Short Fiction
from The Tiger's Cage (2009)
In many ways, Pulchino is the opposite of gadon123. Impulsive, quick witted, daring, gadon123 is fast where Pulchino is slow, wild where Pulchino is deliberate. Of course, gadon123 is also prone to appalling vulnerabilities and dreadful mistakes. I’ve always assumed gadon123 is much younger than Pulchino. But other than an intimate knowledge of how gadon123’s mind works, developed over five years of consistent play, I know literally nothing about this person. Perhaps gadon123 is Chinese, like the web site we play on, but there is an equal chance he or she is not. After all, I’m not Chinese—I found the site through Google, years ago. Read More >
from Blame Someone (2007)
The woman in front of Red shuffles literally three inches forward. Literally three inches. Look at that, sweetheart, you’re halfway home already. The man at the front of the line is now leaning on the empty ticket counter with both forearms, head bobbing left and right. Keep that up, it’s definitely helping the process. Red rubs his face and takes a single step back. And who are you to judge? Just because you’ve never had a late issue in the ten years you’ve been running the magazine? Running, of course, being expressly different from being in charge officially. Or financially. Or acknowledged in any measurable way. So perhaps your sole qualification for judging is the unspeakably naive belief that other people should take their work as seriously as you take your own superfluous job. But even leaving such philosophical musings for the useless pansies in academia, there’s still the screaming need for some kind of plan here at the airport. For at least the recognition that designed systems function better than random accumulations of materials and humans. For the radical refusal to accept everything exactly as it is right now.
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from Pineapple Upside Down Cake (2005)
“I’ll tell you why I’m so happy, though.” Jim carefully fit the circular O-ring down over the hole, the protruding screws jutting up through two perforations in the wax. “I’m getting out of this bullshit maintenance game—I been teaching myself how to be a tailor.” He nodded and worked the seal into a tight fit with the tile floor, his experienced fingers applying firm pressure around the circle. “I got myself this old sewing machine, been working on it nights for a couple years now.” Read More >