~
Thirdhand Man
At Scottie’s, we played cards until 3, and I had five beers and lost 86 dollars. The weather was getting warmer. I put the windows down on the drive home, and it always feels nice to let the snowmelt into your lungs, and Celeste wasn’t worried, but I called her anyway. It barely rang. Sent me straight to voicemail, which, I figured. Typical. And, “I always hated your mother,” I said to the machine, knowing I couldn’t take it back, and the truth is that was fine by me on account of we both remembered that time at her uncle’s place up in Brainerd, and I was late because it was 2-for-1s at McBleacher’s, and we were on a pull tab hot streak, and when I got to the cabin, her mother said I smelled like a pool hall or one of them discount motels off a Route 10 and had to drape the whole chair in a garbage bag before I could sit down. “Ma’am, I ain’t never smoked in my life,” I said, but she told me it didn’t matter. “You’ll poison us all just the same.”
~
Brett Biebel
(additional pieces by Brett Biebel in this issue)
Food Court
Brett Biebel teaches writing and literature at Augustana College in Rock Island, IL. His (mostly very) short fiction has appeared in Hobart, SmokeLong Quarterly, The Masters Review, Wigleaf, and elsewhere. It’s also been chosen for Best Small Fictions and as part of Wigleaf‘s annual Top 50 Very Short Stories. 48 Blitz, his debut story collection, is available from Split/Lip Press.