I didn’t know why Reverend Belcher from the Breckinville Church of the Godly called to say he wanted to see me, but I suspected it was nothing good. “We open at 10 a.m.,” I told him. “Why don’t you stop by around 9:00, and we can chat here at the putt putt.”
Continue reading “The Day I Was Up To My Alligator In Asses by Dave Henson”
Leila Allison has been dusting the shelves in the store room – okay that’s a lie nobody can get in to do that – but she has been down there rifling through the stories and found this one by Dave Henson – this is what she said.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – The Drag Queen and the Dozen Dicks by David Henson”
Well here we are at Week 226.
As I’m writing this, there are only two main events in Britain and these have given me my inspiration for this post.
“I know you said that you didn’t want another drink but I’ve poured you one.”
Gina accepted the glass of wine.
Continue reading “Laura by Hugh Cron – Strong Adult Content”
Words cannot adequately express the giddy joy I experienced while I stood on the ferry’ s bow, alone with my “escort” (an amiable deckhand twice my size, half my age), as the vessel glided swiftly across the gunmetal Puget Sound toward Charleston, where the Law awaited me with open bracelets. The early spring sun made a lovely show of going down behind the Olympic Mountains–all dreampurple and pastel poetry. It had been ages since I had felt a sunset unfettered by loss. I was was further gladdened when my escort shooed off some fool who had come out of the cabin to capture (thus desecrate) the sunset on his phone. There was a reason we were alone; that reason (also, twice my size, half my age) was inside the cabin holding one of those phony “Blu-Ice” bags to the spot on her meaty chin where I had landed a right cross just a few minutes before.
Continue reading “All These Dreams and Tomorrow Too by Leila Allison”
It’s Mother’s Day. In the village in a foreign country my host grandmother has hooves for feet. She sits in the living room after bending her back from morning to evening, in the garden, in the outdoor kitchen, in the animals’ home. I serve her thick, dark coffee with a piece of Russian candy. Does she worry I’ll hit her with the silver pot one day? It’s a jazva, she spits. Use our language. Her teeth are badly eaten but it doesn’t affect her self-esteem. She would not know the concept, anyways—she would not see its selfish grace.
Characters presented in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to humans walking the face of this earth, today or in the past is purely coincidental.
A ray of sun struck the copper’s badge and bounced off, lighting up the voting box inside H. L. Drugstore in me South Bronx Neighborhood.
Ms Allison has spirited herself, yet again, into the dark bowels of LS Towers and emerged holding aloft this excellent piece by one of our regular contributors. This is what she said:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – I’ll Tell You Your History by L’Erin Ogle”
Here we are at Week 225. The year is fair flying in.
I didn’t have to look far for inspiration, our papers were full of it. They normally are!
Continue reading “Week 225 – Tears, Who Really Cares and Archie Gemmill Was Also In Trainspotting.”
literally stories 