WORDCHASM

I used to be a normal person. I woke up around 6:45, took a 15 minute shower, ate a perfunctory breakfast of eggs and coffee, and rode the subway to work like everyone else. My routine never varied. My dedication to this schedule never wavered, never faltered. Even when small wrinkles were introduced -abnormal weather patterns, chatty neighbors, invasive girlfriends- I would function like clockwork. My routine...

transported to Philly when i was twelve those were the digits on his jersey painted front and back of his uniform etched in green and silver he was my hero we didn't have a football team in Carolina never understood the game but watching Randall against Dallas made all that change tearing up defenses one throw at a time or slicing through their secondary with long...

8:59 pm: watching the Hoosiers, she looks good in crimson and cream, grew up a Clemson fan, but I appreciate the effort. Meeting friends of mine, discovering me. In the past, I would be discovering what's under those jeans. With you, I want to know about your most vivid dreams, am I the star or is it someone closer to 19? You call me the old man and I rib you back, just warning you I will be the...

Dearest Angeline, On the 12th of May, pack your essentials and the board the train to Calvington. You'll pack seven bathing suits, whereas my cunning self shall pack none. Note that we shall spend one week with the Livington-Grambles and then head out to Wembley where Lord Morrie Tad Barbie shall host us. Oh, how you will adore him! Give my best to Orson and the twins. Sincerely,

Brewster’s hand is unconventional. It was maligned during the liberations of Vietnam and Kuwait. His weekends are as complex as most — coffee, morning news, pop tarts, grocery store, post office, couch, Montel, Taco Bell, skin sites, beer, bed. He used to work at Al’s Hardware and Mr. Video. Now things are different. A driver goes places — makes sacrifices, takes a few for the team. Less...

Welcome, Synopsis fans: With shifting points of view, this is a semi-autobiographical tale of the entertainment juggernaut known simply as Yanstebangus. Focused loosely on how they come together, and why, this cautionary tale is fraught with portent, starring Mack Truck Assembly-Line workers Eddie Fraught with George Portent. How could we give any more away? And how could a semi truck write its own...

Some of the things we did when I was little would probably horrify Child Protective Services. Car wheels on a gravel road, I remember vividly being four years old sitting on the arm rest of a 69 Plymouth whose floorboards had rusted away, no seat belt, let alone a car seat, going for a ride with you and Poppy. The omnipresent blue cooler close at hand: PBR for Poppy and Miller Lite for you, throwing the cans out...

Dollie swung the chicken basket out of the frier as unnoticed grease leapt up onto her bulging forearm. Her gloved finger waved in Josh's face. His eyes looked on as more grease gurgled and popped to the beat of the neglected chicken timer. Her choice words lost meaning in the kitchen heat; he tilted his neckbeard a bit higher, out of grease and spittle reach. Her face went blank, losing it's crimson hue; her...

smoking by the plants two hits of American Spirit before the filter watching the planes come in where did they come from? easy to stay stagnant but it's impossible to leave brave souls use airplanes to travel my feet remain stuck in Indiana gravel about to unravel finish my nicotine oh shit another lucid dream? is that a UFO above me captivating lights, my eyes still red yet...

"Lunch time!" Tom spoke the words with his usual jovial, personalized dialect, an almost childish, Sean-Conneryesque slur of words, born from heavily saliva lubricated tongue and cheek movement. This was one of a few trademark utterings during the course of a normal day, almost always spoken in light of consolation for whatever hardship or hissy fit his tedious demeanor and short term memory created while...