each coast will volley a novel shuttlecock style until
along and watch art come to life before you. For those scoring
at home Blue is West and
Red is East.
was a miscarriage of justice. Onlookers were stunned by the
amount of blood. The doctor on call nearly fainted her ownself.
told, justice was none too happy about it either, although the
birth canal was wider than he'd been led to believe. Next
time, he thought to himself on the way out, next time I'm
gonna come to term come hell or high water. His last thought
was the hope his mother was OK, and then it was back into the
great abyss of undifferentiated nothingness until the wheel
caught him up again. "Hey, Justice, back so soon?"
laughed the void, slapping his...well, actually it was the
sound of one hand slapping.
Almost prescient were the screams of the orderlies as Buchanan
passed them in the hall. He was going to deliver himself a
baby whether conceived or not. Above him, the fluorescent
lights flickered and dimmed as he passed. So much spilt seed
he thought. Wasted progeny tossed on the trash heap with the
cellulite and gall bladders earlier removed.
across town, a tattooed, shirtless, 50-something Anglo-Saxon
man with bifocals and a reflective air leaned comfortably
against the El Camino in his driveway. He lit up an American
Spirit and thought about Jenny, vaguely wishing he had stopped
five or six shots earlier the night before. It was so hard to
control his mouth in the middle of a Jack Daniels binge. His
native arrogance really grabbed him by the throat and refused
to let go. Hell, Jenny might even have come home with him if
he had been enough in his right mind to convince her to take a
vacation from the hospital the next day. Looking down, he
noticed that someone had shaved the words "EAT ME"
into his chest hair. He did not remember that happening.
gold-flecked cherry red low-rider pickup with chrome wheels
careened around the corner and accelerated down the block.
Kids were hanging out of every compartment, laughing and
pushing each other and waving their guns. They disappeared
around the next corner with a scream of rubber, leaving a haze
of burning tires and exhaust in their wake. Big Dog the
Radical loved his neighborhood.
the rest of the piece