Mouth like Bukowski

An old Poem of mine: Mouth like Bukowski The sun crept up behind the tree line we rose like zombies from the grave cotton mouthed and disappointed just another day of errant madness slaving to make filthy men rich instead of rich men filthy

Out with a Fang (a Small Bastard Story)

Edwin Quay, AKA “Deadwin,” has never felt so good. He hasn't smiled this wide and pure in all his long and sordid years. Pure might be a stretch—let's say manic. He screams a meaty, wet scream and feverishly slaps the steering wheel of the 1970 Cadillac Hearse (that he stole fair and square) to the … Continue reading Out with a Fang (a Small Bastard Story)

2016: Death and Soup

I know, I know, "where have you been?!?" all four of you ask. Well, I'll tell you! I've been secretly working on a government project to enable squirrels to run completely across the road instead of stalling halfway then pretty much actively seeking death. So far it's been a rip-roaring failure. Squirrels just don't get it, … Continue reading 2016: Death and Soup