Truckin' October 2009, Vol. 8, Issue 10: Based on true events

This is the third issue in a row in which you, the dearest of readers, may enjoy the twat wit of yours truly. I’m not writing any good these days, I’m way too exhausted from everything else going on in my life, but the story below is kind of entertaining. Naturally I urge you to check out the other writers when you’re still in there. Who knows, maybe you’ll find the story of your life..? And if you don’t buy it, well, you don’t have to. Truckin’ is all free! Spread the love, baby. writes:

The October edition of Truckin’ features the debut of Curtis Krumel with a story he went all the way to Iraq to retrieve. The rest of the roster is filled with familiar faces…. Sigge. Betty. Johnny. Do I even need to tell you their last names? [Yes you do, Pauly, you certainly do. You’re an old man and before soon you’re gonna start forgetting names. Better memorize them while you still have the ability to. Sorry for the interruption, but I kind of enjoyed it. Anyway, see you later.] My story this week? [That’s Pauly’s story, btw.] It’s a genre called ‘Tweaker Fiction’. Hope you enjoy it.

Truckin’ needs your help with a bit of grass roots promotion. Tell your friends. The scribes here write for free and you’ll be doing me a huge favor by helping get them well-deserved publicity.


The Booth by
A fidgety Larry had nowhere to blend in as only person sitting in a booth along the wall. The cops had to pass him on their way out and they’d know that he was fucked up. How could they not know…

The Demon of Oscar Braathen’s Tavern by Sigg3
The baby wants attention and makes a horrible shrieking sound, making the hairs on my back stand up. That’s exactly what you’d expect from a demon hovering above a deserted town. It’s just doing what demons are supposed to be doing. But it freaks me out nevertheless…

Just Lunch by
We’re not strangers, though perhaps we should be; the span between the time when knew each other before and now, is vast. Back then, we didn’t even know ourselves, and what we knew about each other was drawn with immature minds. When we first reconnected I’m sure we imagined what we thought the other had become…

Danger Box by
In Mexico they have Montezuma’s Revenge. In Iraq, the bane of the visitor is Saddam’s Revenge. The source of the condition, like that of the Nile, is shrouded in mystery, but the effects are unmistakable….

Two Memories by
I was called in the middle of the night, when I was higher than a hawk’s nest, and drunker than Cooter Brown. Joe explained the deal, and he and I both knew Jesse had a handful of warrants out, and unresolved entanglements with Texas laws…

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