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Five Reasons Why I, the Asshole, Won't Be Telling You About the Bite I Got

8/22/2021

by PATRICK BARB

zombie-sign by Cindy Shebley | Flickr

Reason Number 1: Bite? Who said anything about a bite?

You know who I bet probably got bitten—that science guy, what’s his name, you know the one—the one with the eyes. What’s he doing in that room with the locks back there?

You know who likes to lock things up? People with secrets that’s who.

Don’t tell me you’re gonna sit here, and believe his story about how he’s “working on a cure” and how he “doesn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up,” or just take at face value his little warnings about how “exposure to others could taint the test subjects.”

Jesus Bread

8/7/2021

by ELLE MICHAEL RIVER

Bread of Life by Jaci XIII | Flickr

The buttered body of Christ bathed in Sunday sunlight upon a polished silver platter. I dropped the crystal cover on the vestry floor and stifled a cough. Dust stuck to the spines of old hymnals, the abandoned robes of dead choir members, and a set of forgotten advent angels. I eyed the golden goblet, half-filled with Christ’s cranberry blood, tempted by my tickling throat. Congregants never saw our church’s cluttered backstage unless Mrs. Patricia caught a hint of vibrato during the Call to Confession and drafted the unlucky soul into her obstreperous ensemble. Then, they were stuck with the secret: it’s all dust and dollar store cocktail back here.

If you hadn’t guessed, I was one of those unlucky souls.

Mary, my worst best friend, grabbed my hand but dropped it, embarrassed. We were twelve, almost thirteen.

Five Reasons Why I, the Asshole, Won't Be Telling You About the Bite I Got

Jesus Bread

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