Spencer Tyrell was already late for work at the Cinnabon when he killed that pigeon. His ratty Adidas pumped BMX pedals all the way up the boardwalk back to his old hood, now the upscale part of T-Beach. He squinted into the salty breeze, dodging open cracks where the sun baked open the asphalt like [...]
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Becky and the Back Door
Becky woke me up about a quarter to 7 in the am (again). She was a cocktail of drunk and coked-out (again) on her way over for early-Sunday-morning NSA deep-dicking (again). If I had any feelings left for her after the last 2 years, I’d be concerned about her sliding off the side of the [...]
About Orphans
A humble but cozy place where unconnected short tales brought in from the cold can sit together and warm their frozen unloved fingers while hoping for a second cupful of thin broth.
