It started with the occasional busker. Upturned fedoras with a few coins shining against the velvety lining. No great movement at first. It was pleasant to hear Bach floating through the thoroughfares while folks ran errands. A little Vivaldi ear candy here and there. Splendid overtures of audible opulence. But soon, territories were claimed, and … Continue reading Random Acts of Violins__Itty Bitty Bastards № 3
An old man sat on a park bench, smiling. “How doodeedoo!” he cackled as I approached. “What’s got you so happy, old man?” I asked. “I’m dyin’ boy. Gotta get it out of my system,” he sighed, then forced a throaty hoot. “Why’s that?” "Cuz I have a notion they frown upon happiness where I'm … Continue reading Last Laugh__Itty Bitty Bastards № 2
There’s a door at the end of the hall marked with an eight. Sofia doesn’t like to look at it, or think about it, or tell anyone that the number reminds her of the eyes of the swaying man...
In celebration of the (in my opinion) best month of the year, I have teamed up once again with the brilliant artist Justin Weingartner, to bring you all a micro-fiction offshoot of my series, Small Bastard Stories™️. On each Monday and Friday of the month, Justin and I will post one of the wee bastards we've concocted, all leading up to a (BIG) Small Bastard Story on the Sovereign Holiday: Halloween.
Kyle's unhappy, unfulfilled, and genuinely ready to punch his own ticket. Would he? Should he? Could he? The answer is no. Why? Read on...
Everyone knows that a dog is man's best friend. But what if that "man" is actually the head of the limp-dick Ratzi regime? That's right, I'm talking about Shitler.
How many bad ideas have started with “just trust me, okay?”? Felix is about to find out as he follows his crush, Heather, and her friends through a Gravenfrost cemetery during a full moon.
This special Small Bastard Story is hauntingly joined by breathtaking art by Justin Weingartner!
Hellmo: a Small Bastard Story. Eternal damnation takes many forms. But in the case of Mr. Strudel, it's in the shape of a bright red, furry adversary, who brings him nothing but terror and humiliation.
“You catch the finale of The Baritones last night?” Ed asks, up-ending a bag of chip crumbs into his mouth. “Nah, I was at my kid's recital,” I say with a shrug. I like Ed. Of all the guys here, I think he and I are the most on the same page. He's a family … Continue reading Hench