Goodreads
del.icio.us
Squeal Pie
by Willie Smith, March 2006
"Bald scrawny Harry was pounding up a pig larynx. To fix his favorite dish: squeal pie. Not that he used a crust. But when he hammered the things to a pulp, they looked somewhat sickeningly like cherry pie filling. He ate them raw. Scooped right off the cutting board."
Meglomaniac
by Rob Rosen, March 2006
"We both looked fabulous in our new outfits, lost some much-needed weight, and glowed like we'd just stepped off a boat from Tahiti. People stared at us whenever we walked by. Neighbors, who'd never given us the time of day before, stopped and chatted. And most importantly, from a social standpoint, we were forever being invited to dinners and events by the muckamucks in Bill's company. We were, in short, big shots."
Precise, Literal, Unforgiving
by John Palcewski, March 2006
"Actually I didn't give a damn about how I looked, I was more worried that I would become too aware of what she looked like. But I'm a gentleman, after all, and I would never dream of alluding to the faint liver spots on the backs of her hands, or the lack of definition in her thigh muscles, or the dryness of her skin, or the rough calluses on her heels. Or her hands. Which were not as slim and elegant as those of Elizabeth, my favorite ex-wife."
"Hard Come By" and "Nail Polish"
by spiel, February 2006
"Yet now she finds herself pinned to the prison tortures. Heaps of naked masked men. Finds herself stretching to see beyond the smudged-out portions of the photos. Believes she can spot a penis here or there, counting seven nude pictures on CBS in just one story, somewhat embarrassed to be rattled by interests she's never known she had."
In Fetu
by Jen Michalski, February 2006
"We were born as one, to our parents, and placed on the single trajectory that we would call our lives. It was innocent enough, the mistake of it all, the oneness, for there was no evidence of twoness: one egg, one heart, one mind, one name. Just as we have always known that there were two, it was thus only natural to us that there were two. It could be no other way, and all the complications that came with the inconceivability of two were, for us, merely the nominal struggles of life."
Three Excerpts from Restorer of Lost Things
by Peter Magliocco, February 2006
"Perhaps that's why I came back. I can never really return to Hanoi Hilton -- it will not grace me ... But here, at the Motel, where we once came for R & R at times -- well before the Tet Offensive, & even after it -- can I not seek and perhaps achieve a rebirth of sorts? Seeing how wonderful the bustling city's become since those days!"
Windfall
by Willie Smith, February 2006
"Thorns ripped his already-ripped clothing and stabbed and frayed his skin. Wil cursed and looked down at his forearm, where the ruined sleeve of his shirt dangled. A fresh cut streaked from hand to elbow. He reached down and squeezed either side of the gash. The scaly skin went white. Dull red oozed from the new hurt. He let go of his skin."
Fidel and Me
"Two years ago I met a Jewish man in Buenos Aires bar named Samuel who told me he had sex with Adolph Eichmann's nephew. I knew it was true. Sam's parents survived the camps so Samuel could make love to the nephew of Eichmann."
My daily sin
by Clive E. Smith, December 2005
"My parents watching television and not laughing at Sidney Pointier like they usually do when other Black people come on screen. I always thought he was a white actor in blackface. He spoke different and seemed to be the only Black liked by whites, on television, other that the old cardboard-mug shot-police-composites, which flooded the news bulletins in the late seventies and early eighties."
"Spider Salad," "Promise," and "Goggles"
by Liesl Jobson, December 2005
"What ails them, asked my father. Cowpox, I said. That's not possible, he said, backwashing into his fourth beer. He leaned too close to the flame. His hair was singed, creating a bad smell that mixed with the gas from the brazing torch and odours of molten metal. It must be chicken pox, said my father. Andrew said they had already had chicken pox. You can see the scars and you can't get it twice. Probably AIDS, says my father, they've got that funny head shape."
Flight
by Gary Cummiskey, December 2005
"He was having coffee with the tall blonde one, somewhere on the Zambian border. He had met her in an Internet chatroom while she was living in Australia; she had tried to meet him in South Africa, but there had been visa and passport problems. He in turn had been unable to enter Zimbabwe, so instead they had arranged to meet here."
Honey
by Allan Kolski Horwitz, December 2005
"All the guards know him. They do not object to his visits though they have long wondered at the situation, the scenario: smartly dressed woman on third floor plays with hangdog man. They have all overheard the repeated conversations over the intercom – Umlung, dejected in the foyer, pleading to be allowed to come up - and is ignored, or told to come back another time: later in the week, at new moon, the beginning of the following month . . ."
