PULP
Jail, Dead, or Crazy
PULP Nonfiction
I just read Augusten Bouroughs’ Running with Scissors. Jesus, I thought my writing was edgy. Boroughs is a bestseller of memoirs about his crazy life. Color me inspired. **Note: Names have been changed and locations omitted to protect identities (and myself).
Pepsi
Pulp Fiction #2. We did a bump for the road, snaked through the clutter, and stepped onto the busy sidewalk. There were hipsters on bikes, bums on grates, and girls tripping on heels. Men dragged cigarettes and stared at asses. I’d done just enough ketamine for the world to lose proportion and just enough ecstasy to keep me on my feet. We got a taxi to the far side of the city and stepped straight into the underworld.
Deep Purple
Pulp Fiction #1 - Read at your own risk.
“So, what the fuck did you bring me here for, then?” We were in bed and my back was to him.
“I don’t know . . . I thought you’d like to see Costa Rica, you know, have some fun.”
“I can come to Costa Rica anytime. I don’t need you for that.” He was a piece of shit, just like the rest. Maybe I was, too. I felt dirty and his eyes burned into the back of my head. “Just go to sleep,” I said. “You have to leave early.”
Many more to come x
Check out my latest novel here:
