In the current economy, many have found it necessary to downsize their living situations. Gone are the days of the ten-thousand-square-foot McMansions. Now people build tiny houses, and try to squeeze all of their belongings into cramped studio apartments.

Daniel Cooper of Miami, Florida recognized this trend early and found a way to take advantage of it. “My buddy Tony was recently down on his luck,” Cooper explains, “He lost his job, his wife, and his house all in the space of a month. Things were getting really rough for him and I couldn’t just stand by and watch without offering to help.”

From Laura: A Novel: For Olivia, the love of my life, and my best friend

From Outlandish Badland Justice: A Collection of Short Stories and Vignettes: For Olivia, who has stood beside me through more trials and tribulations than any one person should have to experience

Vicugna pacos

Everywhere I go, my alpacas come with me. How many alpacas can fit into a car? I can tell you from experience that the answer is five, unless an alpaca is driving. Unlike children, taking alpacas to the supermarket is enchanting. They want to help me reach the highest box of breadcrumbs and offer the ripest bunch of bananas pinched between their toes. With gentle nodding, they encourage me to select the high-fiber cereal for my health. When my crew of beatific quadrupeds parades the sidewalk behind me, people turn their heads and smile. Cheeky children reevaluate their Christmas lists and tug daddy’s arm. My enemies from high school cannot disguise their envy.

On June 5th, 2004, at approximately 2109 hours Zulu Time, Ronald Wilson Reagan III was killed in a targeted operation conducted by United States forces. His termination with extreme prejudice was the capstone to a 9 ½-hour firefight involving multiple law enforcement, intelligence, and military agencies, including the “Night Stalkers” of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment (Airborne) and the “Sunshine Division” of the 40th Infantry (Mechanized).

When the world’s fuel infrastructure fully switched over from oil to “love,” people who once could not afford to drive (or buy) cars were zipping along the abandoned highways. Government agents confiscated the old pollution machines from the driveways. Those who neglected their children, spouses, and friends were stuck. Applications in the mail arrived, offering bailouts. They told us that you could apply for “love stamps,” suspected by skeptics to be Xanax or unfortunate tattoos. People on the outskirts that were born unloved, lived without love, and could not believe in the word to begin with were as crazy as those who once doubted the energy crisis. When I heard the news, I called my parents. They didn’t answer. Then I saw them drive by my window in a Lustang convertible. I knew that thing wasn’t burning any fossil fuels.