The PropositionIf your uncle yammers for hours about alcoholism, and how it fucked up the entire family, you don’t expect him to take you to a dive bar afterward. My uncle Henry did just that. Crazy Scorpio guy. Henry was obsessive and had the goods on everybody. The previous evening, he’d driven me around my grandmother Mildred’s neighborhood, pointing out the hidden skeletons behind every door. Mildred lived in the tony North Bay section of Racine, Wisconsin. She played bridge with Johnson Wax executives and voted a straight Republican ticket. Henry pulled up in front of the most expensive house on the block and idled for a full minute. “Real can of worms in this place,” he said, without elaborating. |
by Leah Mueller (1460 Words) 
The Manhattan... by Glenn Dettwiler | Flickr
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No Law Against It
thierry Ehrmann : il est interdit d'interdire | Flickr
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by Robert Kibble (1746 Words) “What do you mean, I’m out of credit? Already?” Jeb looked at the card, as if by looking it would become loaded again. As if it would turn from a purple ex-offender-release-credit card into one of the prized worker cards with their silver trim.
“Maybe, sir, you should get a job,” said the waiter, stepping towards the door. “What job? There are no stinking jobs.” “You won’t get anything out of him, Jeb,” said Ray. “Come on.” Ray put a hand on Jeb’s shoulder. “I was better off inside,” said Jeb, still staring at the card. “At least we got filling meals.” Ray pulled harder. “Well maybe you should have thought about that before you went before that parole board.” |
Traffic StopOkay, Officer, you know, ordinarily I’d be happy to give you my license and registration, because I’m a very law-abiding citizen, born right here in the U.S. of A, no questions about that—not that I have any issues with people coming into the country from other places because, you know, my grandparents all came over from Ireland, and my parents were born here, and so was I, which means there isn’t any question about me being legal and legit and all—oh, right, the license and registration, well, you see, this is kind of awkward because I don’t exactly have my purse with me right now, and this isn’t exactly my car—I mean, it’s not stolen or anything like that, it belongs to my boyfriend Jim, so I can drive it whenever and it’s totally okay with him, except maybe not so much right now because he’s with that slut—oh, shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to use that word, I don’t usually use bad language--that’s not ... |
by P. Jo Anne Burgh (1676 Words) 
Squad Car @ The Bridge by GunnerVV | Flickr
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Doggerel [ daw-ger-uhl ] adj. 1. (of verse) comic or burlesque, and usually loose or irregular in measure. 2. rude; crude; poor. |
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one tiny elephant
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