Twisted Fiction Press

Archive for February, 2009

Self-Portrait in Profile

by on Feb.25, 2009, under art

Self-Portrait in Profile by Janus

Self-Portrait in Profile by Janus

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Good Old Dave

by on Feb.16, 2009, under Uncategorized

Dave needed to talk to someone so he took out his thing. This was always a good conversation starter—his thing—flashed at the girls from the bushes and behind bins around the station. It was often the only way to get them talking, Dave found, and Dave didn’t mind a good chat. But this girl was different and he could tell that from day one. He flashed it at her once, twice, but she never stopped. Just kept right on walking, looking neither right nor left, but not quite straight ahead either. It was driving him crazy. So one rainy morning he grunted at her to make her stop and look at him or look at IT at least and scream perv or flasher which were, after all, acknowledgments better than none. At his grunt, she did stop. But then all she said with wonky eyes staring at nothing (or maybe something) was “who’s there?” Punched her white stick in the air like a wand. Dave could see no fear in her those crazy deepset eyes, and in the rain-spattered tilt of her face, only a simple curiosity:
“Who are you ?” she said.
So Dave, naked then and exposed before god, was finally able to put away his thing.
“I am Dave,” he said.

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Zombie Day

by on Feb.10, 2009, under Uncategorized

It was a zombie day. One of them sat on a branch of the old box gum across the street, eating his own entrails. The sky so grey, the streetlights so sulphurous. Night had not come. It would never come. The zombies on the porch next door were making a meal out of Mrs Baldacci. I remembered Mrs Baldacci’s nettle risotto. I’d never eat that again. So many experiences gone forever. I licked my lips. Elaine lay still beside me. One half of her face bitten like a cookie, but that didn’t spoil her beauty. Not to me.

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Don Quixote and the Head.

by on Feb.06, 2009, under short_script

DQ: Where am I? Who are you?
HEAD: Oh my God. You’re Don Quixote.
DQ: So?
HEAD: You’re on my desk. I thought you could give me some tips, you know. I’m an old writer, running out of options. I’m scared.
DQ: How old?
HEAD: 74.
DQ: Really? You look pretty good for your age.
HEAD: You got me. Truth is I’m only 34.
DQ: Pull the other one.
HEAD: Would you believe, 44?
DQ: I want to go home.
HEAD: I need to probe your brain first.
DQ: You want to penetrate me?
HEAD: Yes, but not in a gay way.
DQ: What does that even mean? Why are you winking at me? Holy Moses, what’s that?
HEAD: That’s my new sub-woofer. It was a last resort. I thought stereo sound from my iTunes would unleash my talent. (continue reading…)

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