Razor Dildo

Contributor: George Sparling - - The intruder, my brother, stood there, mouth down-curved. He frowned as he scratched his crotch. I walked closer, sickened yet drawn to his peculiar stench. I bent close and smelled vomit, urine, whisky, and dirt. And the stench of blood? He never moved as I sniffed him. His mouth open, his mien neutral, he said, “You were always a freak.” Fear snaked through my entire body for the first time in my life, a cartoon of affliction, filthy squiggles above my electrified hair. I always thought I had spoken truth, too frightened of lies, how they eat away at your memories until you’re no longer human. She had slung those big legs around my thighs too many times to count while Dad jetted around the world on business trips. One night he found her on top of me as I squealed like a pig. The annulment soon followed. “Her...

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Author: George Sparling

Contributor: Robert E. Petras - - You would think a man with a hollow leg could hold his liquor. But not Stumpy. The more he drank, the worse he staggered. Of course, you would expect such a result from a guy with one real leg. He didn’t have a prosthetic or anything like that, just a hollow leg that looked hairy and normal, even muscular with veins popping out like a bicyclist’s leg. I guess when he was sober you couldn’t tell Stumpy had a hollow leg by watching him walk. A trained eye for such things might be able to detect the slightest limp to Stumpy’s stride as though one leg were a quarter-inch shorter than the other. After he drank three beers or so, he staggered a bit, and the more he drunk the worse he staggered, but he never lost his balance as though that hollow leg of his—the left one--was filled with helium or something. I...

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