I’m speaking to the Dopamine in your brain: you want some good fiction. You want some mind-fucking, synapse popping, caffeine-induced, sleep-deprived, better-than-sex (well, sort of) flurry of letters and sounds and phrases that will set your myelinated axon ass on fire, make you drip-drip-drip down, and stick it to your Master, and make him wipe his ass with all those prominent East Coast mags the next time they come in, so Master realizes the best of today’s fiction ain’t nowhere near there.
I know you’re up for it, Mr. D. You’ve been waiting all week for more.
Mmm, the rush…
– Robert Paul Moreira
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Tagged as:
Online Literature,
Recommended Reading,
Robert Paul Moreira
by Kris Saknussemm
One of the activities that was always popular was a noisy spectacle known as The Partner Game. It was run on the first morning after the children had settled in (although “settled” wasn’t a word that anyone involved would’ve used). It got a lot of initial hyperactivity out of their systems — the manic energy levels that pushed some of them over the temper edge or confused their meds, or just made them miss out on essential information. Secondly, it broke down barriers between old and new kids — like the training exercises used with the counselors, everyone was equally disadvantaged. And finally, it served in a subtle way as a metaphor for some of the deeper lessons that Blind Camp was all about.
The gist was simple. After breakfast, before it became too warm, everyone but the Intensives and their kids gathered down on the Sports Field. A huge box full of toy musical instruments and noisemaking items was poured out on the grass and everyone had to choose one. There were cricket snaps, kazoos, harmonicas, hooting horns, duck calls, pennywhistles, town crier bells, tiny cat bells, bamboo sticks, Jew’s harps — two of each item. Then when everyone had a noisemaker, blindfolds went around so that those who were light sensitive or only partially blind were on the same footing as those who were completely blind. Same with the counselors. Everybody participated.
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Tagged as:
Kris Saknussemm,
Short Story
A friend of ours recently returned from Mexico City and presented us with the figurine you see above.
That’s right. Your eyes do not deceive you. It’s a pig fucking another pig.
We didn’t know what to say, of course, except, “Thanks,” and “Wow! Look at the detailed, intricate artistry,” and “It must have taken forever to carve.”
Our friend laughed.
“What?”
“It’s a pig fucking a pig,” he said, before turning the color of bacon.
He’s going to Egypt next year, wants to visit the pyramids.
We’ll leave a space on our shelf open for the humping dromedaries figurine.
Our gifts to you follow. Have a great weekend.
– Robert Paul Moreira
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Tagged as:
Recommended Reading,
Robert Paul Moreira,
Selected Online Fiction
by Shane Jones
The first failure, Antun
The messenger was given an address by way of pushed note under his wooden door.
The messenger had been dreaming of owls and capes. In his dream he saw a revolver go off inside the owl’s cape. The revolver made a coughing sound and the wounded owl opened his mouth and made a sound like paper being pushed across a floor.
The messenger woke, blew out the candle on his nightstand, and saw a white pamphlet inside a large sheet of brown paper on the floor.
The person outside the door had a dream the night before too. It was of rainbow colored blobs falling from a pea-green sky.
Antun was the messenger’s name. Two pastel blue-colored triangles were stuck on his face.
The message read:
Enclosed pamphlet, please find necessary information to relay to seamstress — Yours Truly.
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Tagged as:
Shane Jones,
Short Story
