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Dart Etiquette – Ch. 20
Carlton Ailse, is a thing, a wretched thing that could happen to anyone at any time. Sometimes you can beat a person like that and sometimes he gets you. We needed a proper cure for the likes of Carlton Ailse. Carlton Ailse pulled a knife of his own invertebrate volition. It wasn’t a complete shock […]
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That House Is Not Fit To Live In
I caught The Changeling when I was twelve years old and it spooked me out. The imagery lingered in my mind for a while after and then I kind of forgot about the film. When it would randomly pop up in my head I couldn’t remember the name of it, then years later I rediscovered […]
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Dart Etiquette – Ch. 19
“Do you think any of these herbs want to hear Rust In Piece front to back?” Ozzy asked, pulling his hood up. “I’ll skip all these motherfucker’s songs.” “Not likely.” “Up, we’re up. Viggo,” Ozzy called out over the noise of the bar. “Viggo, game on. Looks like Megadeth will have to wait a bit.” […]
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Dart Etiquette – Ch. 18
A dart board hung on the wall in my bedroom. My bedroom was located in the basement of our house. It wasn’t really our house, but you know that’s just how people talk, you say that it’s yours but it’s not, it belongs to the bank. It was only a matter of time before we […]
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Dart Etiquette – Ch. 17
I grabbed my camouflage army jacket, instead of my denim, which I had been carefully nurturing with the most perfectly placed patches. I pulled the hood of my black hooded sweatshirt up and threw the jacket on. I stepped into black suede pumas and stuffed my keys into the pocket of my jeans. Certain nights […]
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Dart Etiquette – Ch. 16
Things had been problematic in my house for a while. I’d say by the time I got to Junior High school, specifically the summer before, I became more autonomous, more self reliant, and resulted in spending majority of my time at the park to avoid my house and my parents as much as I possibly […]
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Dart Etiquette – Ch. 14
When I returned my father was perched in his withered recliner, paralyzed in his shriveling body and sleeping off the intoxication. Three inches of whiskey stood in a murky glass, sweating a ring amongst many rings on the wooden end table. He snored loudly while in the middle of a film, The Last Man On […]
SEAN GABLER
Middle Aged Curmudgeon. Gritty Minimalist Fiction. Self-Deprecating Non-Fiction.
SEAN GABLER 