FICTION365

I hate Brizls. Who could ever love a Brizl?

I was less inhibited than I’d ever been in my life. I slipped the skirt off, right in front of them.

The atmosphere was both political and festive, like a party – a party of the raped.

When it rained they caught each other by the arm and moved with quick and loping steps to hide under the ironwork hair of the Furies.

I think my husband here was a high-fashion model in a past life, in Paris in the 20s.

My Conscience Was No More Than a Bill to be Paid

Of all the possible lives, he’s living this one, and there’s no time for him to even smoke a cigarette in peace.

You will find your productivity increased. Do not be alarmed by moments of joy. There is much to be thankful for. Are you nervous?”

My mother laughed. Your father was colorblind, she said.

Have you any idea how embarrassing it can be to have underwear in your window and belt buckles on your table?

His eyes were glassy and wide. He started screaming, “Don’t you ever shoot anyone, ever again.”

There is no humor in the corporate world. I will probably die here.

The monk could not find his soul.

Lima Bean watched her leave, gave me a look like, hey, who do you think she likes better?

It was the first time in a long time that Wilson felt almost sober. For just a moment he saw clearly.

What would Turkish intelligence want with you? What would anyone want with you, except your passport?

Now she walked to the street, searching for an idea having something to do with the heap, something to do with disposal.

She looked at me with pity and sweetness, as if she were trying to love me.

We finished writing the protocol. It's hard to say if it mattered though.

I calculated the exact number of gift certificates I would have to give Clarice before I died.

I can talk. Can you fly?

You’re all so beautiful. Where are the bodies that belong to you?

Ma’am, if I can just get my clipboard back, we’ll be on our way

Isaac smiles as he watches his father build the pyre for offerings.

Don’t I have a WILD body? Isn’t it great?

By the time it was over and she couldn’t drink any tea she was sobbing too hard on the floor.

Luc and I vowed revenge. I intend to get it.

her eyes drift to where your missing leg would be and snap back to your face. She forces a smile.

I didn’t know what my father did for a living other than that it involved the use of a large number of pens.

I'm not kissing Milagros. That's against the rules. I rather kiss the dog.

Together they were the Three Musketeers of Mayhem, the Three Horsemen of the Ant Apocalypse, and they would always do the deed collectively.

“Don’t hate the place; hate the people,” he says.

This change in technique led again to questions about the suicide machine's process.

Oh where are you going to, said the false false knight to the lovely little child upon the road …

Darren had his hands on the sides of a typewriter as if he was about to slowdance with it. Lovingly, respectfully.

She said that she has no feeling about Iran, she laughed and said that her husband feels bad about this and thinks that she is betraying the country.

I knelt on the asphalt and drew my last picture for Grandma.

“Isn’t the point of synchronized swimming that you do it with other people?”