The Crooner

The Crooner sat alone in his dressing room. He’d draped an old, stained tablecloth over the mirror and had unscrewed most of the light-bulbs around the frame. Dressing room lights were always too bright and the mirrors captured too many hard memories. He wore his life on his face. He lifted a pint of whiskeyContinue reading “The Crooner”

Buried Skeletal Remains

The Day Before Thanksgiving I am tromping across a frozen swamp this morning, foraging for scatterberries. The gunmetal gray sky is loaded with unreleased snow. It’s predicted to begin lavishing deep inches of the powdery stuff over the whole region today. The heavy hush and stillness that precedes a snowstorm always strikes a rhapsodic chordContinue reading “Buried Skeletal Remains”

The Peptic Lethargy of the Urban Werewolf

There was a tiny nagging snag at the back of Ben’s brain that the werewolves at the Gubbio, Ohio McDonald’s were hairy hallucinations brought on by his black-market baldness remedy.   He’d been swallowing this new drug called Talbexia Arpablast, a supposedly effective cure for male-pattern hair loss. It had not been fully tested or approvedContinue reading “The Peptic Lethargy of the Urban Werewolf”

Imagining the Ordinary

It started with the teabags, but before that. It’s hard to be certain when an adventure really begins but if I had to stick a pin into a point and make a mark, it wouldn’t be with the worms, it would be with the teabags. Memories bleed into dreams. Or is it the other wayContinue reading “Imagining the Ordinary”

Violets and Gasoline

It started before the stabbing began. Paleontologists were puzzled by the ancient signs of aberrant behavior they discovered in the underwater tunnels but they had to follow the fossil evidence no matter the cost to humanity’s dubious reputation. Fresh scuba gear was distributed like missionary medicine to the five finalists. Then it was time toContinue reading “Violets and Gasoline”

Adipocere

The story begins…. Becky stood on the rocky shore listening to the edges of the ocean. The lap and scatter of small seaweed-laden waves. She’d hoped the sudden change in environment would loosen the choking, unremitting clench of her life. Therapy wasn’t going well. Her therapist (Nancy) suggested this trip. She (Nancy) said that gettingContinue reading “Adipocere”

Barbara Payton at the Purple Dandelion

And a disembodied narrator says:  He was in an LA club called The Purple Dandelion. It was 1967. Longhairs were dancing to the elastic music of The Chocolate Watch Band. He was sitting at the bar between a grubby little man who smelled of the street and Barbara Payton, who smelled of the street andContinue reading “Barbara Payton at the Purple Dandelion”