I’ve re-introduced coffee into my life, and it’s decisions like these that put me in my office chair at three in the morning with a bloody nose, stark naked and trying to order the owner’s manual for a 1973 Dodge Dart, an automobile I’ve never own

I’ll Still Be Short, If You’ll Be Still Old Mother placed her hands in her lap, gestured to the wooden table at her side, and ordered the boy to practice a decision of fate. On the table sat two likenesses carved from timber: a hammer and a chisel.

And Wouldn’t You Know It, Here We Are An old man and a young man sat across from each other in a bar, locking stares with joy and fear, and while the young man had a simple question, the old man would be dead in seven minutes.  One's age was somewhere

I’ll Leave You to Your Being Sick Grave robbing requires a corpse, so at most, this was all just simple thievery. At least, that’s what Rhamuel liked to tell himself as any proper heir to the abandoned goods he was claiming may have simply had their

This isn’t the first office I’ve flattened my ass in, but the rules among the beasts never change—you need to think fast, never abandon food, and bared gums are a clear sign of aggression. You have to be a hunter, a cutthroat with a ragged blade an

I’ve been having aberrant fantasies about a neon striped seafood buffet somewhere in the middle of the desert. I’m doing my best to arrange a vacation getaway to Las Vegas, the land of vice and degenerate corruption, dancing people in Asian-themed fac

It started with what sounded like a soft gurgle just a few inches behind my neck, and when my bare toes started to soak with rain water, I relinquished all hope for this damned ugly day and the whole sullied week. There’s not much room for pause when yo

When I woke up on Sunday morning, little did I know that by lunchtime I’d be deep in the mountains, sitting on a piss stained rug in some stranger’s remote indoor zoo, a pocket full of cash and the realization that there was literally nowhere to run.

The whole scene collapses my brain like a whoopee cushion: I’m no longer sixteen years old, and Taco Bell is no longer a “quick decision” kind of thing. It’s laborious. No longer can I wade up to the counter and start picking out items—something

In all things, in the trials and tribulations of life, there is solace in casserole. Think calmly, think midwestern people, think midwestern things. Wooden spice racks, communal suppers and the special sort of calm that accompanies the orange dusk of a ha