Stories

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The “I Love Everbody” Tour Diaries
Maggie Estep

We’re leaving on tour in a few hours. Me and Pat and Julia will ride in Julia’s big black truck and Steve and Keith, the Road Manager, will ride in the “Boy Car,” a little white rental car. It’s not deliberate gender division, just worked out that way.

Steve likes to drive at the speed limit and make very few stops. Us girls like to go 90 miles an hour, pee every 40 minutes and go to malls we find along the way. Neither Pat, Julia or I grew up around malls, so we’re making up for that now.

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Lambs to the Laughter
Anonymous

I have the kind of mind that would kill me if it didn’t need me for transportation. In this case to Ireland. I had no conscious desire to go anywhere near the place but somehow I found myself sucked into the subway, placed on a plane and bundled onto a bus for Kilkenny. Before I… Read more »

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Afro-Surreal Excerpt
D. Scot Miller

Let me tell you how I met Sham Black. West Virginia, Dunbar Jr. High School football field, 123rd Annual Commode Bowl, Riverside Rats versus The Hillside Rams. photograph by Kym Ghee Every Thanksgiving morning the men of Dunbar, on both sides of the railroad tracks that split through the town (Riverside and Hillside) begin to… Read more »

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The Year of Our Lord Quetzalcoatl
Margarita Shalina

The morning of the first day in the Dark Zone, I wake, still dreaming in black and white. I am Joan Crawford. I am Mildred Pierce. In the black of night, a storm is raging. I am in a bungalow by the ocean. The white foam waves crash on the beach. I dress frantically in… Read more »

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The Earring
Alan Kaufman

I first saw the gold crescent of renegade freedom dangling from the lobe of a nameless hairy hippy Goy, his scrawny, insolent neck bound by a red bandanna. He leaned with outthrust hip of impertinent American coolness against the miniature white plaster-like Arc D’Triumph that looms in meager solemnity over the leafy green, daggered streetlamps… Read more »

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Ballad of a Lousy Husband
Joshua Mohr

I should probably tell you more about the night Blue pushed me off the bar because that was really when our marriage ended. Sure, we stayed together another nine, twelve, maybe  fifteen months more, but nothing was ever good again. She stopped thinking it was possible to make me a man, thought that I was… Read more »

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Caravaggio, Baby
Deborah Pintonelli

I have a date with Henry Henderson. We worked together one long summer canvassing for Greenpeace. Yes, I was one of those annoying young people who stop you on the street when you are rushing to your next appointment. He was hot then, now not so much, looking rather fat but with a very good… Read more »

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1971
Celia Farber

Anyway I had a goldfish, a common Woolworth’s goldfish, which I brought home in a water filled plastic bag, and somebody, a man named Rick, I think, who worked for my father, said it would be safe to place him in a concrete planter on the terrace, filled with water.

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Gladyss of the Hunt
Arthur Nersesian

“Gladyss! Turn on the TV, quick!” “Hold on!” I muttered, having just been awakened from a sound sleep. Assuming it had something to do with my murder case, which my brother knew I was assigned to, I put on my glasses and flipped it on. “What happened?” I asked him groggily, nervous that the killer… Read more »

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Tambourine Man: Gene Clark – Part 13
Drew Hubner

When I awoke at dawn Gene Clark was driving and humming to himself. We’re going to take a side trip to see the folks, he said and then we have a show at Wayne State in Detroit. The car broke down; it would not go over thirty and the snow started again. Gene turned off… Read more »