Sock ‘em. Fry ‘em. Slap ‘em. Tap ‘em. Nick ‘em. Taste ‘em. Taunt ‘em. Share ‘em. Lick ‘em. Bake ‘em. Serve ‘em. Stain ‘em. Do-whatever-you-want-with ‘em. But not before reading ‘em. After that, after they’ve claimed your soul, do as you wish. Go ahead and try. The stories will never let you go. Hasta pronto, amigos.
– Also, I had always thought Germans didn’t know God. I grew up hating them because of the stories mother told me about Hitler and how he slaughtered six million Jews, God’s own people. They have churches here though but they are mostly orthodox. You know they say we Igbos are descendants of Abraham. That’s why we are so wise and prosperous. – Samuel Oluwatosin Kolawole in Sentinel Literary Quarterly
– “So you don’t know what you’re talking about?” At some point she realized that Test Guy was delivering his barbs staring directly into her nipples. It was as if he had come from a planet where eye-to-nipple contact was the established norm. The unbridled rudeness of it so shocked her that she initially questioned what she was seeing. Or maybe it was something about her: were her nipples blinking, had they sprouted thorns? And then she realized: oh, this was the experiment. From that point forward, it seemed no big deal. But now, at three in the morning, still trying to process her surfing, with the cool office air grazing her skin, and her thin nightgown offering scant protection, it was palpably giving her the creeps. – Dennis Kaplan in Eclectica
– Enter the mystery character: a retired cop with the hard-to-die habit of cruising town with an old patrol scanner. That is how one afternoon he left his living room and flew, fought for our futures with a steady one and two and three and rhythm. He bolted that premature tunnel shut. – Deanna Larsen in kill author
– The other night during sex Dylan said, “Oh my God,” in a way that was not necessarily good, and I just kept thinking oh no oh no until he said finally, “The cat is watching us.” I looked up and saw her in the corner, waving her forelegs around in the air. I told him that we should just ignore her, maybe let her figure things out on her own. But he freaked out and went home, and the next day my cell phone rang while I was writing at a coffee shop and I felt like I should apologize for my cat. “She does that sometimes,” I said to Dylan. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” – Richard Larson in pax americana
– Sure, I’m into Carverquest. I admit that. I mean I keep out of the wank circles and I don’t really post on comms much. I’ve just been in fandom for fucking ever, so everyone knows me and knows my Journal. Nick’s Diner, they call it. All the greasy, bad-for-you Carverquest content you never knew you wanted until it’s served with a steaming hot cup of sarcasm. People tell me stuff. It’s awesome. – Sam Starbuck in Fiction Circus