.

She entered the room, a pink human bunny.

He spat on her, called her names.

Her indulgence, his ecstasy.

He got rough; she fell limp.

How do you explain to your wife that you’ve just killed a hooker?

January 14, 2014

Primal Instinct

Riley smoked behind Walgreens. She named the local cat Miggles. She gave cigarettes to the bum near the dumpster. He had liquor breath; asked for food money. She never gave him any; he was a drunk. She hadn’t seen Miggles in awhile. The bum had stopped asking for food.

January 14, 2014

Fasting is Stupid

My tummy is growling. I haven’t eaten all day. There is food around the house, but I will not eat it. My body is but a vessel. My mind is strong. I am doing this to show that I have discipline, that I have faith. I feel kinda dizzy.

January 14, 2014

on writing

I believe that proper grammar and prose do not represent the only way to produce good writing. I believe that most readers do not know as much as we presume they know.

I am firm in my beliefs.

I am also a bitch who gets defensive when he is criticized.

January 14, 2014

Ode to Tater-Tots

Golden-brown, and round. A crispy cylinder. Crunchy outside hiding bits of soft starchy goodness within. Can be dipped in ketchup, mayonnaise. Warm smelling. Piping hot inside. IF THEY DROP TO THE GROUND: DO NOT EAT THEM! You may get dirt in your mouth; they will not taste the same.

January 14, 2014

Tipping when you’re poor.

"Hey man, you only left me a $3 tip."

"So? You’re a bartender, I ordered three rounds of drinks."

"It was a fifty-five dollar tab."

"So, you’re calling me out? I tip a dollar per round."

"Was the service that bad?"

"Was it that good?"

"Asshole."

"Asshole."

January 14, 2014

Washington Ave on a Thursday Night

Florescent lights and a humid breeze. Couples intertwined on sidewalks, against buildings, along a wall. High skirts, high bums, high hopes. An eddy of tourists and locals. Promoters, panhandlers, prostitutes. Taxis, bikes, the occasional muscle car. The smell of food, sweat and exhaust fumes. Blaring music. Fashion, flirting. Meandering masses.

January 14, 2014

Munchies are bad for you.

The vending machine stuck. Fritos hung dangling from the coil. Shake, shake. The dollar insert slot was taped over. She was out of change, save for two nickels. Shake, shake. Shake, shake, shakeshakeshakeshake! A coworker walked by and slammed her face, nose first, into the machine. Blood gushed. Fritos fell.

January 14, 2014

It’s not like I’m fucking rich either…

He found a credit card on the ground. Used it at the local drugstore. Next, the local supermarket. No questions asked. He didn’t care about the card’s owner. He couldn’t afford to. He couldn’t afford anything. He couldn’t afford to live. He’s still a sonofabitch.

January 14, 2014

Oops!

Brad bought a knife. A six-inch blade with a leather-bound handle. He tested it’s weight by flicking and catching it. He practiced daily. Toss, catch, repeat. His father knew this and should not have punished him for killing Maurice. There was no juggling at the fair anymore.