2039 4 2
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All right, so the frog I risked my lips on (not to mention the contents of my stomach) . . . .
|
2038155
|
Megalomania is a kind of backwards leprosy. It rots your insides out while your skin glistens and grows tighter around your bones.
|
2038129
|
in which creative destruction holds the heads of entire populations beneath the surface of the water in bathtubs until the bubbles stop
|
203884
|
“I don’t know what’s going on there,” Hank, who hated his name and wanted a more Biblical name because those names (Jeremiah! Matthew! David!)—although common—sound ominous, said as he pointed up to the top of the apartment building that housed the whores
|
20381311
|
I am constricted by rings. The weight of self crushes me.
|
203811
|
Whispers flew, like wild darts across the room. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. Right then, it wasn’t my job to figure things out; it was my job to cry.
|
20381213
|
Papadad has one good eye. The other fell out during a rant and has since been replaced by a rifle scope, which he uses to scrutinise enemies.——Papadad is an authority on everything, even topics he has not researched. He expatiates on these at the dinner table,…
|
20383914
|
Where seldom is heard
an encouraging word
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203875
|
“It’s a sad thing,” I said, “when a man has to suffer just for getting a little on the side.”
|
203884
|
He beats the girl, stabs her 22 times, rapes her, then uses his fingertips to push her orbital sockets into the back of her head before killing her. At trial, he laughs about whether or not there…
|
203812
|
The zombie apocalypse was long foretold as a rather exciting bit of bother involving shotguns and chainsaws, but the reality of it is rather depressingly boring.
|
203875
|
He drifted for years: No forwarding. No phone.
|
2038114
|
Upon learning the fetus has fingernails, Missy texts her boyfriend: It has nails! He won’t reply because he’s just left for war, but she does it just the same.
|
20381310
|
sacred ground bleached with the salt of bitter tears
|
203755
|
He has one good eye and is missing the other. The socket of his missing eye squints with a disturbing and unfathomable insight.
|
2037107
|
Things get lost in Big John, too. I see the other guys throw jokes about his size at his body that wedge their way into his armpits or into the wrinkles of his laugh lines and disappear. I’m not sure if it all disappears to remind us how small we are,
|
203777
|
The mountains of humility went silent, / the rain of regency dried its eyes
|
203794
|
Three hours isn't that long.
|
203721
|
time. Night after night he's up, restless. What if she knew his plans? If only he'd bypass his miscalculations and slip through
|
20372315
|
This is the story of the man whose wife lived in his neck. Every morning, he would turn to her and say, "Hello, Sweetheart. How was your night?" and she would answer, Brilliant! What else?
|
203798
|
They sat on the couch, and he tried to unbutton her buttons, but she fended him off.
|
203787
|
I'd been working for two years as a barista in a Starbuck's in a giant, two-story Borders in an upscale mall on Rt. 355, a main artery between Washington D.C., and Frederick, Maryland. I'd finished my M.F.A in 2000 and was trying to build up steam for more grad…
|
203750
|
Take my hand. Take my hand and we will sail through the atmosphere leaving trails of rainbow speckled life written in musical notes behind us. We can go anywhere you want, whenever you wish. The moon in 1974. I hear the earth looks gorgeous during the seventies.…
|
203784
|
None of us ever thought this would happen.
|
2037179
|
Can you find happiness in the middle of a kidney stone attack?
|
203762
|
The figure was covered in a light blue chenille bathrobe, splayed out on her back on the floor by the glass door, her hair done up in large curlers, a slipper lying askew by her left foot. Richie crouched near the face and the rancid flame of bourbon lea
|
203741
|
I’m squatting naked over the hand mirror, feet cold on the terrazzo floor, looking at my winking arsehole.
|
203722
|
He pulls on his wispy goatee and shifts his weight a few times from one foot to the other. That doesn’t help. It rarely does, to be honest.
|
20362916
|
"...they ran shirtless like pagans under southern stars."
|
203600
|
author's note: the borgs in this story have been programmed to think of themselves as IT and in speech refer to selves as YOU* Though IT too had ball and socket joints, the Borg could not sit down to face ITs inquisitor. While IT felt the need to clean up the fallen…
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