Fremont Sour Soil, Part 2
III. First, Norm had to get the right tools. Knowing he’d be digging in loose soil, he looked over his tool rack. Spying the implements he would…
Pump
The woman had pendulous, swaying breasts that made her wince and wince with every swing. She hobbled over the hot sidewalk, a glacial but confident…
No Animal Would Eat Him
Back when school field trips were still possible, the grade 5 children from the Bernard Madoff Elementary School went to the zoo. That day, a…
The Bet, Part 1
I. Only the broken lines registered. Short white stripes, evenly spaced, snapshots of the asphalt into the horizon tapered. Stamped with his shadow,…
Reptile Lust, Part 4
I hung up and went into the each of the kids’ rooms. They were sleeping soundly and I didn't want to wake them. I left a note on the kitchen table…
The Tiger, Part 3
VII. What was her game? If she had the money, why come to me and ask me to find it? I would have considered doing it to throw me off track a motive,…
Portrait of the Artist as a Schlemiel, Part 2
Uno momento, por favor. Was the play ever published and produced? Yes and yes. No accounting for taste. A guy jerking off in a coffee shop is not my…
Big Baby
I saw the difference after each surgery. My forehead smoothed and lips filled out onto my youthening face. The rest of the work was done at the gym:…
Revenge on a Platter, Part 1: Vengeance is a Woman Best Fucked Like a Crackerjack
I. I squinted, letting my eyes adjust to the dim light of the dingy dive bar. It figured this was where I’d find them. Vermin in the city’s…
Fremont Sour Soil, Part 1
I. As Norm Bellaire left the local coffee shop, he ordered a “latte to go” from his favorite barista, Tina Morado. She was an athletic woman, younger…
