| "The Last Time I Failed," The Scruffy Dog Review, January 2006 |
| I haven't worn my good black shoes since my great aunt died last year,
so it takes me time to hunt them down. While I'm on my hands and knees in my closet -
holding my breath against the stench of sweat socks and gym shorts that never made it to
the laundry hamper - I search for my one serious necktie that doesn't have a cartoon character
on it. (More...) |
| "Tony Deranged," Espresso Fiction, July 2005 |
We called him Tony Deranged.
"I used to be ranged," he'd say, grinning through his red Brillo pad beard, and gripping his
longneck bottle. "Now I'm DE-ranged." (More...) |
| "What Kind of Mother," Literary Mama, February 2005 |
| Janie settles back on her chaise lounge like a cat arranging herself for a
nap. She's just slathered baby sunscreen all over her toddler, Miranda. Miranda, brown curls
springing out from her head in every direction, flounces off toward her playhouse singing a
nonsense song. (More...) |
| "The Bookworm," Net Author's E2K, July 2004 |
| I hate to fire her. I really do. Her eager, frail image haunted me as I drove
to the library this morning, knowing what had to be done. (More...) |
| "Thinspiration," The Sidewalk's End, November 2003 |
| I hate her. She left that donut on the counter to tempt me, to
make me fat and disgusting and worthless. (More...) |
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