Gravity

A panhandler with the woeful face of a Christian martyr in a medieval painting stops me outside the discount liquor store. He says he needs two more bucks to get a bottle. Marlene, he adds as if I know her, is resting with a beer and the dude that shot her whose nickname is Rabbit. Has anyone asked us how we see things? No! We’re all on the road. But now it’s really getting fun. I dig some change out of my pocket. There are only so many opportunities to take maximum advantage of gravity’s pull on people and objects.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

They Worked Together, In New York

"Most people are Virgos - know why?" I do. Nine months before September is commonly cold; nowhere to go but bed. The I.T. guy thinks he’s flirting but now I’m just picturing my parents.

We are so many, they economize. One cake only - sheet, naturally - with plastic balloons and red and blue frosting. Children’s cake. We begin to reveal our birth dates around the break room, and I fade away.

Later, the liquor store clerk pity-frowns at my I.D. "Man,” he says, “bet your birthday sucks.” I got nothing to add, except at least I’m around to celebrate it.

From Guest Contributor Vera Duffy

Vera is a semi-retired Mexican wrestler living in Los Angeles. Her work has appeared in Puppet Terror magazine and the L.A. Alternative Press.

An Alcoholic, A Nuclear Bomb

Fact: an atomic bomb was detonated 8.4 km from where Wally Kazinsky was repairing the toilet in a decent brothel. The brick house shivered violently from the blast, a few windows shattered. There’d been talk of an attack, and Wally considered the possibility. He grabbed his glass of scotch before he went to look out the window. His legs were wobbly. Maybe nervous, but definitely drunk.

People were crying, hurt, bleeding. Fuck. They were probably already bathed in radiation. Wally was dizzy but lucid enough. Time for emergency measures. He found his hammer, and headed to the corner liquor store.

From Guest Contributor Wil Wang