Saturday, May 25, 2013

The New Yorker's Fiction Issue


Learning how to tie the full Windsor knot is an important milestone in every young man’s life. But what if you were born without a tie?
Needy children scream wildly as you take each footstep, as you chew every sprouted wheat bun.
Cascading down a sun-dappled banister comes Blaine Crank, also known in the neighborhood as “that kid who levitates every time he re-reads his Mom’s copy of Lawrence Durrell’s Alexandria Quartet.”
“Donald Barthelme is stupid, and you’re a cheap Donald Barthelme.”
He hits me with a tub of bleach and I can’t help but agree before I black out and wake up twenty minutes later, as Blaine feebly attempts to press his limp weenus against my thigh.
“This Donald Barthelme prefers pussy,” I say, and sail out of there like an academic’s dream experiment – determined, lithe, devoid of theory.

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