I stalk my prey downwind and uphill, crouched, muscles taut. A real predator is never anxious nor hurried, not even at full sprint. I lay silent in the reeds, waiting for my quarry to err. That’s when I strike. I’m a hunter. Job Hunter. Read More »

We went to see The Avengers on opening day, buying Fandango tickets the morning of and arriving at the theater well ahead of time. I had been looking forward to this for a long time, and I’d be shot in the back before I settled on substandard seating for a film of this scale. I had to see these inimitable heroes on screen. I consider myself one of them. Read More »

We are the soldiers of sustenance, well-versed in our individual roles and unified by a blanket sense of urgency. The in-room dining telephones are dueling for attention, the soundtrack for the apex of the morning. There’s at least an hour left of hard fighting before any kind of let-up. Read More »

“...what I want and all my days I pine for is to go back to my house and see my day of homecoming. And if some god batters me far out on the wine-blue water, I will endure it, keeping a stubborn spirit inside me, for already I have suffered much and done much hard work on the waves and in the fighting. So let this adventure follow.” — Odysseus, The Odyssey Read More »

I can usually tell if a restaurant is going to be shit right away, but this place toed the line. The specials on the white board were spelled correctly, a goddamn miracle in modern times. There were Marlins on the wall but they were carved out of wood, a bizarre half-measure parody of the practice usually reserved for trophy space, PETA approved. Read More »

I was carving gouges on Avenue A, separating pedestrian and vehicular traffic with grace and precision, pedaling hard and spraying gravel, when some podunk land-locked Iowa tourist prick bastard fuck stepped out of his cab, trandsforming the open space stretched in front of me into an impassable wall. Read More »

Life went bad there for a bit, and had to be placed on blocks in the garage. The gas tank was always full but the oil was too thick; my brakes got sticky and the ignition turned only against its will. With elbow grease, a sharp eye and plenty of protein I’ve been putting it all back together.  Read More »

Why am I awake? Read More »

You were bolt of lightning. For a time I held you in my fist, crackling around my knuckles, snapping at my belt buckle with your forked tongue, vibrating the fillings in my teeth, fusing the change in my pockets. But I let you go, and with you went a seared chunk of myself. Now you are forever lost. Read More »

The enemy approaches. I can hear them squeaking against each other. Ten thousand helium balloons, maybe more. It's a bloody shitstorm of fire-retardant latex and iron-plated polychloroprene, self-propelled and broiling into an unstoppable horde just behind the horizon of the battle track. Let them come. Surveying the field, I see we are ready. Read More »

My periodontist asked me to fuck his daughter for him. It was during surgery, a fairly minor procedure. He stuck me with a six-inch dagger of Novocaine and hacked into my gum line to chisel out 30 years of horrific rot. Wiping bloody chunks of flesh onto my lobster bib, he jammed two fingers into my cheek and commenced the interrogation. How old am I? Where do I live? Read More »

My rivals are scheming, looking over their War Boards somewhere beyond the blue mountains, those cold-activated indigo peaks illuminated in the face of my laptop’s glow. Five Coors Light Silver Bullet shell casings lie scattered across my desk, a sixth live round loaded in my hand. I don’t draft sober. Read More »

This morning I set out to reinvent the concept of chili.  Read More »

I confronted an officer of the United States Postal Service this morning. I spotted him a block away, casing the neighborhood one house at a time in a criss-cross pattern. He stopped at every door. Who is this man? What is his angle? Read More »

There was a car fire under the elevated train. My stop hangs over Hoyt Avenue, and the walkway was choking on metallic smoke. Down on the street some poor bastard kissed the guard rail—longways—and his Audi was dying on the shoulder, gurgling a death rattle, screaming flames at the sky. Read More »