Most recent stories

Fur licking City Cats

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Howling, prowling, yowling Baby Dykes, stalkin' chicks, throwin' fits, takin' hits! A thousand thigh divin', rosebud nipped, fur licking dancin' cats, (Claws in, claws out! Yes!) sniffin' that cradle of love.


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The unfanged obscene had finally caught him in the night.

The Killer

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It don't knock you down to the goddamned ground and push your face into the mat and dare you to get back up. Just so it can knock you down again. They don't have real dreams. Dreams that make them wake up in the middle of the night. Hurting. Wanting.

Simmer Time

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Usually the predawn light means bedtime for wicked guitar players, but not that bloody Sunday.


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When I was nine years old, I fell through the rotting boards that covered my grandmother's cesspool and nearly drowned.

Fuck with death....again.

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The grenadier moans in his sleep. He’s making love with a dead brown woman. A small, bone thin woman with heavy milk full breast. A dead child’s milk.

Dead Woman's Shoes

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Loving you, I always knew, was a job I’d only get via a dead woman’s shoes. There you were, the recipient of pot roasts, fresh bread, at a loss amongst neighbourhood widows and divorcees. A tide of them rolled over you in calico blouses, cut off jeans

Mickey and Harriet

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Ellie's got two parrots. She owns the house down the block to the left where the golf club owner fixes her grounds and garage because he can't stop working on his vacation. …


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Holly Hope had met Latest Girlfriend once and was pleased to see that the woman wore stylish dresses, even if the end results looked like Liz Claiborne had tried to clothe a cigarette machine.


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Goddamned crabs. He got em. Lenny. Itch. Itch. Itch. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

The Shirley School of Customer Service

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Hi. I'm Shirley. I'm not here to help you. You might think because I wear this ticky-tack name badge that I'm your servant. But I'm not. I'm here at K-mart because my grandson said I need to get out of the house. I wish he'd get out of my house. Here are some survival tips…

The Oscars

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Her husband goes hard on her. No blushes--he goes hard all over, not just in the assumed area. He could have Blip! disappeared instead, how would his wife have liked that? He has to make a choice, his captors are waiting, they don't have time, that is to…

The Island

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My muscles ached but I was awake. That night I didn’t sleep as soon as my body wanted to. I stared at the picture facing me, knowing the young man her father had been was behind it. I kept thinking of his eyes looking out, at the old man who eventu

Making Small Things

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We were the same and different. I was wild, wild, and she was calm. A pair of dolls we were. Holding hands in thin white dresses. Running through fields. Spying on boys. Making small things from grass and weed and wildflower. One day (it was a Tuesday) al

It Is Not Gravity Which Pulls Us Down

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It Is Not Gravity Which Pulls Us Down Only these tired neglected gods still wander the floor of the universe, sifting joylessly through the detritus that lies there: the fragments of fallen planets grown so heavy with sadness they had lost the will to spin…

The Faraday Effect

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Because he tells her to, she puts on a vintage Easter dress one size too small and sprawls in a circle of light on the dusty floor...

There They Are! Here They Come!

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“Help us, help us,” the children are saying. “They’ll come back. Help us. They bite.”

The Yellow Wonder

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Whenever I hear Adam Sandler's song, “My Piece of Shit Car”, it brings back memories. Notice I don't say fond memories. It brings me back just like the really bad backwash regurgitation flavor…


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It's an easy thing to take out an eye.

The Velocity of a Clitoris

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Unfortunately, the question had a similar impact on me that a command not to have thought about rhinoceroses would have—once suggested, I could think of little else

What Keeps Us Awake

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On Friday evenings they play Scrabble, a whole crowd of them. They use books to keep score, page numbers, instead of a long column of pencil scratches. They organize themselves into teams; the English majors all together, versus biology, history and horn players. She and he…

This is Why We Can Never Have Nice Things

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At age eleven, I murder the coffee table. I gouge with every available implement: thumbtacks, Lefty scissors, the plastic hand of my Barbie accomplice (who really should have known better). It is a slow death. In the end, there is nowhere to hide the body. When I am…


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I wanted to kill her –

The Intercom

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I have never met Joe’s brother, of course.


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The fabric on the waiting room chairs is stained and matted, but has been cleaned over and over.


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Our house was big, red brick, with off-white walls that watched over us while we slept, while we prayed for our souls to be kept, while we shared bath water and bunk beds and the secret of the back closet we will die with and never reveal.


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The midsummer sky is black above us when I hear Dad say my name, quiet like I’ve never heard before. I let my hands drop away from my face and crawl towards him.

Girl With Floral Basket.

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“Excuse me,” said the girl. “You aren’t allowed to eat your own food in here.”

Not finding you

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Had this been a film, I’d have seen you at once. Extreme close-up: my finger on the green button that opens the door to the park. Long shot: my leaving my bike at the entrance. Slow shot: my walking down the narrow stone path.

Upon Learning the Fetus Has Fingernails

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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.