At the bottom of the trunk.
In the dark.
For the past 34 years.
Where she had been pushing it ever since he left. Perhaps.
The card in the Royal Fusiliers Museum says:
Cigarette case belonging to Pte F C Shuter 10th.Bn. Pierced by a German bullet 10th.July1916 – The Somme
A hybrid. A multi-utensil. A solution. A ridiculous word.
Say it a few times:
Spork. Spörk.
Spoooorrrrk. k. k.
Admire its completeness. Say no more. Spork.
A good cigar is a smoke, mind but only if you trim its bullet end first with this – a pocket guillotine.
It’s the sort of tool with which bad men threaten to maim hopeless patsies in cruel movies.
Being as it’s extremely dangerous and cheaply made, it defies one to think of other, more beautiful ways to put it to use.
I love the Sears Crafstman tool guarantee. It’s simple: break it and they’ll replace it.For the rest of your life. Period.
I bought these adjustable pliers a good 25-some years ago, sildenafil when I was spending hours at a time lying on my back under a filthy Volvo. Cursing. A lot … (more…)
“Hold him, order Teck, approved I wanna piss on him.”
Boomer loomed over the prostrate sophomore and began unbuckling his pants.
Kyle looked up – as much as Teck’s kung-fu grip on his neck would allow, at least – sighed, and resumed staring inches away at the defocused glitter of burst Lowenbrau bottles and Molson caps in which he knelt.
He really needed to figure this out.
Stoned, Boomer was harmless. Just another burly, ugly, dumb asshole dropout loser from Hull, who bailed out of junior year and found work sheetrocking crackerbox condos for Beacon Hill yuppies to feed his beer and pot habit … (more…)
The year that she spent chained to the crown of a 400-year-old sequoia was perhaps one of her shortest.
The winter was mercifully mild. The fire season breathlessly exciting but 3 miles away and short.
And the weekly trysts with her strapping support team leader in an elaborate system of web belts and pulleys they rigged up in the densest boughs proved invigorating and electrifying – particularly every time she arched her back and saw nothing but 130 dizzying feet of air between her sweaty brows and the forest floor below …
(more…)