juststeve's profile

Old Tommy slumped in a battered leather recliner, nursing a serious bout of self-deprecating melancholy. He was very busy hating himself and took the opportunity to punish himself in all of his favorite ways. A large bottle of Mezcal sat nearly drained on his end table. The shriveled body of a gusano lay still in the warm caramel mix. It had so far avoided being swilled. Dirty shot glasses sweated a mixture of booze and melted ice carelessly into the table’s old and very valuable finish. Cig...

At the top of the world, on the sixty-fifth floor of the Taylor Building, surrounded by men older, richer and more powerful than he, David Myers inherited the Earth. “Congratulations, David.” “Thanks, Phil.” “You’re going to be a great CEO, Dave.” “I appreciate your confidence in me, Jerry.” “Call me next week. Let’s have lunch.” “Sure thing, Nick. Should I bring my clubs?” And then he was alone in the boardroom. This was now his room. He felt a swelling sense of pride over the beauty of his...

Paul swirled a cup of stone-cold coffee in hands, wondering if he had waited too long. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe everything he did mattered. He’d never held up a coffee shop before. He looked things over again. His table now seemed a little too staged. His newspaper had been scattered, but had he flipped through the pages enough? Aren’t newspapers supposed to look a bit disheveled after you’ve read them? His jacket hung casually from one of the chairs. Was it too warm today to be wearing...

She still had a handsome form, especially for someone her age, though her features long ago had melted and congealed around the edges. That’s how she knew the mirror was a liar. Actually, it was that other woman, no more than a girl really, that convinced her of the truth. She looked over her shoulder, making sure the jackass was still watching her. He was. With deliberate care, she dropped another one of his precious tomes into the weather-beaten cardboard box she’d picked up next to the du...

Jim gasps and lurches forward, crashing head-first into a wall of agony. He gags and sprays blood, from his mouth and his nose, all over himself. The blood is black and thick and sticky, partly congealed all the way down into his throat. He’s in an ambulance. The EMT struggles to hold him down while shouting profanities to the driver up front and orders to a sobbing female voice just out of Jim’s dimming field of vision. He’s surrounded by life support. So many wires and tubes jammed into hi...