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Weekly Contest #210
**The following story contains allegorical depictions of racism and genocide.** “Look honey, that one’s a soldier! Watch out, he might try to shoot you with his bang bang!” They’re speaking Drakellian but the translator installed in my cochlear nerve fixes that. Even without it I’d still understand, as often as I hear that joke. The child has three golden eyes in front, one in back, which makes it a boy. The rear optic hasn’t opened yet though. He’s still very young. He points his thinly scaled finger at me and mimics gun noise...
Weekly Contest #209
November, 1994 “Dude, I’m telling you, you gotta see it. My girl Uma is in it, John Travolta, and that guy everyone thinks you look like,” Davante strains while trying to hold the smoke in his lungs, extending his right arm to pass the lit blunt to me from behind the wheel of his rickety 1986 Toyota Tercel. Between the pot and this car’s engine it smells like someone doused a skunk in Penzoil and set it on fire. I pinch the spliff tightly between my thumb and forefinger to retrieve it from his grasp. “Eric Stoltz,” I sa...
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