John Updike: “Forgive me!” “What for?” “Never mind.”
Irvine Welsh: Eyeballed me, killed him. Slight exaggeration.
Norman Maller: Satan — Jehovah — fifteen rounds. A draw.
Andrea Siegel: “Welcome to Moeshe Christiansen’s Bar Mitzvah.”
Rick Moody: grass, cow, calf, milk, France
AM Homes: He remembered something that never happened.
Robert Olen Butler: Saigon hotel. Decades later. He weeps.
Tobias Wolff: She gave. He took. He forgot.
Courtney Eldridge: — I love you… — Love ya back.
Memoir, Jerry Stahl: You are not shit. You are!
Jamie O’Neill: All her life: half a house.
Edward Albee: Poison; meditation; skiing; ants — nothing worked.
Michael Cunningham: My nemesis is dead. Now what?
David Lodge: I saw. I conquered. Couldn’t come.
Brian Bouldrey: “Cyanide? Bitter almonds.” He knew. How?
Mary Gateskill: Father died. Mother triumphed. I left.
Pickney Benedict: “You? Her? No dice, fat boy.”
Bruce Benderson: Mother’s Day came, doubling Oedipus’ pleasure.
JT LeRoy: Tossed remorselessly, whiffle balls sure hurt.
Rebecca Miller: As she fell, her mind wandered.
Ben Greenman: It’s negative. Say hi to mom.
“A Short History of Academia,” by Sue Grafton: Horny professor. Failing coed. No tenure.
AG Pasquella: Shiva destroys Earth: “Well, that’s that.”
Nicholas Weinstock: Havana’s no place for hockey, coach.
As published in the Fall 2004 issue of BlackBook Magazine.