Category Archives: fiction

Blood Transfusion

Zeno lost the tip of his left pinky in a collision with an entitled birth mother ramming a high end Aprica stroller through a lovely park in Beverly Hills. He skinned his knee too but that’s no big deal. She … Continue reading

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A Tasteful Song and Dance

Little Michael Jackson all grown up was making a cameo appearance in the spotlight back home where he used to get a good whipping on his behind. He waved his white glove in a graceful arc above his conked head … Continue reading

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The Seating Chart

Steve was wearing his hair slicked back and a bashful bow-tie, but trying to be cocky yet vulnerable. The main event was still fourteen minutes away according to the imposing atomic clock on the table and he was jumpy. No … Continue reading

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The Pen Is Not Mightier

Zeno had a vision in primary colors, not a dream. It occurred a few days before he was due to be sentenced to the minimum security federal penitentiary at Lompoc, California. The horse trading had concluded and the deal was … Continue reading

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Coming In From The Cold

  The Kid was trying to emerge out of static but found only fuzz, buzz, crackle, whir. No matter how he twisted and leaned, the shifty pirate radio station located somewhere near Ukiah that played all night music from the … Continue reading

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Hot and Cold Running

      Impresario Steve Wynn was not easy to satisfy. Big leading to bigger was only a beginning between more to come. But, he was temporarily satisfied so far. The view from the penthouse suite atop his ground-breaking Mirage … Continue reading

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Kant Say

     The Kid was hoofing it back to his car through a concrete tunnel that smelled like dog shit, cat piss, rancid cooking oil, and the original adobe bricks pitched as weapons against the carbine carrying conquistadors. He was … Continue reading

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A Croupy Toot

     It was no time for levity. The atmosphere was much too dry. It was no time for fiddle faddle or pussy footing either. That weak shit was so over. But, make no mistake. It was time. The waxed … Continue reading

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Blowing

     The Kid was afraid but he refused to admit it. He held tight to the wheel with both hands. Even years later he could not bring himself to admit it. That would be the same as conceding defeat. … Continue reading

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Banh Mi Me To The End Of The Line

  The 148th version of the Columbus Day Parade in San Francisco started out from Fisherman’s Wharf under a muddle of grey clouds that mimicked slate smeared by an eraser. The forecast called for a gradual clearing by the time the … Continue reading

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