1952 4 1
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Refuse to go to the church service, even though you already missed the funeral. Tell his mother something came up. Call his phone over and over, just to hear his voice, until his mother asks you to stop. Make a recording of his voicemail. Delete it an
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195200
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An armpit fart is a simulated sound of flatulence produced by creating a pocket of air between the armpit of a partially raised arm and the hand, then swiftly closing this pocket by bringing the arm close to the torso.
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195297
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1The Bird King has fallen in lovewith a radiator.He adoresher pockmarked skin,her neurotic arias,her coldness,her impulsive warmth. 2Tiring of his dalliance with the radiator,the Bird King woos an armchair.She's amply upholsteredand groans dreamilywhen he sits on…
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195284
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None of us ever thought this would happen.
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195212
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Phil was scared.
Not of his own shadow, but of the three men from ConAgra who'd dropped a duffel bag of green outside his den the week before.
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19521918
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We were in the car more than anywhere else. A few days driving, then a few days to get back home.
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19521613
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If this was the day when the bribes of whiskey and US dollars would fail to work. If on this day a black bag, smelling of shit and fear, would be pulled over his head – the bloodied roots of a knocked out tooth tickling his neck.
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195111
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In sleep their bodies drift between the sheets until they find each other.
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195186
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“Mules don’t like to dive, Esther.”
“I said maybe, Hugh. Maybe.”
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195194
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Where I grew up, you did not venture casually into ocean waters.
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195111
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“They picked me up in their spaceship about noon,” Austin Grantham says to me while pulling up an apple crate to use as a stool.
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19512719
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On the bus I sat like an ounce.
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195174
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The things we do for books, she thought.
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195100
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Caroline smiles before reaching out to touch a shapeless shadow dancing on the wall, closing her eyes as the bumps in the primer serve brail to oncoming dreams.
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195145
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Between the wars, I hung around in an air-conditioned room. It was tiny, and I was shoved to the back, but after living outside on another man's back for months of bullets and bombs, I welcomed the stuffiness. White paint kept close walls from reminding me of the trenches'…
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19511712
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A starved hunchbacked figure covered in blanket gently steers a one eyed dog along with him. A four legged shadow serving as his longtime companion against the all-consuming vacuum of the universe. A friend for all times.A thin scar runs from his cheekbone to…
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19512417
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He wore his hip in his hips, his lipsShe wanted to know if he would lick the edgesWhen he pulled the coffee cup from his mouthA bit of foam clung to his moustacheShe watched it there, wondering if he wouldTwirl it off with his fingersOr lick it, his tongue darting out like…
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19501613
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Write a poem in which your father is a dog and you are his leash.
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195065
|
I peeled off a hundred. For the screwdriver, I said. The kid shook his head, made a pushing-away gesture. You need it worse’n I do right now, he said.
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1950115
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She wears a green and pink bikini and walks real slow, poking her chest out so people will notice her.
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19503914
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Where seldom is heard
an encouraging word
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195032
|
She was legally blind. He felt comfortable knowing she couldn’t see him very clearly.
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195062
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1. Think up problems that don’t exist
2. Realize, suddenly, that they don’t exist
3. Elation
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195000
|
There’s an old journalism adage, usually uttered by editors who haven’t had their butts out of a comfy leather newsroom chair in years, which goes: “You know… the news just doesn’t walk in the door.” ... But sometimes, it does.
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194933
|
A joust. A tournament. A playing field. ¶ Hmm . . .
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194932
|
... her hair spills like spinach all the way down to her backpack, the top pocket where the bowl and the cinnamon estrange themselves from the coffee.
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19492316
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They will take you, naked,
and put their tongues and fingers
into intimate, erogenous openings
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1949139
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Dear Fictionaut Family,Some of you may recognize my name and remember reading my work, some of you may have joined more recently and be wondering what the hell I'm doing addressing you directly. I began writing on Fictionaut in 2010, during four years as I was fragmenting…
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194920
|
Her mother told her once: "Don't be no whore, Fe-fe."
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194953
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a beautiful cool quiet day
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