One Night Stand
by Robert Greig, December 2005
'I saw with surprise two gleaming, abandoned figures, leaping like dolphins in the foam at the edge of the surf, splashing and playing like entranced creatures. Then they stopped and with mingled fingers walked slowly out, their curving naked lines etched beautifully when a wave broke in a flurry of flashing foam behind them. "That must be what love is," I thought, feeling like a foreigner. I turned back, not wanting the guy to think I was checking out his girl's tits, and went back to the party.'
The Loving Cup
by Gordon Torncello, November 2005
"Unfortunately, the university or college begins by separating one family member from the other, on friend from the other, one neighbor from the other. The campuses grow in direct proportion to the amount of displaced lives they collect; what comes out the other end, or whoever comes through, is dispersed across the globe to help fill key positions. This means very few life-long friendships, and even fewer community gardens."
cocaine.
by Paul Kavanagh, November 2005
"after copious amounts of cocaine tate was not feeling too good. clod kept laughing and lo was dancing. tate was drowning in sweat. clod kept laughing and lo was dancing. clod eyed lo and wished he could not see tate. clod kept laughing and lo was dancing. clod saw the legs of lo and frowned when he came upon the eyes of tate. lo was coquettish when she danced. she laughed and went round and round."
Monday Morning on the Farm
by Kris Bluth, November 2005
'"Well, you see, Bill, due to this...deficiency, all the, um, genitalia, on that particular stock are, um, abnormally small."
"How small?"
"1.3 inches. And since CBS feels that the sexual tension of the show will be compromised..."'
"All mod cons," "Through the medium of modern dance," and "Happy place"
by David Gaffney, November 2005
"He hated grocery shopping, hated the time it took. But he came up with a method. People bought the same things, more or less. So he would look for someone of his type, sneak up behind them and roll their fully-laden trolley off to the checkout."
"Civilization and its Discontents" and "The Cleanup"
by Brent Powers, November 2005
"First time I cut flesh I cried. I was ordered to – not the crying. Next time not so bad. I'm not going to say it progressed and progressed to further callousness, no, there's a kind of plateau unless you are sick, it's the screams. The helpless yowling. You hate them for it after awhile and yet you produce more of it, almost like for revenge."
The Shirt Library
by Brent Powers, October 2005
'That was his second marriage, I think, which lasted for about a week. When it was over, I picked him up in my Plymouth. His wife sat in the porch swing, eating a hardboiled egg.
"You see this?" she said, holding up what remained of the egg. "His death lives in here."'
ish
by Ben Fortenberry, October 2005
'"See, Osman we know you're an illegal. Hell, everyone in town does, but a new law states that we've got to fill a certain number of deportations each month. So, we're starting off with the easy ones. Now, you can come back in a day or two, and we'll just throw you out again next month real easy and regular like. Okay?"'
Uncle Rock
by Laurie Mazzaferro, October 2005
"Melissa was their unspoken, don't ever say anything, don't mention it secret. He hadn't meant to discover it. That night trying to convince Kel to go with him to Daytona he almost confronted her. He felt his mouth form the words. He had planned to wait until Melissa came home, high and strung out. He planned on having a little family intervention. (Something he felt qualified to do after all his trips in and out of rehab.)"
Keeping Up Appearances
by Norman A. Rubin, October 2005
"Horace Appleby discounted the words of his wife and continued to comment on the youthful appearances of his friends at the party as his removed lower and upper bridges from his mouth, which he dipped them into a glass. Then he placed the glass and contents in the large medicine cabinet above the sink."
How Roseate Were Here Areolae
by P. S. Ehrlich, October 2005
'"My name is Rozay. I'm subject to fits."
Which I took to mean she had her clothes specially made. Such as the miniature Laura Petrie outfit she was wearing: sleeveless top and Capri pants. I told her my name, and she made a face.'
Asbestos Dreams
by Jon Alan Carroll, September 2005
"The staff meeting with Bagby Barr took place as usual in Conference Room No. 5. Due to its airlessness, No. 5 was casually referred to as Big Stuffy or The Nap Room."
Waiting to Die
by Kurtice Kucheman, February 2005
'"i've told you the procedure, now please wait pleasantly to be arrested and assraped by an obese black crack addict."'
Walking through Puberty
by A.D. Winans, February 2005
"I watched Elmer walk over and pick the forbidden magazine up. He stood facing me, turning the pages until he came to the centerfold, which contained a glossy print of a naked woman with the largest breasts I could have imagined. Bigger even than my mother's."
Remember
by Rob Rosen, February 2005
"His massive sideburns and mustache were long gone. He could never keep his job if he still had them, much as he'd like to. And worse than all that were the wrinkles that had suddenly appeared around his eyes and along his forehead. "Fuck," he said, and turned away from the mirror. He was too depressed to shave. Maybe no one will notice, he thought."
