Some of you know Flatline. Thanks to Monkeybicyle, publisher of literary things, for their consideration I didn’t think it was a big deal when my sister Kate started dating a Golden Gloves champ. Sure, my Mom got uptight, but when wasn’t she? And my Dad? Oblivious. He was far more interested in that big tit broad at the office. The thought of his daughter banging a guy who bench-pressed four hundred pounds, someone with seventeen KOs to his name, was …Read the Rest
After too many rewrites to count, I finally placed “When you Sleep” with Static Movement, a “for the love” e-zine and publisher. Thanks, guys The police report is dated June 17, six months ago yesterday. It was Friday night, and school was out. Tim and I were in my Dad’s car, cruising around the lake, on the far side of the tunnel where it crosses under the parkway. That’s where I killed her. I wasn’t high. Tim was smoking a …Read the Rest
I got her two dozen long-stem roses for her 16th birthday. I was smarter back then, and should have just stuck with flowers going forward. When she was 17, I bought her a pair of black gerbils. Because I wanted her to read Lord of the Rings, she named them Frodo and Bilbo. Sometime before Thanksgiving, Bilbo ate Frodo’s tail. She screamed when she found him. Bilbo died before Christmas. We used the aquarium later for some fish. For her …Read the Rest
The guys at work called him Sparky. He proclaimed with some vehemence a motto of safety first, but always said it with a grin. That’s when the lights went out, a blown circuit breaker or unexpected surge of current the cause. Still though, he could repair the tail lights on your pickup truck with a foil wrapper from a stick of chewing gum, or jury rig a machine tool such to make the Hardinge Brothers roll in their steely graves. Five different times we …Read the Rest
I was in my den last night, working on my acceptance speech for the 2012 Bloggies award, when the Ubercat strolled in. “We need to talk,” she said without preamble. She knew she wasn’t allowed in my room. That’s what happens when she tries to eat my bird. I reached for the squirt bottle. “Hold it, human,” she said, and ran behind the chair. “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!” I yelled. The Nordic Warrior Queen called from downstairs. “Everything okay …Read the Rest
I used to fall asleep in high school. History 101. Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia can be boring, even to a fifteen-year-old boy. Then I noticed the girl: four seats up, on the right, the one with the hourglass shape and the beautiful neck. She wore bell-bottom jeans and a tight sweater, white stripes against a sky blue background. It looked painted on. Incredible. She turned to whisper something to a friend, and that’s when I saw her eyes. Green, with …Read the Rest
Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while. Thanks to Absinthe Revival for publishing my story, Dancing in the Void. Three days before Christmas, Mary slipped in the shower and cracked her head on the soap dish. I found her a half hour later. The water was long cold and her skin had turned purplish, like an overripe plum. Her speech was gone, and she gave me one of her impatient looks: what took you so long? I wrapped …Read the Rest
Many thanks to Eunoia Review for publishing my short story, “Leaving the Keys.” Tired and dirty, Jimbo sat in the center of an empty kitchen, determined to drink until he felt normal again. Empty cans of Miller Lite surrounded the legs of the folding chair on which he was perched, a chair more accustomed to the vagaries of family gatherings and picnics at the lake than hard ceramic tile. Wrapped around him was the cold blanket of plaster, wood, and …Read the Rest
I spent the entire weekend moving all my stuff to two new sites. Many thanks to the Nordic Warrior Queen for her enduring patience. Going forward, all my make-believe writing will appear here: http://afewyearsinthevalley.com My technical articles are here: http://kipatron.com The existing links on the Writing tab at https://misterass.com will remain in place, so as to avoid HTTP 404 errors (page not found), which I don’t know how to fix. Sometimes the path of least resistance is best. P.S. If …Read the Rest
Once again, I found myself at the grocery store, buying stuff for dinner. The Nordic Warrior Queen wanted au gratin potatoes, and the Sister Wife was out of beer. Again. I decided to boycott Whole Foods. Any store that makes such a big deal over a stupid block of pasteurized processed cheese food doesn’t deserve my business. Besides, Albertsons is closer. They’re just across the street, right next to BJ’s, and the CVS Pharmacy with the broken blood pressure machine. …Read the Rest