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        Dawn flares at the edge of Dawsville County.

        I am Cheyenne Daw, thirteen years old.

        My Plymouth Road Runner Hemi’s 425-horsepower, 426-cubic-inch Hemi V-8 engine rumbles, screams, and roars. She makes my panties wet.

        Marmosette is what I call her. I dunno, I heard the name somewhere’s an’ I liked it. She used to be my brother Dalton’s car but he died in Afghanistan. He wanted me to have her if anything happened to him.

        My grandparents call Dalton my “late brother” but he ain’t late, he’s early. To heaven.

        My grandparents call me Arrow Head ‘cause I go straight for what I want. I’m thirteen but with enough make-up I can tell people I’m nineteen.

        My parents divorced before I was born.

        My dad is a drunk and he beats me.

        My mom is in jail.

        I was stayin’ with my grandparents. Well, was just ain’t no more.

        I’m a runaway. Or maybe I should say a “drive away”, me and Marmosette.

        I got near six-hundred dollars cash money. I sidled up next to this old pervert at the gas station and I took his wallet. I’m too smart to use his credit cards even though that old pervert wrote his passwords on the back of his credit cards. They take pictures of everyone at the ATMs. They can trace me, I seen it on TV. Shit, I don’t even have a cellphone. They’s got a Jeepy S and I ain’t lettin’ no Satellite follow me.

        I know all the roads in Dawsville County. I just gotta watch out for Sheriff Arvin Biggs. He can’t catch Marmosette but he might block her and me at some crossroad.

        I ain’t wastin’ money on no hotel, neither. I got a blanket and a pillow in the backseat. I can take a bath in any of a dozen creeks that I know of around here. Besides, how many times you heard where some fugitive is caught sleepin’ in some hotel where someone ratted ‘em out?

        I got my grandpa’s new shotgun in the backseat, too. He showed me how to use her, you better believe.

        I ain’t never goin’ back.

        Oh, shit. That’s a helly-copter comin’ this way.

        I’m slowin’ down lah-dee-dah.

        My 425-horsepower, 426-cubic-inch Hemi V-8 engine rumbles, leashed at the speed limit now.

        It’s sure a police helly-copter.

        Still comin’ right my way. Take ‘er easy, Arrow Head. Oh, shit. They’s two news helly-copters behind him.

        Damn. They’s no way… They must’a been lookin’ for Marmosette from the air ‘cause they can’t catch her.

        Even so, how’re they gonna catch Marmosette and me?

        I’ll tell ya how: they’ll drive us into a ambush like drivin’ deer, that’s how.

        Oh, shit. There’s a rifleman leanin’ out of the police helly-copter. He’s gonna shoot me!?

        Oh, shit, mercy, no. He’s gonna shoot Marmosette. No.

        Is he really gonna shoot at a innocent young girl with the news helly-copters watchin’?

        My grandpa’s new shotgun ain’t no use here.

        I suddenly stomp on the gas and Marmosette’s 425-horsepower, 426-cubic-inch Hemi V-8 engine rumbles, screams, and roars.

        But right then Marmosette is shot!

        Her tire blows!!

        I’m loosin’ control!!!


Oh, Cheyenne, OK, honey, there you are. Why are you settin’ in your brother’s car? Grandma and Grandpa ain’t seen you all day. Come on in and get ready, honey. Your father’s congregation is honoring your brother in one hour. Don’t make him late.






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sexy trig kills


        I shouldn’t be telling you this but I have to tell someone.

        I’m sure you know, we as individuals are a continuous surface with a hole in the middle; a donut, or topologically speaking: a torus.  The north side of the hole is the mouth and the south side of the hole is the anus.  We spin around that axis.

        Our genitals cause that axis to move tangentially in a random migration.

        Of course, even so-called random events follow a rule, most often in our experience expressed graphically as the “bell curve”.

        I find all that elegant and reassuring.

