Nightmares from the Wanted Section

by Javy Gwaltney

WANTED: a Muse.

Former Special Forces solider turned poet seeking artistic inspiration. Brunettes preferred but blondes will not be turned away; gingers, however, are out of the question. Must have a voice that sounds like money, a self-destructive temperament, or look good under a beret. Applicants need to be fresh: interested parties with previous experience will be turned away. 543-921-211

WANTED: Sugar Momma.

I am a young, avid collector of science fiction books and comics. One of my associates wishes to sell his first edition of Frank Herbert's Dune for 2,000 dollars. I need it. I will do anything for you, intrigued old soul. I will mow your lawn and I will boil your tea. I took several massage classes at the local community college and would be more than willing to utilize that invaluable knowledge to soothe those aged, aching muscles. For Pete's sake, I will feed you cupcakes with one hand while I give you sensual sponge baths with the other. I am at the mercy of your purse and your imagination. Email me at BigPoppaAtreides@gmail.com.

WANTED: New Savior.

The last supernatural entity I courted answered my prayers approximately 56.2 % of the time, and stood me up for a date we had in May. I need a REAL supreme being who isn't all talk. If this is you, shoot me an email at Agnosticfreeagent@yahoo.com. Hindu and Christian deities need not apply.

WANTED: Seeing-Eye Man

Handicapped man in search of humanoid companion to replaced deceased canine assistant. Applicant must be willing to relocate and cohabitate with employer. Living quarters will consist of a hand-me-down cot and red plastic bowl located in corner of employer's basement. Persons applying must have a penchant for pepperoni-flavored snack treats. Interested parties should come to 631 Carrington Street next Wednesday between 1:00 and 4:00 and bring their resumes. No women please.

WANTED: Partner in Pretentiousness

Being a genius is a lonely experience. I am searching for another brainiac to alleviate my blues. Applicant needs to be capable of having discussions pertaining to Bukowski, Kurosawa, and the latest Pitchfork interviews. Must eat organic and eschew Harper's in favor of The Village Voice. Ironic jorts are also a necessity. I have no phone or way of obtaining mail. If you are interested, you must seek me out in East Village. Go to McGaffin's Pub House between the hours of 2:00 and 6:00 in the morning, and ask the bartender for Rufus. Remember: bring the jorts.