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Kitchen Knife (n.)1. A standard kitchen tool consisting of a sharp blade attached to a handle intended for cutting, peeling, chopping, slicing, and dicing.2. Used primarily for food preparation (see also BUTCHERING; BACKSTABBING; JACK THE RIPPER; DEATH BY A THOUSAND…
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She shoved a small bottle under her aprons and came towards me, darkening the passageway from “Ancestor” by Thomas Kinsella The night I heard the Banshee she passed away. In my screaming fear dada and mama woke. …
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Her boyfriend is into U.S. presidents and professional wrestling. He is reading biographies of both occupations and says this helps him to appreciate gray area, decisive action. Lives of great men, he explains.
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Sometimes the wind comes across the fields and you would swear that it can be known. Going along the one lane there I look out and see those vast spaces and then refocus on to closer on. Swinging the truck into a side road that goes far and far and then left, I pull into…
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“You look so … distinguished.
My!” she said.
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That was some root beer float. It cost us a grand total of $275.
She pulls up in front of Fenton’s Ice Cream Parlor and leaves the motor running while I jump out and run into the parlor.
It was early evening. We HAD to have a root beer float. You
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The Trust Fund editors said they are leaving Germany. They have been there while I have stayed home to tend American refugees.
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“Professor Gosser,”continued Victor, “I once screwed three women in a row--I mean of course, time, not space—good one, huh? Well, each woman farted at the exact moment she climaxed. Would that qualify as coincidence? And did it have anything to do with th
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It was entirely my fault, misreading signals. I have a clumsy imagination, mistook your gushing about my boobs as a soul connection. Then you said something about us being lovers in a past life, and I remembered Bobby Bubion from high school, his strategy for…
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She was in love with a boy whose eyes were so brown that she sat stopped in the restaurant at the anniversary dinner with the spoon in her slow chocolate fondant. Out of the corner of her eye, around the back of her head, under the table knees knocking
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Ellen decided to soft-pedal the one month to live thing. Really, there was barely time for the patient to read Ellen's brochure.
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Oh, also, had no idea what the whole visit to the Kingdom of the Dead was getting at. Interesting, but seems unrelated to the larger story. I'd cut it. Remember — this is a story about one man's attempt to get home. Stay focused on that.
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We buried her upright, in the stance of warriors.
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How much more attuned he was when surrounded by forest, consigning meaning to each tiny sound.
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It is our gift-- the knowing/
without knowing--/
that allows us transport,
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In my own case, before Ellen, of course there was someone else. She—well, she was someone who I felt as if I’d always known and always would. And I think she felt the same about me.
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The surface temperature of the sun is 9,800 degrees Fahrenheit.
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"When Roach # 7845 awoke this evening, she found herself transformed into Ann Coulter. "
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I put my arms around her and whisper to her while she plays the piano. She wiggles and tells me to stop it.
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French citizens. The friends were all citizens of a half-assed France. The friends were all half-assed citizens of a French stance. Carol was more American, more eggnog, more cream-of-wheat. She represented dull victory.
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Is it better to have a boy or a girl? That's not a rhetorical question. I'm really asking. When I was four, I used to wedge myself in between the wall and refrigerator and yell out, “Help! I'm stuck!” It was my mom's least favorite game. Meanwhile, half a
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Little rambling soul,/kind guest, friend: leave me laughing,/pallid stiff, and bare.
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He stops smiling and only
says he loves me when prompted,
as if asking me to pass the salt
for his inner peace as it tastes too bland.
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If you want to be a writer, just write stuff.
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We’re on our way out, my brother and me, to the graveyard.
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Look, “Wolfie,” (or “Pharaoh,” or whatever your name is now) a little too much information, don’t you think? I don’t need to hear all the details about you and Sharon. It’s my life, and I’ll cry if I want to – to alter the song just a
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i thirst always
for that poetic mouthful
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When the arguing started, their voices would get louder and louder, till they broke into my dreams. That night, I woke and listened in the dark for what felt like a very long time. Perhaps I should have been afraid, but I wasn't. For one thing, they never
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They made posters and hung them everywhere. With the passing days she became the photograph at its center: hair always in the same ponytail; always with the same smile
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My mother moved her things out of my parents’ bedroom into the attic guest room. When I asked where guests would sleep, my father said, “Matthew, don’t be an asshole.”
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