The old woman in front of me is dead, this is an absolute, something I cannot change regardless of the power I have. She has been dead for quite some time, but she flutters around the broken-down trailer house like she has just been reborn, and in a way, I guess she has. It is my job to facilitate these things but she seems not to need me and moves in a busy rhythm to a beat only she can hear.
Continue reading “Trailer Parks and Sagebrush by Rachel Sievers”
“Cardinal Mahoney, this is your official interview for acceptance into Heaven. I will ask you questions, give you time to respond and close this interview by giving you a chance to make any corrections or to add any information. Cardinal, do you understand this process?”
Continue reading “St. Peter Interview with Cardinal Chester Mahoney by Frederick K Foote”
Oh man! That was the Mother of all nights out. What a headache! I can’t remember much about it. Must have been a great night!
But, where am I? In a place with dark carpets, velvety wall paper, fussy gold mirrors. Some woman’s house, I suppose. A sexy babe who whisked me back to her place for a night cap and a game of Hide-the-Sausage. Was it the surfer chick from Bondi in the barely-there bikini? Talk about hot. And the way she rode those waves. I’d better find a mirror to see how bad I look and whether I need a shower. Don’t you hate it when the girl gets her first peek at you in daylight and throws up?
literally stories 