Gorski and The Goat
On a urine-stained olive green cot in the back room of Rosalda’s Cantina in Ciudad Juarez, I came to. Blacked out. Again. A smell I couldn’t quite put a finger on. Rank breath, a muffled gurgle and what felt like whiskers. I hope not our hostess, or worse, one of her chicas.
Where The Lost Things Go
The circumstances involving those who wash ashore on Lost and Found Island are always mysterious and are never solved. I, for one, went to bed one night on a completely routine Wednesday and woke up sunburnt and salty on the sandy east shore of the island. I was found not long after by the other lost humans who inhabit the mysterious place. They came to the shore with goat-pulled trolley carts and filled them with the random debris that washed ashore. They collected the debris and took it, and me, to their village that was nestled in a grassy clearing. When the shock wore off, I spoke with them and learned that everything that gets lost in the world comes here to Lost and Found Island. This includes people.
How To Talk Small
It's my job to make small talk. I smile. I nod. I squint an understanding squint. Sometimes I mean it. Sometimes I don't. That's my job.
My name's Jack. It's nice to meet you.
Welcome to the fourth biggest, family oriented, entertainment destination in the north central upper third in the lower forty-eight without a mascot.
Ariadne
Ariadne, dressed sensibly. Sensible hat, sensible shoes, little white gloves, some said she was a very sensible girl. She was thirteen when all sensibility flew out the window. She laughs about it now. Those teenage years were difficult for a girl so sensible.
Julianne's Money
Being an escort for me was like being a scrapbooker on Etsy for most other single moms trying to pick up some extra money. The only difference was that I could make a few thousand bucks for one hour of potential discomfort versus making a few hundred for several hours of suffering through handmade clip art. I’m a pretty open-minded person, but I cannot for one second believe that there is any joy in being hunched over a desk, cutting and pasting other people’s memories together. It seems so lonely and juvenile.
The Ace
The door slammed. A photograph of the woman smiling surrounded by sons forcing theirs, fell to the floor. Glass shattered.
“He’ll be fine.”
“I’m not the guy.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
“He should.”
Financing Disappointment
At that moment, Lou had eight thousand-five hundred dollars to his name. Give or take the few bucks from his unemployment checks that would be left after trying to pay his credit card bills. Looking at the bank statement, it felt good having all of that money staring back at him. He didn’t want to ever spend it. But it was already as good as gone.
Lou drove to Goldberg Jewelers in Skokie and bought Michelle’s eight thousand-sixty-four dollar engagement ring.
“Congratulations,” said Art, shaking Lou’s hand.
“Thanks.”
In the parking lot by his car, Lou threw up.
Dog Day — A Dystopian Story
To combat a rabies epidemic, Chicago of the near future decides to enforce "Dog Day," whereby owners are forced to unleash their pets for 24 hours. The events of the day are seen thru the juxtaposition of animal and owner.
The Perfect Feminist
I knew what I was getting into when I married Marie. She was a kindhearted woman—sweet as they came. A staunch NPR listener. The kind of NPR listener that actually gave money.
...that, if taken through the lens of truck stops and gas stations throughout the Midwest, Reese’s has taken over the world.