View All Issues« Previous Issue | Main | Next Issue »
August 16, 2005
Volume 5, Issue 16
A Cypriot airliner crashed a few days ago, and a Venezuelan airliner crashed this morning.
The theme for today is the word crash.
Laurence - That's the way
"Honestly, I have no idea what this means," said Foster, running the tickertape through his hands. "I just like the feel of the paper and I look good doing it."
"How about a graph?" said Duke. He flicked on the overhead projector light, and a black line wiggled down... down... down...
"We're broke!" screamed Foster.
"No we're not," said Duke.
"The market's crashed!" yelled Foster. "It's all over!"
Foster jumped out the window, pulling a tickertape trail all the way down.
Duke looked up at the graph and said "oops."
He reached for the transparency and flipped it back around.
Ted: No One Wants to Hear It Again
"I remember the big crash of '29," said the grizzled vet. "Folks were jumping out of windows, shooting themselves in the head, all manner of craziness."
Tom looked at the old man with his sleeve pinned up with a mixture of derision and pity. For three weeks now when he came into the bar on his nightly rounds this lush, wearing a naval uniform for fuck's sake, had been trying to get someone to listen his story. Tom had heard it from the barkeep a week ago though when the old man was passed out.
"Come on gramps, closing time."
Michele: Into This World We're Thrown
The only time Brad goes outside is 4am, avoiding the ridicule of those who stare and point at the mute man with the crazy eyes.
This morning, there’s a woman in the road. She’s been thrown from her car, the wheels of which are skyward, spinning. The woman is conscious, totally aware that she’s slowly bleeding to death on a pile of dog-piss colored snow.
Brad focuses. In an instant he knows her favorite song, where she works, that she cries during sex.
He leans down, kisses the dying woman on the mouth.
Her pain is gone. She dies, peacefully.