• Summer Goin’ This Way

    Summer Goin’ This Way

    Summer goin’ that way

    A scene at night.

    Water splashed into the sink, escaping from one set of pipes into another. The faucet, speckled with dried bits of toothpaste, pale blemishes left by droplets of water, and a few straggling facial hairs, reflected the warped, ugly face of the man leaning above. The tiniest hum of an electric bulb and the plastic peck-buzz sounds of moths filled the room. Pale yellow light shone on the yellow walls, covered by peeling floral patterns unchanged in the last half-century, and a warm, gentle breeze floated through the screens of the windows. These were the kind that operate via crank and open to the side a short ways, which most agree are superior to the vertically disposed.

    Perhaps the bathroom occupant was flossing his teeth. The mint-flavored string popped in and out of the gaps between teeth that were never straightened, leaving his woefully unprepared gums red and painful. After a few intervals, he stopped to see what meal-remnants had been recovered. Trying to recall what he had eaten that day, the tastes of cornflakes, a salted ham and cheese sandwich, and lasagna alternately returned to his memory.

    Perhaps he was trying to find some sign in the face in the mirror.

    A sign that says "good vibes only"

    He saw a sign that said “Good Vibes Only” and thought that was rather nice.

    I saw another woodchuck today.

    He ran like a wriggling worm. The tall grass of the marsh never looked so cozy.

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  • A Short Story (illustrated 2025)

    A Short Story (illustrated 2025)

    Water lapped at the plastic bottom of the canoe. When I was 8, I read the word “canoe” for the first time in a book, part of the Magic Tree House series. I quickly formed the assumption that it had something to do with volcanoes. The oar on my lap twitched ever so slightly with each jostle of the boat and the aluminum seating began taking on the warmth of the sun and the fresh morning air filled my lungs as I pondered my volcanous misunderstanding. It shouldn’t be expected of so young a child to have a complete grasp on his vocabulary, especially when facing phonetical inconsistencies like “volcano” and “canoe”. The sun’s blaze momentarily reflected on the lake’s surface, and I took a while to recover my eyes from the glare.

    The target was visible in the distance. A 12-foot sailboat, suitable for two beginner sailors or one rather experienced one, with a triangular Neapolitan sail and a hand-held rudder and a small cavity in the deck to assist with ducking under the boom as it switched with the wind. I could just make out the two miniscule figures putting their weight over the side of the craft to balance it. My watch read that it was time to boogie. As my oar dipped into the water and the forward motion of the boat increased, I felt a hum build in my chest, turning into a full fledged song:

    Sailing, sailing, fast and really good
    I never met a boat I didn't like and never would
    Water, water, on our earth so flat
    Look at me I'm like a fish oh no I lost my hat

    The song I sang came from a place of melancholy and deep loathing for past mistakes.

    ai generated image of boat

    a stupid ai image of a boat (sorry real artists I have no money)

  • Apocalypse

    Apocalypse

    The second day begins.

    The big zombie knocked again. We all were so scared. She was the CFO of a large summer camp and every time she came to visit the office, it made us scared. I turned to the left. The zombie whiteboard started to speak, and it said: “Please do not erase”.

    Please

    do not eras’e.

    erase

    The apocalypse changed us all in different ways. Some adopted new names to reflect a new identity. My name, formally “Hot Gus”, became “Gus”. It took one look at me to know that I was no longer hot. That part of me was left behind. My left arm was left behind in the belly of the big zombie.

    The new big documentary.

    Some photographers walked in past the big zombie and asked if they could record the office for a documentary. It seemed like they should probably record the zombie apocalypse instead, but big zombie tends to get what she wants. I found the strength within myself to comply. As the crew set up, I considered whether or not I should have taken up a more photogenic career, such as open-sea fishing.

    The apocalypse is almost over

    I get to go home soon