Sexy Research Tapes

I waited for him to sit down next to the cage before I hit enter. His face was droopy. His breathing steadied. He uncoiled his shirttail and smoothed it out over his belly. He picked up the recorder next to his hand and pushed a button. He sucked in his gut when he caught me looking. He called me Gonzo like he did when I did something stupid. I hit enter again.

The lights inside the cage in front of his face came on. I counted the freckles under his eyes and over his nose. When the catnip plant inside caught fire, he curved his lips. I hit enter again. He sighed. I said I was sorry. He said he knew. We can figure it out, I said. He said we would.

After he left the room, I picked up the recorder, still warm from his hand. I took it with me when I looked over the computer in the corner. I listened to our voices. His voice was always higher after I spoke than it was when he spoke alone. He used bigger words and said longer sentences than I did. Spectrum. Intensity. Fluorescent. I burned two bonsais, three figs, and a Pothos while listening to him recite the configurations of the switches that controlled the wattage.

When the doorknob turned, I ran away from the computer. He looked at the recorder I held at my side. He called me Gonzo and looked away quickly. He sighed and made faces at the smell of burnt chlorophyll as I walked the recorder back over to his table. My sweaty palm dried quickly. He told me he didn’t know what to say. I said he didn’t have to say anything.

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Crushes, A Fiction Collection, Available In Paperback and Amazon Kindle

My fiction collection, Crushes, is now available in paperback!

Description: A young anthropologist observes the mysteries of the flightless birds in her father’s back yard with the help of a handsome and mysterious traveling painter. A mall cowboy competes for the favor of his work crush. College buddies discover a secret spaceship beneath a hidden lake off of I-65. These are just some of the moments in Crushes, a collection of stories that explore characters from the south scattered across America through magical realism, dark humor, and place. Some adult language and themes of sexuality.

9 stories. Buy it, please. That is all!

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Danbecca Espionage

Here’s a short story. Typo hunters, welcome. Hope you enjoy my fiction. Still working on my microfiction skills.

I lost the race. I was panting when you patted me on the back. After that last smack, your hand slid down my spine a ways. Rebecca from billing was at your side already, announcing how proud she was of you and the diet she’s got you on. I decided I’d have to double the extra sugars I’ve been dumping into your coffee. The next day, you asked me about the tally marks on the laminated paper hung up in my cubical. I told you it was how many times you’d left your desk to fix Elroy’s laptop. You counted them and you looked amazed. Yes, it was a lot, I said. After you hung up your phone later that day and told me to put another tally on the board, I complied. I rubbed it off before you got back. When Rebecca called you just before your lunch, I put in my headphones. When you laughed at something she said, my stomach soured. I went through the lunch boxes in the breakroom until I found the gray one with DANNY written with purple sharpie. I replaced your light mayo tuna sandwiches with one of my real mayonnaise ones. Tomorrow I’ll swap out your avocado for a turkey. I also cook a few extra strips of bacon every few mornings, just in case. One day soon I won’t have to put a tally on the board. One day, she’ll smell the wrong food on your breath or notice the pudge over your abs. One day she’ll leave you.

Danbecca Espionage Short Fiction
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My Final Class of my First Semester in My MBA Program

The good news is, I managed to get far enough ahead to where my MBA program will only take me one and a half years instead of two. The bad news is I’ve procrastinated way too much for my final class. I’m dealing with that this week. My final class this semester is an accounting class. It’s not the most exciting thing. It’s very practical, but that’s a necessity sometimes I guess. I like the classes that are more heavily involved in theory a little more. I like writing papers. I don’t like math.

Maybe next semester I can also get ahead, and perhaps knock out the third semester early as well, but I’m not going to count on that. Either way, I should be done next year, whether it’s just one more semester after this, or two. Then we’ll talk about if I think getting an MBA was worth it or not, and talk about what I want to do next. Options that are on the table are: going for an MFA program, or going for a PhD in English. I don’t really think I want to do a doctorate in business, but I suppose that’s also a theoretical option. There’s also also the possibility of not doing any of those things.

Also, I got sick over the weekend. Quarantining at home until covid19 test results come in.

Also, it’s election day. I voted by mail last month. Obviously, as an educated gay man, I voted for Biden and Harris for President of the United States. I also voted for Amy McGrath for Kentucky Senate.

I’m still writing fiction, too. In case you missed it yesterday, I posted this very short story.

How is your all’s week going?

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The Five-Star Courthouse

Here is a very short story. I’m working on my microfiction skills. Comments and typo hunters, welcome.

The Five-Star Courthouse

Ray didn’t say no when John asked him if his dog was the one who dug the hole in the park by the bench. Ray didn’t even have a dog. Did a blue cotton suit and shoes that shined like polished tree-bark look like clothes that a dog owner would wear? When John asked him if he paid a deposit for the cat that was sitting in his apartment window, Ray didn’t say no. Ray didn’t know what cat he was talking about. Would a single guy who wears white shirts under his suit and fucks so many women ever be caught dead with a cat in his studio? When John handed him the eviction notice in the doorway, Ray wouldn’t take it. Why would a naked man standing in the doorway with no clothes to his name be living in that apartment? Ray made a fake Google account and left a one-star review that mentioned the rude pet owners who let their pets dig in the park, lost pet deposits, and the intolerance of hard-working American’s lifestyles. The police officer with the messed-up shave said to work it out in court.

John was in the office behind the courtroom when Ray arrived. John said he couldn’t prove that Ray was a cat person, but he could prove that it was Ray’s dog that dug the hole in the park. The judge told Ray he was late and asked him why he was naked in a courtroom. Did a small office with a red wooden table and a white minifridge in the corner look like a courtroom to you? On top of that, why would anyone show up to court naked? The judge thought about it and broke down and said he wasn’t really a judge. His diplomas were fakes and his references were fraudulent. John punched Ray in the face. The judge dialed 9-1-1. The police officer arrested John for assault and for making fun of his funky stubble. Ray said he could keep a secret and asked the judge if he wanted a cat or a dog. The judge said both. John left five stars on Google for the courthouse.

fiction The Five-Star Courthouse
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