Die.  Just die.  Hurry up.

A Day in the Life of WordPress Darling Trent Fucking Lewin

            Wake up.  What country is this?             Downstairs, the doorman greets me.  “Hello Mr. Lewin, how are you?”             “Fucking.  Address me as Trent Fucking Lewin please.”             “Oh, I see.  How quaintly Canadian.”             “Do you know Hook?  Do you know Hookie?  Tell me right now you fucker!”             Doorman looks confused.  Tries…

Home

The Distance and the Damage

              I am your boy, he said to the photograph at the end of the hallway.  Woodboards creaking, he leaned his head on the wall beneath the picture.  Put his hand on the glass of the frame.  Whispered words, the etching of a remembered prayer, the fragment of a stray…

Culpepper Pipe

Culpepper Pipe: One Version of Many

<<<Hi all, apologies for not having visited of late, I have been travelling like mad.  Below is a new story with a couple points of view (one Kate, one Mark).  I originally wrote the Kate parts and handed them over to Shards (http://shardsofdubois.wordpress.com/2014/06/01/culpepper-pipe-a-strange-collaboration-of-sorts/; her version is posted under this link) and Mark (http://markpaxson.com/2014/06/01/the-thunder-had-gone/; his version…

Machinarium

Bot

       “Excuse me, but have you got a spot to plug in my dog?”        “No.  Be on your way.”  The broom handle chatted with the metal spindles at its end.  The scraping of steel against stone followed Jak as he and his dog walked down the street.      …

The Babysitting Solution to Ennui

            “Mickey, eat something.  Play a video game.  Go on a date.  Play a video game on a date.  Doesn’t matter.  Just do something, okay hun?”  Elia hands Mickey the keys.  “We’ll be back around 3.  Food will be here around 5.  Okay hun?  Don’t get bored.  Take care of the kids.  Stay cool.”            …

Untouchable

       Daya rubs her feet.  With a steel sponge, she grinds off the grime.  The heat loosens the black stuff and brings up smells of diesel, refuse, burnt wood.  When she is done, she turns to her hands.        Her father Jawarlahal shifts in the bed and moans.  One of his…