Crazy but true stories, exaggerated tales, short fiction, and poignant reflections, neatly packaged for your enjoyment. Submit an article »
1. Pay Phone Next to Rural Ditch - Edinburgh, Scotland
Slept in ditch the night before after being jumped and beaten for my backpack. I kept it, along with the required black eye and bruises that accompany saving things. Read More »
The clock seems stuck at 6:18 PM. I am attending my third Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder support group meeting and this session, like the other sessions, is dragging on. Annie is again recounting her harrowing encounter with a jar of pickles that simply would not open. Charles still has frequent panic attacks as he remembers that one time someone called him fat in sixth grade. Read More »
Hey, you awake? Good. Listen, we don't have much time. I know what you're feeling. I know you're confused.
The only thing you really gotta know is that we're with the resistance, and if we don't get enough quarters into the Meter Colossus before sundown tomorrow, we're all gonna get handed life's final parking ticket: death. Now, do you want to pay the fine? Read More »
Should I run down to the corner store, endure the judgmental gaze of Marlene the cock-eyed clerk who works the night shift, to buy a box of condoms? Or should I just cross my fingers and pull out and hope for the best?
"Condom, GO!" Jessica exhales, as if she's tapped into my thoughts. Read More »
A few weeks ago, my brother Billy and I were driving home from game night at our sister's house in Willow Grove, a suburb of Philadelphia. We were listening to a sports radio talk show in the car. Never before this sudden predilection for radio talks shows had my brother ever expressed any interest in anything at all having to do with sports. Read More »
Arcing ropes of hot piping semen spewed forth from the hole in my rigid dong for the first time the very day Ronald Reagan was re-elected President. I was despondent about the election but at the same time relieved to finally be able to shoot something out of my cock. At least I could ignore the justice struggle for four years and focus all of my energies on stroking my dick. Read More »
I was sitting nervously in Stephane Colbert's cavernous rumpus room. A portly man spilling out of a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader's outfit waddled to the podium by the fireplace and began speaking.
"Welcome, everyone, to the North Jersey Chapter of Assholes Anonymous." Read More »
There's a noise outside my house. Why would someone be outside? It's well past midnight.
Is someone breaking in? Is this what it feels like?
I should put some clothes on. This is terrifying. I hear voices. What do I have in here? How do I protect myself? There's a candle. I'll use that. Read More »
It's taken me a lot to get to this point: taking a poop while on acid. But I felt as if this should be documented for the world to know. For those of you who never intend to drop acid, this is what it means to poop while tripping: everything. It means everything. I cannot explain this in greater detail as my senses only allow me this much but it is everything. Read More »
Two months into my relationship with Jen I started to get bored.
She didn't have any hobbies or interests, so beyond numbly watching reality TV, and the occasional sex, we didn't do much together. She wasn't ugly or anything, but nothing about her particularly stood out either. She was plainly pretty. Read More »
Poor Coco, my 1-year-old, 65-pound, positively loony standard poodle, was about to get his balls chopped off. There's just no delicate way to describe it, and I'm not sure whether under the circumstances we should tiptoe around anything or sugar coat the true nature of the event. Read More »
I remember the first time my old man used the F word in front of us. It wasn't like he muttered it underneath his breath as he has been known to do. He cashed his F word chip in around my brothers and me with a salty, heartfelt "MOTHER FUCKER." My father is a great man and even better dad, but everyone has their breaking points and Christmas was usually his. Read More »
Looking at my father, I can't help but think where his life would be if it weren't for ironed corduroy pants and television debates. He stares deep into the screen as an Indian politician demands for secularism, clapping his hands in enthusiastically blind agreement.
"What's going on with all the fighting in Kashmir?" I ask him. Read More »
Bernard knew he had skin cancer. He knew, for a fact, he didn't have that mole on his neck a couple of weeks ago.
Well, he was pretty sure he didn't. Read More »
In England we have a cycling and auto parts store called Halfords. It's kind of like a downsized Walmart meets a downsized Home Depot and combines their most useful products, but only gets the latter's customers. There are no Mexicans or blacks in Halfords, so it's an ideal place to drink your coffee if you're a racist. Read More »