Freddy Gonzales had never before seen so many tangas in his life. That is what Keeper Josh accused Freddy of, looking at the tangas, once they were seated for a while and the young man hadn’t said anything. Freddy had been staring all around at… Read More
“Promise me… promise me you won’t tease me, Freddy.” Katie Lynn swept blue fingers in latex gloves through large waves of short, blonde hair. Like a black and white actress Freddy saw once in an old TV movie… That’s how Katie always did it, like… Read More
Behind the Waterfall There was also a fishkeeper, named Kyle. Ron was the keeper of the gargantuan reverse osmosis water filter, and what pumped fresh water through all the aquaria, and all the crazy building engineering. The man for the mammals was old Harry. He’d… Read More
“No, I’m seventeen.” Freddy shook his head at the woman sitting at the desk. The Visitor’s Center at the National Zoo had two or three anterooms that were used for summer camps during the week and children’s birthday parties on weekends. Freddy could hear kids… Read More
Emperor “Moi” Crush reached out with his furred arm and swiftly took Mike’s rifle away as he armed himself. Charlotta got her gun. Dark legs spread, shaking, cussing at herself for not being able to decide whether to… “No me pegues, Charlotta, o pegaré a… Read More
Emperor “Moi” Crush reached out with his furred arm and swiftly took Mike’s rifle away as he armed himself. Charlotta got her gun. Dark legs spread, shaking, cussing at herself for not being able to decide whether to… “No me pegues, Charlotta, o pegaré a… Read More
Emperor Crush had once been a fat little boy named Moises in the fifth grade at Sacred Heart School, between Mount Pleasant Street and Park Road and also Sixteenth and Park. He and Charlotta had played in the Mount Pleasant soccer League together, both the… Read More
In an orange autumn world, and overlooking a winding gray creek—silver, this morning, a sea of yellowing black walnut trees and kudzu, both invaders foaming far below, and alongside that, Charlotta looked down and breathed smile at the dizzying rush below and the incredible, orgasmic… Read More
The girl with the quiet, angry face did not, of course, call herself ‘girl with the quiet, angry face.’ She was Charlotta Phelps, but Charlotta was the kind of young woman who did realize strangers must call her ‘quiet, angry-faced girl’ and she relished having… Read More
It should have been a normal rush hour ride from Brookland Station, past Georgia Avenue, through Columbia Heights, then down through that damnable bottleneck…
