Archive for the ‘Short Stories’ Category

Charles Hemingway von Liechtenstein had never really been a man of consistency. When he was younger it seemed perfectly normal: All the boys wanted to be firemen one day and astronauts the next. The difference between Charles and the other boys was that his flippancy did not wither with age.

“It’s simple really,” Charles would say, “I like change.”

That is why, at thirty seven years of age he was sitting in the waiting room for his one hundred and fifth visit to a temporary placement agency. They didn’t know him as a regular at the Thomas Avenue location of Labor Empowerment Inc., which greatly increased his likelihood of finding a new position. (more…)

Most people would be content after receiving a plea-bargain that asked for a testimony of no-contest. Since I am not most people, I am sitting outside of the courtroom on the day of my sentencing writing an apology letter. Do I say that I am an innocent bystander who was wrapped into an inescapable wave of crime that let to the destruction of dozens of citizens’ property or do I own up to my excessive participation? I don’t want to lie so I go with a combination of both:

I wasn’t sure what I was doing in the back seat of my car, going to my friend’s ex-girlfriend’s house.

Well, it was true that I didn’t know exactly what to be prepared for. We had just been hanging out like any other Tuesday night when we decided to drive up to Mountain Ridge. Rob’s ex did live there, but he couldn’t drive yet so John grabbed the keys to my car because he knew the way. Our unassuming tour of the well-off neighborhood took a turn for the worse when Rob saw another guy’s car in his ex’s driveway. John and Futch were both sympathetic to his quandary as they exclaimed, “That bitch.” (more…)

Jason shot himself in the head. He always said he was going to do it, but he finally went and did it. He used the gun that he bought at Tim’s Guns and Liquor down on Seventh Street. The six shot revolver was almost entirely brushed chrome.

I never believed that he would actually follow through. He had called me in the sixth grade after he jumped out of a second story window and busted his knee. I interrupted his attempted hanging freshman year, and even pulled his arms out of the warm red water a month afterwards. His stomach was pumped two years later when he swallowed 60 doses of aspirin. Only Jason knew how many other times he had attempted, but failed, to extinguish his own life. In our senior year of high school Jason told me that he supposed God wasn’t ready for him yet. The time wasn’t right, the situation wasn’t perfect. (more…)

Kevin wonders why he is in this earth-crevice looking for her lousy bracelet. He hadn’t always admired her, but his love had flourished in secret. When she discovered his intentions, she was not as receptive as he had assumed. He believed that he could prove to her the lengths to which his love reached by recovering this trinket.

In his teens, his friends called him a “chubby chaser” and a “whale watcher,” but they didn’t understand. The current object of his affection is not only a large woman, which has its benefits, but she has not been burnt by life’s scorching flames. He knew she is not like the other women who had burnt him. She is young and full of vitality. (more…)

Nick was visibly concerned as Amy dragged him into the party. He preferred to close himself in his room and read a good book. Amy was never satisfied staying home on Friday nights. They seemed to be diametrically opposed, but had formed a close friendship.

Amy was tragic and seemed closed off to most people, but her darkly painted eyelids would widen with anticipation when he would knock on her door. Dark black hair flew behind her like a glorious medieval cape as she ran to the entrance of her house. She would hide her grin and let him in, pretending that she could have cared less if he had paid her a visit or not. Pushing him into her room she would ask him why he had come over. Secrets, desires, and mistakes from the day were all discussed after she shut the door to their sanctuary. Some times she would cry, other times she would laugh, but she would always give him a bear-hug before letting him leave. (more…)

The first time I heard “Slow Motion” by Third Eye Blind I was at my best friend’s apartment and we were contemplating the relationship value of television. Jimmy was a cold-hearted stoner and desired nothing more than to prove that society had forced us into a little box. He believed that the box we were being forced into consisted of 525 colorful scan lines that are now represented with 720 by 480 pixels in current digital formats. Jimmy refused to own a television or a computer. They were tools of Satan, if there was such a being.

Come to think of it, Jimmy would be pissed at me writing this. Ever since South Park came out with the Jimmy, the “special child” he has insisted on being called Jim. He figured he was more dignified than to share that name with a retard. Jim was pretty dense, not thinking there were other retards named Jim. But we could only razz him to a certain point. If he got too pissed, he would stop sharing his bud. None of us wanted to pay for our own weed, so we had to patronize Jim every once and a while. (more…)