by DIEGO LAMA (translated by ROSE FACCHINI)
Tweet by wonderferret | Flickr
It had been night for several hours. Lucio and Arturo were sitting silently in the big, deserted park.
Lucio finished his bottle of wine. He hurled it a long way off, toward a bush, and missed.
“Fuck you,” he muttered, but not to the bush. Then he stretched out on a bench, covered himself with a newspaper, and closed his eyes.
“Night,” he mumbled to Arturo.
“Fuck you,” Arturo responded. Lucio was already sleeping.
For a few minutes, Arturo stood watching the stars, listening to the sounds of the park: a faraway cricket, leaves rustling in the wind, Lucio snoring. Then, all of a sudden, a blinding flash illuminated the hedges. Arturo looked up while Lucio continued to snore.
An enormous golden spaceship descended from the sky, landing gently in front of the bench. A large hatch opened and an all-powerful alien emerged.
by TIM HILDEBRANDT
Advice for Submitting to Literary Magazines
in the Coming Totalitarian Dystopia
Daniel Paul, McSweeney's
Summer Reading / Santi Garcia- Flickr
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