The interstate is a long gray snake, delivering me to Tampa and my brother's murderer. I drink 10 espressos and piss in a Gatorade jug as I drive. The journey is kept interesting by the snipers hiding in the trees alongside the road. Wreckage lines the road, muzzle flashes burst from the treeline. More than … Continue reading The journey is kept interesting by the snipers hiding in the trees alongside the road.
When Katie walks in the door I recognize her at once. She maintains her sporty looks and pixie haircut. I relish watching her as she is unaware of me, looking from sombrero to sombrero wondering which I am under. But I am not wearing a sombrero, just in case they sent an agent. She is … Continue reading I believe I hear police sirens. I strain. Yes. Unmistakable. We need to leave.
I put on a mid-price suit, tie the tie into a double Windsor, visit a local supermercado, and buy three dozen sombreros. They are kind enough to stack them, box them, and carry them to the car. I drive to the Bonsai Burrito and go inside to meet the shift manager, whose name it turns … Continue reading Nobody. Eats. In the bathroom.
Strangely, the buyer insists on buying in person, in Hammond, so he returns to his parents’ home, eager to tell them that their financial worries are over, and once he makes the sale, he intends to move back to LA, resume work at the spa and make his next cheese, Zellweger Appenzeller. His life is … Continue reading Try to get close to Brooke Shields’ bacteria and see how far you get
Hammond Wry is the screen name of one Damen Ginzberg who lives in his parents’ basement in their middle class home in Hammond, Indiana. He understands the town’s bleak economic outlook, from its dearth of established high-paying jobs to the scarcity of interesting entry-level opportunities. Moreover, he recognizes, in part by overhearing his parent’s desperate, … Continue reading For if playing by the rules guarantees that you lose, why bother playing?