Got the news straight from the horse’s ass. No fucking around at all. Dr. pull-no-punches, straight arrow motherfucker.
“The cancer done got you, boy. Got you good from asshole to elbows. Not much we can do, but wave to you as you go.”
“How about, chemo, radiation, experimental—“
“How about six to eight weeks to go? How about that?”
Continue reading “Goodbye Blues by Frederick K Foote – Adult Content.”
I love my computer; the hours and hours we spend together. Locked in the semi-darkness of the office, everyone else in bed, while the fire ticks and spits and becomes glowing dust.
I checked my e-mails, updated my website and transferred some money into my savings account. The main purpose of tonight’s work though has been an article for the local newspaper, a “My life and times” that sort of thing, living in the sixties. It was fun and now I’m not ready for bed. My mind is buzzing, too much mental stimulation. Another brandy will be one too many, and I don’t want herbal tea.
Continue reading “Delete Browsing History by Diane M Dickson”
London 1929, a society sticking to the rigid values of the past, but only on the surface.
Such charm he had, Leonard. Such charm, elegance too. Poise, like a woman. He’d observe out of the corner of his eyes; feline, almost feminine. Everyone liked Leonard, even when the opinions expressed could be cutting. Acute observation.
People believed him blessed, and sought out his company at parties. He was rarely alone. Despite advances from both men and women, Adele was the only woman Leonard took home, but they weren’t lovers.
Foreword.
And so it came to pass –
It turned out Fly Mary was telling the truth in her lies about ‘The Second Coming’. The upstairs neighbour had been a Jaffa and Sonny was who she lied he was.
The question on god wanting to shag a skanky, cider drinking, random hoor has never been considered.
This is the story of one specific day in the life of Sonny and his morning resurrection.
Continue reading “Sonny Dodds – The Magical Years by Hugh Cron – Adult Content”
It was a tiny spot really, just a smear of grease. Possibly it was the remains of a little squashed fly, snuffed out in the middle of its existence, hmm, maybe. I tried to ignore it, I turned away but each time I passed it was there and it called to me, mocking me. Huh – you think you’re perfect well look you left a smear, you left the innards of a tiny creature daubed across the glass, spread over the shiny, newly cleaned window.
“Joe Dodd!!!! Get your arse in here!!!”
“I’m coming! The census man was at the door. I told him that there was no spare room!”
Joseph ran to his wife. She was lying in bed with her legs very tightly together.
Continue reading “The Second Coming by Hugh Cron – Adult Content”
Transcript from Session 04 of 9/22/10
Patient: Mr. Gregory Wright
Age: 25
Sex: Male
Race: White
Condition: Severely distressed, recently involved in a traumatic event (accidental homicide)
Session Conducted by Dr. Harold Hill
Time Start: 2:59 PM
Shaken to the core, foundation rattled; defenses breached, exposed, weakened, bloodied. He did it. Him walking away.
That colored boy did it. He got her new 1962 Buick out of a tight spot. Assistance not requested or desired. Walked away on her thank you. Turned his back on her. Turned back to her. Yelled, “Hey!” and she turned, faced him. He took her face in his hands, not gently, and smashed his lips against hers, rough lips, chapped and hard; bruised her lips against her teeth. Drew blood and walked away.
Continue reading “True Love At Last by Frederick K. Foote – Adult Content”
“At the end, all that’s left of you are your possessions. Perhaps that’s why I’ve never been able to throw anything away…” –Nicole Krauss.
~
“Don, you have to help me. I’m desperate. Isn’t there some drug I can take, or a therapy?”
Don’s longtime friend, a successful accountant named Avraham “Avi” Goldstein, asked the question of Donald E. Cashdollar, M.D., Ph.D., an eminent physician and researcher at the Brookline Center for Neurological Research. Cashdollar put his hand to his chin as though to reinforce his thinking in response to the question. As he did so, Cashdollar shifted ever so slightly, sinking deeper into Goldstein’s living room easy chair. “Careful, Don—“
This was before we all started worrying about skin cancer. If you got burnt early doors the rest of the holiday you’d slowly turn brown. It was a holiday rite of passage, something to anticipate and dread.
There’d been talk of a bloom of jellyfish what with the warmer waters. Colin was standing in the sea up to his knees poking at them with the sharp end of his metal spade. It’s easy to say with hindsight that there was something vindictive about the boy. You read people backwards, fill in the gaps, squeeze the facts to fit what the present throws up. I can’t help recalling what I saw in the boy, seeing him with a magnifying glass burning ants in the sunshine. He’d capture crane flies in a jam jar, seal the lid and watch them flap frantically against the glass before collapsing still and exhausted. Only then would he lift the lid and slowly pull off their wings and legs before rolling the body into a ball between his thumb and forefinger. Jim says that lots of kids did that sort of thing but you still wonder.
Continue reading “Before We Started Worrying by Martyn Clayton”
literally stories 
