Clubfoot: Ravings of a Cripple

A Collection in Progress.

Biographical Short Stories About Damaged and Defective Children

I’lL Tremble If You Like

Mitchell stands before the fireplace spinning the cylinder in his father’s revolver. Mark and I sit before him on the sofa trying to telepathically communicate a plan to save ourselves, but fear blocks our brainwaves and we sit quietly, waiting to die.

“I’ve decided not to become a composer. I’ve decided to be a murderer, and I have someone picked out.” He keeps us pinned with the gun.

Read the whole story at Treehouse Magazine

Five Things I learned In the Nuthouse

In 1987, my baby-mama convinced me to check myself into a nuthouse because I was contemplating suicide. My four weeks inside ended my suicidal ideation and set me on a path of recovery. It also opened my eyes about certain things I should have known and other things no one should ever have to learn.

Read the whole story at Treehouse Magazine

Silver Buckles

Surgery, leg braces, a sexually abusive toddler, and the comforts of being tucked in at bedtime, only to be haunted by vivid nightmares that would last a lifetime.

The boy’s Club

Think Lord of the Flies, but with comic books, swimming, basketball and (fortunately) boxing and wrestling.

Little Man with the Homonyms

When big brother sails off to war, there’s no escape from a baptism by fire, even in the lush, velvety world of words that sound alike, but have different meanings and spellings.

The Blue Blood Birthday

Our grandmother was descended from royalty, but she didn’t seem to understand that if she was, then her grandchildren were as well.

Dear ANN Landers: Where Does the Nose Go?

Dear Ann Landers: I am fourteen years old and have never kissed a girl, but have one picked out and am planning to do it soon. Please tell me, where does the nose go? Signed, Confused.

Crimes Contemplated, and Those Committed

Sometimes you look back on a decision not to murder someone and realize if you had, your life would probably be about the same as it is now.

Artists In Hell

The one where my buddy and I get sucked into a vortex of whiskey, cocaine and poppers with a biker gang called the Banditos, and then Donald Roller Wilson tells us if we seriously want to be artists, we should move out of Arkansas immediately, but I’m so stoned I have no memory of any of it.

Rat

What’s more dangerous than a member of the Banditos motorcycle gang? Someone who got kicked out of the Banditos for being too goddamn crazy.