A sordid tale of Cookery, villainy, deception, and opossums Part One I am not a Viking. I lack the taste for violence, the desire for blood and guts and sweat and tears, the drive necessary to subdue lesser men, to take what is theirs and make it your own, to…
Browsing CategoryFiction
Talladega Dan And The Wytches Of Bushwick
This is the beginning of a Novel/novella which I am trying to decide if I will continue to write or not. It’s nowhere near finished. One No one remembers exactly when the taco truck rolled into town, which is odd because normally that’s the kind of thing that kicks up…
A Brief History of Violence
I’m the guy no one sees. An invisible man in a city of millions. Oh, it’s not hard to be invisible in the city—not like back home in Calumet, Oklahoma where we had a whopping 553 people in the whole town—well, until I left, and then I guess it was…
They Go Flat
“They go flat,” she said. “What goes flat?” I asked. “The cats,” she said and motioned to the old black cat laying on its side on the deck. She sucked on the crab leg she was pointing with and continued, “They go flat in the summer.” I looked over at…
Going to Church
Back before the accident we’d always go surfing on Sunday mornings. He called it going to church. “Come on, let’s go to church,” he’d say. “I’ll call you in the morning. We don’t want to be late.” Then he’d laugh and slap his knee like he hadn’t said that a…
Uncle Bill’s
He sits in a booth in Uncle Bill’s Pancake House. The corner one near the window. He gets there early before the crowds and gets the same thing every time. It doesn’t matter what it is. Just that it’s the same and that there aren’t many people. He doesn’t like…