Crumbling Asphalt

My libido is a cluster of seaweed caught between mechanical halves.

Little Green Worms Part 1

My intention was to write an exquisite, precise, highly-calibrated account of the time I arrived at a therapy appointment covered with little green worms. It was to be written in the 1st person with little parenthetical flourishes and jokes. It would build to a breathless climax and end with an ironic punchline. But almost everything…
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Schmeckled!

“Why did you hang up on me?” the woman on the phone says. Her voice sounds familiar. It has a metallic ring. Like scraping aluminum with a coin. “I didn’t hang up on you,” I say, which is true. I don’t know what she’s talking about. I grow nervous. There is sudden suspense in the…
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Sit On It!

The Hood had a ducktail. He slathered an entire tube of Brylcreem on his head every morning. He carried a comb. The Hood preferred to stand at the back of gatherings. He always wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans. He wore a leather jacket to intimidate the villagers. He rode a motorcycle for the…
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“These tales are visionary in a bottom-of-the-barrel pornographic way….” –Vickie T. Split, Abraxas Headache
“Kirton’s stories eke out feelings akin to warm red gelatin….” –Bruce Cloverleaf, Buff Spill Reviews
“These stories really hit you over the head with subtlety....” –Paul Gonk, Fossilized Prose Agenda
“I was relieved to read them….” –Garth Umberger III, Shoe Leather Surprise