Prime Time Dad

I grew up privileged. An only child in a fancy house with a view of the ocean. I roamed its halls, and imagined its many tidy rooms filled with brothers and sisters. Dot was always there, anticipating my needs. She always knew what I wanted to eat before my stomach grumbled. She tucked me in … More Prime Time Dad

Love and Propane

*A Continuation of Case Work, posted on 11/22/16…   “Right here, Barb. Pull in right here.” “Nolan, chill. Not my first rodeo, you know?” “See there, 1832 Writersblock Ave.” “I know where it is, Nolan.” “Mr. Reinbough’s lair.” “Lair…Really Nolan?” “What?” “Just the way you talk. It’s going to drive me to drink is all.” “Not that … More Love and Propane

Assisted Care Blues

Only two weeks of summer vacation sat between me and school when I breezed through the doors of the Autumn Springs Assisted Care Center. I found Miss Cheryl at the front desk, going on with another nurse about her daughter and the latest drama with her no good boyfriend. I smiled, pretending not to listen … More Assisted Care Blues

Jolene

I didn’t plan to become a superhero, but all that changed when I got bit by a hooker down at the pier down on Southport. Her teeth feel like a sheered Budweiser can. She locks her arms around my throat. I feel her tiny frame on my back, her heals on my legs. Her wheeze is like … More Jolene

Crazy

This trailer ain’t but so big, and with four girls, it’s all I can do to keep them from fighting every day. It’s summertime, hot, and they mope around, a hurricane of blonde heads, whining, complaining about how they’re bored, painting my toenails and hogging the TV. Otherwise just being pests. If only I’d had … More Crazy

Homework

*Click to hear this story read over at Immortal Works.   I take my desk roughly two minutes after the bell rings. I start by flipping through a Vonnegut novel that makes hardly more sense than my profession. They trickle in, slow, casual, all with that strut and a laugh. The shield that masks the … More Homework

The Hero

I woke up, jolted by the cry of my mother’s distress. Her shrieks came in rhythm, rising and a falling, and for a while, at the groggy edge of my slumber. At first I was neither awake or asleep, inbetween dreams and I that someone was in there, just down the hall, torturing my mother. It wasn’t … More The Hero