Buddha hates us all. And he hates me the most.
The little statue of Buddha I keep in my pocket, the one I stole from the pagoda, stares through me into the next life.
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Tag: drugs
Deep Inside Woodwards by Harrison Kim
Too sunny on the belt buckles, blinding my brown eyes. Hooking them down to the sidewalk, I take control of my hazy head, walking quick with the crowds, watching for loose wallets. I’m skinny, so I slip between pants. It’s a familiar circuit on rainy days too, under the umbrellas and inside the handbags. Hey! There’s the known mullet cut! Yes, over by the plate glass doors. That’s Ed up there, jostling just up the Hastings sidewalk, debating with Miss Jehovah Witness, holding her pamphlets.
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Feline Psychedelia by Sam Skipper
In his book, On Hashish, Walter Benjamin describes what he experienced while under the influence of the psychoactive drug, hashish. In a section in which he details a numbered sequence of hallucinations, one lone sentence has not ceased to haunt me for even the briefest moment since I first laid eyes on it.
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Cheap Tricks by Alex Sinclair – Warning Adult Content
“Thanks love,” the red-faced punter wheezed, tossing over a tenner, as Charity Proudfoot wiped away the spunk he had dispensed on her lip with the back of a frayed coat sleeve.
She didn’t reciprocate with a banal pleasantry of her own, as per usual, she just took the dishonest twenty and climbed out the motor, which is how she knew a monster of a rattle was on the way if she didn’t hurry up and get her shit together. Normally you couldn’t shut her up.
Charity the chatterbox had been her school moniker, or as her mam preferred, a right mouthy little pain in the arse.
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The Scrapheap Centaur by Alex Sinclair. Caution – Extreme Adult Content.
Do not read if you may be offended by explicit sexual references.
Continue reading “The Scrapheap Centaur by Alex Sinclair. Caution – Extreme Adult Content.”
Air Guitar Eddy by Richard Leise
Because we didn’t know his name, and he played air guitar outside Family Dollar, we called him Air Guitar Eddy. He had two dogs. We called the pit bull Pitbull, and the other, a terrier, Funky Bitch. Funky Bitch was pregnant, bursting at the seams, and she would sit and pant in the shade. Because it was Family Dollar, Air Guitar Eddy, Pitbull, and Funky Bitch didn’t get much by way of charity.
Buying My Mam Some Smack by Reynard Laverna.
Human Alarm Clock
‘Could you just leave me alone for an hour please? I need some sleep before school.’ I say and I close the bolt on my door. I jump into bed fully clothed. Know I won’t get any sleep and she won’t leave but I pull the blanket over my face regardless.
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Chicken Farm Blues By Alex Sinclair
Rata and Jack made their way down the slimy wooden gangplank set haphazardly into the shittier sections of the road, sections where feet and scooter tires would sink into sludge.
Shade of Blue by Crispin Anderlini
That blue up there, farthest from the looming sun, is the colour his face was when I found him. Or at least it seemed that way in the creeping, early morning light. Face up, with a delicate trail of spittle across his shaven chin; and that unearthly colour staining his body — no film or book had prepared me for that.
MVP by Frederick K Foote
Part I
November 29, 2018, 10:31:03 a.m.
Interview room at the Sports League of America (SLA) headquarters in Dallas, Texas. The room has video and audio recording equipment, a conference table seating twenty, water in plastic bottles on ice with glasses and napkins. In attendance is a court reporter, a camera operator, Elsa Dayton, Chief Investigator for the SLA; John Henry Brown (JHB), running back for the Kansas Kings; Abigail Thornton, attorney for JHB, Tucker Borden agent for JHB
literally stories 