        What I find disruptive in my little mathematical Garden of Eden are the devils and angels that enter when we take a bite of the knowledge of Death.

        Then my little mathematical Garden of Eden becomes a Mud Wrestling…

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 tip rail


        I met Mae Dela Galicia when she was seventeen years old.  She had the most angelic face.  Mae was really smart and her eyes were wise and she was really hard headed, like wood, and she made people believe she was twenty-three years old.

        She was a stripper.

        I approached the Tip Rail while she was dancing onstage at the MOON DAWG club.  I wrapped my business card in a twenty-dollar bill folded length-wise and I slipped it into her garter.

        I was working on the screenplay for SINS OF THE FATHER and I had been meeting with the Mexican film producers and I thought that Mae was perfect for the role of Lucida.

        I had to find out if she could act.

        As I watched her I grew firm with determination and I booked an hour in the

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in my blood 2


        The curtain opens.

        It is night in the streets of the Barahona Coast in the Dominican Republic.  Outside the Empalizada dance club a young girl sits on the curb under a pale streetlight.  She is disheveled and bloody.  She looks up and speaks.

        Me name is Yuisa.  Yes, she is Taino Indian name.  Yndios is in me blood.

        You are a nice policeman to help me.

        I be OK.

        I walk home.

        I live with me uncle Guamá.  Yes, he is Taino Indian name.  He is fisherman.

        Yes, I live with me uncle.

        When I be a little girl me family is poor so they give me to a rich family.  I suppose to clean they house.  They suppose to feed me and clothe me and educate me.  But they beat me.  They make me sleep in box. …

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        Once upon a dawn in The Kingdom of Belgium on a little farm there was an old farmer who went to his chicken coop to collect the eggs that he had counted the night before.

        When old farmer Boer raised up his lantern he realized that the chickens were gone and that there were no eggs.  He cried out, “Fok!”

        Old farmer Boer’s hound dog Kloot heard the distress and loped into the chicken coop.

        Old Boer cried, “Kloot!  Where are the chickens?  There were fifty eggs here!  You were guarding them

        Kloot looked up at his master’s face and then his gaze followed his master’s dicing hand and Kloot whined, “Rrr?”

        Old Boer began to dance with disbelief, crying, “My chickens!  My eggs!”

        Kloot followed the casting gestures of his master’s hand and began to…

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 stinky girl hill 


        We charged the machine gun emplacement atop the first sand dune.  I was shot through the guts, horribly, and I fell clutching my intestines as they uncoiled from my belly.  My three friends crowded to my side where I had fallen in the sand.

        Private Mark cried, “Sergeant!”

        Private Warren cried, “The bastards!”

        Private Greg aimed his rifle over my head and fired repeatedly and then said, “I got the bastards Sergeant!”

        I croaked, “Tell my mother that I didn’t suffer,” then I said, “Ok, I’m dead.”

        I was ten years old.  It was the last Saturday of summer and my father had taken me and my three best friends to Seal Beach, between the power plant and the jetty, and we were playing army in the dunes while he studied for his Masters degree.


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b and p 2

Title: “Lean On Me”, Artist: Lynn Cyr


        Bradley the Banana and Anjoulina the Pear first appeared together in Lynn Cyr’s painting entitled “Lean On Me”.  Their association became the subject of a much-publicized Fruit Bowl scandal when they were alleged to have begun an affair while Bradley the Banana was still Tutti Frutti with Ambrosia the Apple.

        Both Bradley the Banana and Anjoulina the Pear denied these allegations on several occasions, but both admitted that they “fell in love” during the still-life arrangement.

        Anjoulina the Pear explained, “To be a salad with a man who was already Tutti-Frutti is not something that I could forgive.  I wouldn’t be attracted to a Banana who would cross-pollinate.  My own father cross-pollinated behind my mother’s orchard.”

        During this summer Bradley the Banana and Anjoulina the Pear were seen next to each other in the Fruit Bowl with…

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