"it's hard to enjoy rape sometimes" and "my father is a gardener with a rash on his cock but no garden"
by Delphine LeCompte, January 2005
'"we are all very worried about you", that's what the kinky nightnurse says whilst unzipping my jeans, he says "we" but he means "i", he says "worried" but he means "eager to get into your knickers", i'm just glad i'm no longer trapped in that nuthouse'
Black Cat Leaves White Balloon
by Eric Bosse, January 2005
"—I couldn't help but overhear your story back here and your daughter has a point.
—She's not my daughter. She's an orphan I picked up off the street.
—Dad!
—Hush now."
Everything in its Place
by Chaz Skinner, January 2005
"Jode is glad the man from the museum has stopped the flow of blood and has replaced his towel with a fat bandage. His pain is still intense but it's being transcended by an incredible hunger. He realises he hasn't eaten. Not today."
I'm so glad you're a part of my life
by Joel Van Noord, September 2005
"Dan came over and parked his car in the driveway. Walked to the tiny entryway and proceeded to remove every article of clothing and fold them neatly in a pile and then walk in the house with his clothes tightly piled on top of each other. He then lowered his naked butt cheeks into the center of a couch of girls, sending them scattering with high pitched squeals."
Pixie Sticks
by Jessica Del Balzo, September 2005
"His eyes are green, but a dirty sort of green, the color of a dried-out, trampled-on plant. I'll bet he smokes a lot. But wait, who am I to judge? Sometimes I forget about the cigarettes in my car. But then again, I am not addicted, so it's not the same sort of thing. Andrew looks like an addict, possibly of things 'worse' than my pixie sticks."
love
by Paul Kavanagh, September 2005
"The signs were all manifested, the incantatoty, the inchoate, etiolated grunts, the fluctuating orbs, the foamy lips, the disequilibrium. Vermo burned ab intra. That warm woozy feeling that undulated within knocked him for a six. Vermo discarded his chips and fish and held the girl around her waist. The girl was precarious on her feet, but Vermo held her firm."
from Revellie for a Sandstorm
by Marshall Smith, September 2005
"'You take one step closer and I'm popping this motherfucker.' And I meant it, finally. The conviction burned through the uncaring gaze I shot at Johnson as I kept my rifle steady on the Chaplain. Bullets screeched by not more than a foot above our heads. Some slammed into the armored vehicle we stood behind, creating a metallic drumbeat that almost sounded melodically orchestrated if you listened to it just right."
"Femme Fatale," "White Widow," and "Manhunt"
illustrated fiction by Cecelia Chapman, August 2005
"I always thought I knew exactly what was happening. Now I know. She was reading my email and restricted work files, using my code and name, lining the seams of my uniform, and hat, with her tiny, coded letters. I was her witless stooge."
Champagne for Tucker's Mom
from Hiawatha Rocks
by Peter Magliocco, August 2005
"Musing laughingly on that subject, the young pair of vets then left. Once behind the wheel of the Mustang, Tucker tried to feel out what Nem's opinion was of the arrangement between the truck driver and Tucker's Mom. Was that a snicker he detected on the little Polack's face, or just a polite attempt at being non-committal? He judged the latter, though still poised and ready to let Nem know there would be no mockery of the matter, and no disparagement."
Poet = Assassin
by Stephan Rose, August 2005
"Let me put this in simple terms: some people, some very POWERFUL people, aren't very happy with the state of the entertainment industry today. Lotta untalented people getting famous. Lotta people making it big by doing whatever a record company or publicist tells them to do. And that makes our country look BAD. So, people started to die. Chances are, if you hear of a musician dying of an "overdose" or a "suicide" it was one of us."
Death and the Minstrel
by Tala Bar, August 2005
"Finbar was very ill. This time, he thought, he's not going to get out of it. In the past two years he had been frequently sick, mainly had stomach aches sometimes accompanied with fever. As time went by it became worse, and he was going through attacks which, with their passing, left him feeling worn out, lifeless, with no energy to do anything."
from About a Girl
by Tony Nesca, August 2005
"Approaching downtown the drunks come out middle of the afternoon stumbling through parking lots and construction sites she digs it says life is about this takes another sip of vodka I join her people on the bus take notice driver looking at us in mirror let's get off I say...heel-toe-express down the downtown streets chinese guy parking car reminds me of something I can't remember"
I Am Not Nor Have I Ever Been
by Carol Novack, August 2005
"Once, my city burned. I saw edifices disappear, smelled death for months. Even the cats wheezed. It was a conspiracy by them, whose name we dare not utter, yes it was, but nobody wants to hear that. No, it wasn't, you're correct. I'd have to be mad to believe any such thing, you're right I'm wrong; forget I uttered the C word. I was being ridiculous."
