Tag Archives: abuse

Moth-er, Mother, MoTHER: Friday September 4th, 2015

moth-er NOUN a woman in relation to a child or children to whom she has given birth. synonyms: female parent, materfamilias, matriarch, mom, mommy, ma, mama. vulgar slang NORTH AMERICA: short for motherf***** “I love your house Mrs. Nolan, the … Continue reading

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Mixed Drinks: Saturday June 27th, 2015

Order 77; double Whopper and fries, and one hamburger children’s meal. Order 77. I watch as an old man, his hands gnarled with arthritis and his feet wrapped in orthopedic shoes, holds up his receipt and shuffles to the counter. … Continue reading

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The Violent Bear It and Grin: Part II- Wensday March 18th, 2015

“Open the windows.” June grunts. She waves her hands in no particular direction, “It’s a furnace in here.” “They’re already open.” I say, trying to turn the camper’s window hand cranks further. “They all stop half way.” “S***…” June slumps back … Continue reading

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June on the War Path: Saturday Feb 21st, 2015

“I mean, it just irks me June.” I say, hands tight on the steering wheel, looking out through the Caravan’s cracked windshield. We’re parked beside a T-Rex Fill and Go, before us is a large empty field, a deteriorating single-wide trailer squating  … Continue reading

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The Waiting Game: Valentines Day, 2015.

“I’m so glad to see so many faces here tonight. I think we may have beaten last year’s record.” Pastor Roberson, a stylish man in his mid-forties with an athletic build and expensive power haircut, goes on to thank everyone for coming, mentioning … Continue reading

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Sister o’ Mine, Where have You Been?: Saturday, Nov. 8, 2014

“Here?” Morgan asks. She points to the Books-A-Million sign standing tall above a half-filled parking lot. I nod, and she pulls my van up to the bargain books carts outside the front door. I step out into the cold. “Make it quick, I’ll … Continue reading

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An Old Frenemy: Tuesday Aug. 5th, 2014

Yep, they’re huge, like tree trunks. I look into the full-length mirror hanging from my closet door, my face contorted in morbid curiosity. Or at least a mid-sized telephone poles. I turn sideways, searching for a good angle, but it’s … Continue reading

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