Eric’s Last Stand_Rave On_A Criminal's Trait_Stue's Sleaze
Catalog Guide:
Eric’s Last Stand
Was this Eric’s last stand? He hoped not. But the past year made him think it might be. Eric stood before the one room cabin. It was his, a gift from Simon, his dying friend. Eric had never seen it before. Spiders had spun brocades under the eaves. He felt numb. That was an improvement over the despair he’d nurtured lately. Maybe numbness was something he could build upon, use as a springboard. Regardless, numbness would do for now. He’d heard, ‘nothing to be done,’ too often. The doctors said it about his late mother, before she passed. To Eric, the phrase had become a medical euphemism, ‘doc...
Rave On
I see the blood arc over the lemon just before the lights blink out all over. Pitch black. Sudden silence. Lola’s yelp is harsh. I jump to where the dishcloth should be, call out, “I’ve got the towel, keep it elevated, hold on, where are you?” I hear a slosh, a gulp and then another shriek. “I have lemon in the cut! Hurry! Maybe tequila too. I feel faint.” I bark at her to slide to the floor as I reach her, find her arm and wind the towel around her hand. “Stay here, I’m going to light a candle. Why is the stupid power out?” I stand, whack my head on the cabinet, find the junk drawer. Match...
A Criminal's Trait
This just in: "Criminal Porker Butch has been caught red-handed after trying to escape through Mr. Simon Salary's backyard," said the news rewww.onedoor.ccporter, speaking with certainty of these events. "His crimes for butchering 5 people have now been stopped and will be met with extreme punishment. Stay tuned to Scarlet's News. Now back to you, Charles." Cutting the TV off, Simon sighs deeply. Last night, a criminal had wandered into his backyard and cops who were already in the area were looking for him. Simon had heard noises outside and went to investigate. When he found the man hovering over a pat...
Stue's Sleaze
Fuck Stue. Molly leaned back in her chair, as the fluorescent lights above her flickered. She had seen him from the corner of her eye, shuffling his fat ass over to her cubicle. She had made it a point to not look his way, in the vain hope that if she didn’t, maybe he wouldn’t talk to her. She had ignored him up until his stomach was touching her backrest, and Molly could smell the scent of sour, stale crackers that always seemed to follow Stue for some reason. Even then, she only turned around when he tapped her shoulder. “Oh! Gosh Stue, sorry I didn’t see ya there,” she had said, an Oscar-w...