Category Archives: Fiction

Wayne got stuck being Mom’s main assistant. Junior mom. That’s probably why he never had kids, why he married a bitch who only wants to be served. I remember when he made his one strike for survival. I was 8 … Continue reading →

Yesterday I got another email from Aunt Ruth last week. I intended to answer it immediately but I couldn’t figure out what to say. So I gave it some time and as usual my intention faded. Now six days have … Continue reading →

Owen only got worse. He acquired the idea that he was doomed to alcoholism and suicide, like his mother and her father before her, even though he didn’t like to drink. His eating and sleeping slid even further off kilter, … Continue reading →

The end was as simple as catastrophe. When Owen was twenty-two, his mother went from the kitchen to the garage, got comfortable in the front seat of the car with a lumbar pillow and her favorite family picture, started the … Continue reading →

His life might have been different. If his mother hadn’t killed herself, Owen probably would have married, produced, and reproduced. Instead he labors alone. It’s not a bad life. He shrugs his shoulders when asked if he’s happy, twists his … Continue reading →

I knew we were headed for sex days before we did it. We chatted while we worked and we flirted while we chatted. So even though some of our conversation was about his wife and three kids and about my … Continue reading →

The first time I looked down at myself in a mirror I was snorting cocaine, and the view wasn’t bad. Sure I was gazing up my own nostrils, with a coiled $20 bill distended from one, but my skin was … Continue reading →

On top of those, there developed the issues of Kelly’s weight, Kevin’s headaches, and Peg’s bones. It’s obvious to me even if not to Dr. H that Kelly grew fat to irk Peg, and Kevin’s sport- and job-preventing headaches served … Continue reading →

Peg stayed home with Kelly only three weeks. Then she started part-time in my office. There was never any doubt that she’d be a responsible, caring, diligent mother. It was more a matter of feeling relatively unsuited. Peg wasn’t a … Continue reading →

Jim Whitehead at 23 was short, smart, and always horny. Sex was his favorite activity and he went for it every chance he got. When was the miracle age between the introduction of the Pill and the advent of AIDS. … Continue reading →