“I remember back when filers were FILERS, man.” There is a murmur of agreement around the millwright lunch table at this statement. There is a pounding fists on the tabletop. There are entreaties to hear more. Amidst this, someone nudges me and gestures at their utensils for emphasis. “You see this here, Petersucks?” they pick …

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My grandfather smelled like Gillette shaving cream, Old Spice cologne and deodorant, and… take the plastic handle of a Craftsman screwdriver. Smell it. That smell too. Under this, he smelled a bit like wood varnish, a bit like cedar, and a bit like the peppermint candies he kept in his pocket. And these smells clung …

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I’m careful when I run to the rig floor. I’m careful because you can’t touch anything on the rig if you’re not wearing gloves. No one told me this rule and no one had to, because it’s something I learned in the first three seconds. The first time I touched the railing to climb the …

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“Are you a writer or something?” Startled, I look up to find a woman’s face inexplicably several inches away from my own. She’s thirty-something, dark-haired, voluptuous… and she’s chewing gum right in front of my nose. Her breath smells like fruit extract. I’m temporarily stunned by the length of her torso, because she is not …

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“Young man, as I watch you sitting there, counting ever so frantically, I must ask: is it your intention to pilfer these goods in my hand?” Around three dollars in change, held in the old man’s palm, gleams like dirty gray salmon scales in the sodium lights of the bus. Starting awake, I realize I’ve …

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One day, when I’m rich, I’ll start a charity to help the man with the penis-shaped nose tumor. Or so I solemnly promise myself, as I watch him through the window of the bus, my breath faintly fogging the glass. He’s jogging because he’s late again. The driver is holding the door for him, but …

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This is a guest post from my friend Hunter4086, who is one of the more talented writers I have the pleasure to be e-quainted with. She’s just so good at sentences, damn it! Anyway, she was kind enough to write a guest post for me (after I rudely demanded one) while I work on getting …

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I raise the splitting maul high over head, bringing it down so as to let gravity and the length of the handle do most of the work. A fluid motion, as I’ve been taught. The maul connects with a flat thud instead of the sound like the crumbling of tiny icebergs into the sea which …

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“And just where in the fuck do you think you’ve been?” The door had barely shut before I turned to see my father leaning forward, putting his hands on his hips. He kept his jaw level with the floor and he glared at me with two eyes like dark brown amber in firelight. The effect …

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