LEGS
[published in PIF Magazine]
It went something like this:
Dear Ann: I recently married a mortician. Although I had previously participated in heavy petting, technically, I was still a virgin. On our wedding night my husband told me to soak in a cold bath until my body was frigid. He then instructed me to lie on the bed without moving while he made love to me. Is this normal? If not, what should I do?
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DINER
[published in PIF Magazine]
The bus jolted across the dirt shoulder and skidded to a halt on the blacktop outside the diner where it sat expectantly while the dust caught up in the wheel wells drifted by and settled. The driver pushed hard on the big steel knob and the door swung open. Eddie stood in the aisle bent low looking out the window at the diner while he waited for the others seated forward to lumber off with the awkwardness born of a long bout of sitting. Then he followed, stepping down and out of the protection of air-conditioning and tinted glass and stood squinting in the hot dry sun.
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WHAT CLARA KNEW
[first published in the Antigonish Review]
“Mr. Feller has disappeared”
Clara Humphries, widow of the late Corporal Lloyd Humphries, as she informed everyone she met, made her announcement with grim satisfaction - satisfaction because she had news, grim because she did not know the whole story - yet.
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IN THE SOUTH of VIETNAM
There was a Canadian who lived in the south of Vietnam, the very south, on the edge of the ocean and next to Cambodia. He ran the largest concrete factory in the region and was viewed by the locals as Italian villagers view their godfathers. The King Shit of Turd Hill was what he called himself.
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