Posts Tagged ‘ Eirik Gumeny ’

“Shouldn’t Have Worn That Petard If You Didn’t Want to Be Hoisted by It,” by Eirik Gumeny

Dec 20th, 2020 | By

The moon hung in the dark night like a single, severed buttcheek, pale as—

No, that was terrible.

The moon was a Swiss cheese hole, but inversed, because it was cheese-colored and the sky around it was—

No. That was even worse somehow.

“A Living Fart from the Butt of a Lesser God,” by Eirik Gumeny

Apr 20th, 2015 | By

Bartholomew Xander Wohlblätter III threw open the door to Indiana Scones and the Raiders of the Lost Latte with significantly more effort than was required. The little bell that hung from the entryway rang madly from the effort, like there was a tiny hunchback sitting on top of the door and just going absolutely nuts on it. Everyone in the coffee shop turned to watch the visibly frustrated man enter.

“You Non-Miraculous Son of a Bitch,” by Eirik Gumeny

Apr 20th, 2013 | By

Danny Ramirez was sitting on the toilet when he heard it. The constant, staccato thuds and the slight clatter of plates and glasses bunny-hopping across the kitchen counter.

Not again, he thought. Not another embarrassing phone call to the complex office. Not another disgusted plumber calling in for backup. Maria walking in at the exact worst moment. Danny could feel his face turning red at the mere thought. Only then did he realize he hadn’t flushed yet. There was no way the steady shaking could be the result of a pipe trying desperately not to explode. Danny relaxed considerably.

“Hector & Kevin & Sheila,” by Eirik Gumeny

Jan 20th, 2009 | By

Hector Van Ort lived in a pumpkin. It was a very nice pumpkin, very orange. At one point, it had actually been made of pumpkin, but then it got warm and the pumpkin got unpleasant and Hector had it reinforced with matchsticks and tinder. That worked about as well as one would expect, really. Thankfully

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“Caffeine,” by Eirik Gumeny

Sep 20th, 2007 | By

I’ve found that at this point in the evening my train of thought tends to be an empty passenger locomotive dangerously  low on  fuel, more inclined than not to derail  under a slight breeze, and running  along rusted-out tracks held together with duct tape and a prayer. The  engineer is passed out cold and  the conductor’s under the delusion that he

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