Things can be arranged

Things can be arranged.

Here’s something from my brain:

Man, I’d do a bang up job, I swear.

Why the kid talked like that was a mystery that edwin had no desire to solve.

Kid, I got no work for you. All I can offer you in way of a handout is a helping of angst and maybe a little loathing. Why don’t you get fucked, huh?

When Fat edwin woke he found that he was lying next to the railroad tracks again. Icarus was about to crushed by a speeding locomotive and all edwin could think of was Carlyle and the great dead steam engine tearing through the night. Perhaps, the fat man thought, this is an existential question best left to better minds. He didn’t bother making a move until the train had flattened Daedelus’ boy. Then he began the long trudge back to town.

Fat edwin dreamed again that he was locked in a room full of old men with bleeding hammers and lamp lit virgins weaving human flesh into cages for spiders. He wanted to scream, but couldn’t remember how. He wanted run, but was afraid that he would float away.

Kid, I got no work for you. All I can offer you in way of a handout is a helping of angst and maybe a little loathing. Why don’t you get fucked, huh?

edwin kept walking and the kid slanked away like a lobster on new years eve. Just around the corner edwin stopped to fall into a bottomless pit of dread and sorrow. He paused there in the sodium arc-light for almost ten minutes, while whores sized him up and wondered if this ratty tweed fellow had enough money for a quick hand job in the alley. Mostly the concluded that, no, he was not worth their time. By the time edwin collected enough inertia to move again he had decided to give up the numbers business and maybe move south, or to one of the islands.

He figured that he could give the daisies a chance, and maybe sell some Mary Kay to fill in the gaps. He started to whistle and never saw the kid coming. Fat edwin breathed his last with a homemade shank sticking between his ribs and thoughts of a nut brown beach life floating just beyond his dreams.

Things can be arranged.

On to other things. This whole Twitter phenomenon is strange. I keep thinking that I could do something interesting with it, if only I had any ideas.

I want to do an Ebay auction. The winner gets to be a major character in a novel I will write. The winner will have to provide me with their name, a photo of themselves, a description of their personality and mannerisms, a bio (background info and such). I will write the novel and guarantee publication within one year of the end of the auction. Then they will also receive a free copy of the book.

If, in the comments, more than three people tell me that this is a good idea, I will do it. Chime in, please.

I feel useless.

My other idea sis to ebay the mineral rights to my body. Free shipping.

I badly need to find a way to raise enough money to quit my job and write full time. Wanna make a donation?



  1. i think that’s a great idea and i’m not just saying that.

    i read these things your put down and i’m like, jesus….


    • That’s one. Just need three more (not sure if I count) and the Ebay thing is on.


  2. I fuck headless weasels while my parents play the oboe.


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