Shirtless Mike

A cloud of invisible stink accompanied the garbage truck as it wobbled between parked cars on either side of the street, idling, rolling, reversing. An albino cockroach on wheels.

The Regulars

They met there every day, discussing their backs and their wives and the minutiae of their lives.

The Old Man and The Bridge

A big bearded man in a big furry hat is twisting the wheel of his tow truck the way you would open a jar of pickles.

187 Champions

“There is panic in San Bernardino,” said John Weeks in the Sun Telegram, “the homicide rate is out of control. People are being shot dead while paying their respects at the memorial sites of other people who have been shot dead.”


Every two weeks I revisit the increasingly powerful urge to pull the little black telephone from my pocket and throw it as hard as I can.