I should have wrapped my Play-Doh mitts around her taut, Zumba’ed waist. But instead I applied for the lifeguarding gig advertised on a white board at the Y’s front desk.More
No one broke Jesus’ legs, but someone made Him bleed. More
Douglas heard the television in the den attached to the kitchen. I should go into the den, he thought. That is where men in families go.More
There was barely anyone on the highway. Tony felt it was a mixed blessing: he wanted to need to pay attention, to not think about things other than working within the flow of traffic, but he also wanted to get there quickly. He remembered something a teammate, Liam, had once told him: to be good,More
An idea I’ve been mulling all night catches and burns through my stomach.More
i. Small Town Killers We called ourselves the Small Town Killers because we made ghosts of a man and a woman in their trailer home out on the Etowah County line in West By God, Alabama. They had done us wrong on a deal involving a small number of guns. The news reporters called usMore
There was purity and punishment to fighting and a release valve at the end of his fists.
Sometimes birds lose their way or have an accident.
Sometimes they become victims of predators.More
I know he never would have drag-raced Ferraris or had three women massage him in a kiddie pool filled with room temperature spaghetti and farfalle pasta or watch another man murder someone for a few thousand dollars…More
Let’s not mince words here. Frank Reardon makes his living as a butcher in Minot, North Dakota. Let’s just imagine for a moment the type of stories a butcher in Minot, North Dakota might tell. Now imagine a guy with the hard-earned writing chops of a Charles Bukowski or Larry Brown. Frank Reardon has publishedMore
The blood settled on the old English letters of Alan’s knuckle tattoo that spelled out the word Nana. Forty-three years of failing at everything knocked him on his ass. Tears filled up his eyes and dropped down on his cheeks. He wanted to wipe them away because when he was a young boy he wasMore
“The car had been through a reconstructed transmission, a busted carburetor, and was an absolute lush for Valvoline.” – Jordan Farmer, “Brothers”