DEAR HOLLYWOOD (MY FACE BURNED OFF)….

….my new story, in today’s Metazen.

 

MRS. GLICK’S BEDSORE …

… my newest story. Read it in Punchnel’s.

 

MISS SOCIAL PLEASUREHOLE 1969…

… my newest story, can be found in issue 4 of Dragnet. Happy reading.

 

 

CANDY ISLAND

In case you’ve ever wondered, all us missing kids aged 2-6 wind up on Candy Island.

Candy Island SOUNDS great. But it ISN’T. It’s a big, scary island. There are lizards bigger than me. We lost three kids last week.

All day, every day, all we think of is HOW TO GET OFF CANDY ISLAND.

We tried building a boat. We found all these branches, made this huge pile. But none of us knew how to make them stick together. Jake’s dad’s a carpenter. He said maybe we’d need carpenter’s glue. But none of us had any of that.

I thought … if we made water shoes, we could just walk home. We could cut coconuts in half, and tie them around the bottoms of our sneakers. But none of us were strong enough to break open the coconuts. And then Madison disappeared. She was the only one who knew how to tie.

We even tried swimming. But the water got really deep, and we were scared of sharks. So we all swam back. Except for Parker. He just wouldn’t stop. We saw him sink down under the water – his head, and then his arm, and then his hand. We told Sarah he was just snorkeling, and he’ll be back someday, with pearls. I don’t think she bought it.

We’re all waiting. I’M waiting. For my parents. They’ve probably checked in the garage, and the closet, and under the bed by now. You’d think … they’d think to check Candy Island, too. When you’re looking for something, you can’t just check everywhere EXCEPT such-and-such a place. Cuz such-and-such a place is always where things wind up.

Maybe no one’s looking anymore. Maybe they just don’t care. Mom was pregnant. She could have another Billy by now. With blue eyes.

This was our last Coke bottle.

I hope somebody finds this.

Bye.

BENZO AND THE PANTIES

We call ourselves Benzo and the Panties. I guess you could say we’re struggling. Isn’t everyone? Not even the big names, like the Gadget Hands, or GEEEK, can afford to lie around all day, getting stoned. It’s tough, man. For everyone.

James is the lead. He came from kind of a broken home. His mom was religious. His dad was a gorilla. Every day he put on a gorilla suit, and skated around on roller skates downtown, waving around business signs. We used to practice in their basement. But when his dad skated home, and peeled off that monkey suit, holy shit. I mean, the smell was just epic – even from downstairs. He got run over by this crazed asshole. His mom joined a convent or something.

Royce plays the guitar. He’s probably the best thing we’ve got going. He’s got kind of that angry Mexican look, even though he’s not angry, or even a Mexican, I don’t think. But I know he knows Spanish, cuz he talks to the janitor.

I’m the bassist. I was the last to join. They had an audition, and even though I didn’t play the bass, I was the only one who showed. So I pawned my moped, and learned to play bass on weekends. There’s not much to it.

Our drummer is also named Ringo.

We haven’t played any real gigs yet. But we’re so ready. We know all the big songs. We’re writing our own songs now, too. Royce did one called “Bitchquick” that’s as good as anything they don’t play on the radio.

I guess my biggest fear is that things will fall apart. My parents got divorced. Nothing lasts anymore. James keeps talking about a welding course. Royce is in prison.

Man, if I didn’t have the band, I don’t know what I’d do. Probably get stoned all day. Wind up like my old man. He’s the President.

 

SPLENDID DOGS

Had a wife. Lost her. Got another one. Lost that one, too.

Got a dog. A black dog with white spots. Splendid dog. Got a second splendid dog with black spots. Walked them around and around the block. Got a new blue jacket with lots of buttons. Splendid buttons. Every night walk around and around the block with my splendid dogs and splendid coat with the twelve buttons.

Am I happier than the other lone men, with their splendid dogs, and dozen-button jackets?

Well, I’ve never asked them. If they’re happy or not.

Tinsel! Tinsel! Crumb!

THE INHERITANCE

God pulled mom up through the ceiling. Her necklace fell down and her white dress floated down. Nothing else came down.

I put on mom’s dress and her gold necklace. There’s two stools in the living room, I pushed the one stool into the bathroom and stood on it and looked in the mirror. I looked like my mom but littler. My hair was messier. The dress looked pretty big. I looked like the egg yellow in the middle of a spread-out egg.

Then I got down and pushed the stool back to the living room. Then I sat the other stool on top of it. Then I put two pillows on top of that. When my tower’s done I can climb up through the ceiling too.

I am not scared. I just really miss my mom.

ROBOTS ENTERED MY UNIT

Robots entered my unit. I was … sleeping. Like a child, I was sleeping. I was a child.

I had just lain down. Having finished my milk. Having brushed my teeth with the cream-white paste.

I will never be the same.

I lay down, in bed. Pulling … the white sheet, over me. The cream-white sheet. Smiling. Sleeping.

I will never, no, be the same.

Downstairs, a window, opened. I slept. This is … how it must have been. They came in. Knocking over, a milk bottle. (In my sleep turning.) Climbing, the stair. (In my sleep turning and turning.) Opening, the door. My bedroom door. (Turning.) Standing, shadows, in the door.

And then …

Robots entered my unit.

My eyes, on the white pillow, opened. As they entered my unit. I wished – to scream. But did nothing. As they entered. I could not, scream. As they entered my unit. One, another. My unit entering. Again … and again.

The hours. The hours. The sun.

They left my unit, one by one. Descending, the stair. Averting the bottle, the glass bottle, of milk. Lifting, the window. Vanishing.

In my quiet room lying.

In my quiet … room.

I will never, be the same.

THUMBS

I cut off my thumbs off. That began my battle with having no thumbs.

I cut with my right hand my thumb of my left hand off. Then I told Nancy, Cut off my other thumb but she called the hospital. So I tried I weaved the knife between my fingers and cut my thumb of my right hand off. That was slow and hurt more. I cried, Nancy I’ve got no thumbs. Then I fell over.

I didn’t appreciate until I didn’t have thumbs. Doors closed. I could close doors but not open them. I got trapped in the bathroom.

Then the woman politician said, A man like you should have thumbs. She made noises till they gave me thumbs that clip on. I love them but they smell rubbery. Nancy says they’re Asian thumbs, but to me they’re thumbs.

I am a happy man.

 

ELEVATORS!

I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE elevators. They go up and down. They go up and they come down. I LOVE pressing the button. You press it – and then it turns red! Nothing else that I press ever turns red. You step in. No – then the door opens, then you step in.

Can I tell you where West 42nd Street is? No! But I appreciate that you would talk to me, too, man!

I can never tell when the elevator’s stopped moving. People tell me so I don’t have to tell me. I feel like I’m moving! It’s the beautiful mystery of life!

Oh when I go home I am broken. There’s no elevators! My brain falls down. I’m crying. But – when I wake up again I am happy again. Because somewhere, there’s an elevator.