Month: June 2017

It’s Not Delivery, It’s DiGiorno

I loitered behind the liquor store and exposed my severed penis to tweens begging for beer. Before that I snorted bath salts and flakka in front of a Domino’s delivery driver. Before that the pregnancy test confirmed what we expected—life was backwards. Before that, under duress, I signed divorce papers smeared with melted mozzarella. Before that my wife threatened my scrotum with rusty scissors meant for cutting slices of DiGiorno Rising Crust Supreme Pizza. Before that Señor Pepperoni snuggled flaccid inside crusty pajamas, bourbon bulbous moonshine oozing into our bedroom, an atavistic inertia of snores and subtle whimpers from...

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My father and I tour Middle, where children and stepfathers and wives hurriedly exit from their beds. My brother Albert lives in Middle, where people do not wish to live in the semi-rural area next to it. They prefer a suburban dog/cat infestation. While we drive, we see a festival with freaks selling oranges and Captain Jack t-shirts. The freaks—two-faced ladies, hypocritical pornographers, astute stamp collectors, Indonesian spelling bee winners, infrared gamma ray strip teasers who are currently unemployed—say, “you can do your laundry here.” Into their machine I throw my purse, vitamin C pills, and leftover Prozac, which...

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Only Sky Above and Below

The bounce house cut loose from the earth, long metal stakes zippering from the ground in a staccato of dirt clods. It soared into the space where the sky used to be. Trees dipped in the wind while parents watched silently, balancing clear and dark drinks in their hands. Some of them turned their gaze to the ground. Others stared toward the hollow corona of the sun. Most closed their eyes altogether. One mother raised her hand, and the roar of the wind was so loud that no one heard the ice cubes clinking in her glass. *** The...

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