Most read stories

Okay

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I supposed reluctantly that Princeton is soft as Macalester College is soft. A person could die just for having attended U.W.-Madison or Yale.

City Streak

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the little crummy salon that churned out little fat women with pinked curly hair

Mother O'Grady's Last

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Christmas night was closing in at the Cantrips alehouse in Aberdeen, a firm favourite for riggers and other men and women who lived life close to the horizon. Sometimes, on a Saturday night, things might get a bit rowdy but Mother O'Grady would stand firm and bring out…

Axes

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You think about the first time you saw an axe

even dead body

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I'm a jogger of these parts, but I've yet to discover a dead body, or even dead body parts, or worse yet, discover that my parts will be discovered by some unfortunate jogger.

The World Explained

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This is why the earth revolves around the sun: refrigerator magnets.

Bestiary

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A woman posted a story on Fictionaut about discovering that her husband was a werewolf.

A Fine Life

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It's really not too bad. The personI am was me. We laughed insidethose sacred places at all the monieswell spent. We walked in the gardenswithout any shoes on. Not one singleflower seemed to mind. And now it'sa forgotten mess or so I've imagined.I'd rather you think about…

The Code of Hammurabi

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We pull up chairs. I breathe in her Bath and Body Works vanilla, read her paper slowly and aloud because the ears catch what the eyes miss. Her sentences are awkward, stilted.

Rising

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The coin, so little, the watch chain, the youth, the fading softening speech, each hand and finger, the panic modeled on your own eyes, the ashtray, certain stumps along the way, the long distance, the odd feather, the jazz rope gone,…

When again?

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will we begin again?We are a wheelFirst touchfirst kissfirst heatThey fade, disappear, come back again.Spokes in our wheel.When again shall we begin again?I hold you and feel myself spincaught in the whirlwind of thrill -the world, saturated with your scent.We hold each…

On Global Warming

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You think I don't know, that's your whole stupid problem. You don't believe in anyone. You must enjoy living in a dark lonely universe. I don't know if you know or not about the lights that live in your own head, but I believe …

The Old Dog (in response to Brian Warfield)

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Blend the dog a drink and sit down beside him and draw straws for regrets.

Same Old Song and Dance

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You want to get laid talking socks

The Four Despairs of Lumpy

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children love to push the gas up and down my limbs

Anthrax

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Exhausted, weak from the struggle against the personal gift of terrorism delivered by her ex-boyfriend, she died for a few minutes.

Rob's Send-off

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They could cram Rob inside the trunk and then drop him somewhere in the dingles.

Accidental Discoveries

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They look like giant golden raindrops, or flying saucers, or peculiar fish out of their element

My Back (Facebook) Pages*

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It's all over now, Baby Blue...

Unconscious Primate Pandemic Panic

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I wrap my left foot

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 40

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—Mazel tov, schmazel tov!

Mai Tai Daze

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Some people hate Waikiki. Not me. Most hotels had lounges with live music, either inside or around the pool. Evenings were spent bar hopping up and down the strip, Kalakaua Avenue. The bars stayed open till 4:00 a.m. It was safe to walk…

The Ice Cream Mantra

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Chant the ice cream mantra. Prance the do dah day ballet. Trot the t-bone tango two-step. Dance the livelong day away.

Truth Or Consequence - 2

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. . . he wants to organize society into its most efficient configuration with everyone thinking alike and willingly cooperating. Only then, he believes, can humanity reach its full potential.

Untitled

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I assume the shape of a pronoun.

left handed

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under your skin the moon is alive

Kimberlina

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...She smells like Mentholadium all the time which is one of them old lady smells. When I get up there, she says, “I’ll scrub the bee jesus out of you little girl,” and by God, I have a purty good bath that day.

Winter '69

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One minute Rudy was sitting up close to me, asking me how could Geppetto make a little boy out of a piece of wood, and the next, Steve was pounding up the stairs, yelling, "Carla, get blankets, warm clothes; we're leaving, we won't be back."

Summer, 1995.

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I am no different to her, living seven days ahead of myself, looking forward to looking back, as we Irish do so fondly

needs

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addict for validation and cat tongues