FRESH AUDIO – THE ANGEL LADY

The wonderful audiobook narrator Xe Sands has recorded a rendition of my recent flash fiction, The Angel Lady. You’ll find it over at the Going Public Project. Slip on your headphones, and listen.

 

 

THERE’S A SWAN IN MY SCROTUM

When I was younger my younger brother found a duck nest and picked out one egg. Then the mother bit him in the kneecaps and the rectum but her beak got stuck. He squeezed her out like he was shitting and some shit came out. Then he stomped on the nest and ran home with egg guts on his shoelaces.

He didn’t know what to do with the egg when he got home so he inserted it into my sleeping penis, and worked it down into my scrotum. When I woke up he told me.

Why would you do that? I asked him.

Eggs have to stay warm, he answered. My brother has autism.

I was so careful then. I had to protect my scrotum. I had to cover my scrotum whenever my brother walked by. I felt too guilty to masturbate.

Then I heard a crack one night and thought the egg had cracked. I imagined my balls rolling in egg yolk. But then I heard cheep cheep and a beak poked my scrotum. My brother climbed up the bunk ladder and said, Is it seven-thirty?

Over the next month the duckling got bigger and bigger. I couldn’t wear boxers because my balls would fall out, just my dad’s old blue gitch and my black joggers. At school I got teased but I also got more popular with gays.

The duckling grew huge fast. Its wingspan was huge. When I took a shit it bobbed in my balls on the water. It didn’t quack, it made these wacky sounds.

My mom looked online and said, Evan?

Yeah, I said.

It’s not a duck.

What is it? I asked.

A swan, she said proudly.

So I’m proud it’s a swan and not just a dumb duck. I’m proud of my swan even though it ate my nuts. I’ll never be a father, but I’ll be its father forever. It’s going to be a beautiful animal.

Life is kind of shitty, but it can be beautiful, too.

 

                                                                                                   

First published in Heavy Feather Review

ROBOTS ENTERED MY UNIT…

Alas. Read about it.

 

 

 

 

THE SOFT ROOM

Okay. One time I was wheeling down the hallway at the Rehabilitation Center, waiting for my dad to pick me up. He usually goes for coffee across the street till I’m finished my exercises.

There was an open door that’s normally closed, I went through it down another hallway that was darker. I turned once, and just before the second turn I saw one half of a long glowing window in the wall that went down almost to the floor. There was a man and woman standing in front of the window, looking through it. They seemed pretty worried and caring like parents. As I moved closer I could see more of the window, and a man in a lab coat standing beside an empty wheelchair. He was looking through the window too, and sometimes writing something on a clip-board.

This was all none of my business, but I was curious, so I went closer. The people didn’t seem to notice me. They were talking about something in quiet voices, I just wheeled up quietly behind them until I could see in the window, too.

It was a big white room. There were lights, but not much else. The walls and floor were all white foam. There was a guy, maybe ten years older than me, with a beard, on the floor. He was just rolling around on the floor groaning. All he seemed to be able to do was roll. If he came up to a wall he just kicked it or flailed against it. Then he rolled the other way.

The mother said, “I really think this will help with his rage.” Then she waited a while and said slowly, “If only he’d had this when he was younger. He really could’ve used this. Things would’ve been … so different.”

The father shook his head, but didn’t say anything. Then he said, quietly, “No. They wouldn’t've, Helen. They wouldn’t've one bit.”

Then the man with the clipboard looked at me. He was about to say something I think, but I just kept going around the corner like I had somewhere to be. Also, I felt sick to my stomach and wanted to at least get to a water fountain.

The empty wheelchair was sitting next to a door. As I passed by it I looked up. The sign on the door said “The Soft Room.”

I’ve always thought I’d be a happier kid if I’d never seen the Soft Room.

 

 

THE DROWNED WOMAN

She lay there. He came into the room.

 

“Tea?”

 

“Yes,” she said.

 

 

An empty cup sat between them.

 

He seemed to keep drinking.

 

 

“You’re staring.”

 

He leaned forward.

 

“Can you do something for me?”

 

He was solemn.

 

“Can you promise me something?”

 

She laughed.

 

She stopped laughing.

 

“You ask me. You always ask.”

 

“I’m asking again.”

 

She laughed again.

 

“Please?”

 

She ran her hand, through her damp hair.

 

“I won’t even know it’s happening. You won’t. It will happen so slowly again. Again, and again. It will happen.”

 

“Please.”

 

 

Her green dress.

 

 

She stood up. She was unsteady. Feeling her way. Making her way, to the door.

 

He seemed to keep drinking.

 

She opened the door.

 

The waves were breaking.

 

He turned his head.

 

The edge, of her green dress.

 

 

He stood up. He was unsteady.

 

He moved to the doorway. Feeling his way.

 

Then he walked out the door.

 

 

CHERRIES…

A new story about fumbling love, and the brotherhood of the Pointillists. Read it here.

 

 

THE WHITE CAT

The crystallized version of a familiar feline. Examine it here.

 

 

I AM A NIGHTINGALE

The crystallized version of familiar bird. Examine it here.

 

 

THE SEVEN LIONS

A new story. About … the terrible sea. Read it.

 

 

AN UNUSUAL PAIR …

… of new stories today. One for grownups, about a robotic cat, and one for children, about a solitary gum bubble. My only hope is that, if you enjoy them, you’ll leave ecstatic comments on their respective sites.