Category Archives: Blood and Whiskey

Steinbeck never saw this one coming

“New Veronia”, the debut novel from M. S. Coe, is a demented, other-dimensional parallel to “Of Mice and Men”, dipped in a boiling hot vat of skinhead blood, and then fried in whatever baby oil concoction Hulk Hogan uses to … Continue reading

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“This was the year that I fell in love with a tornado…”

Do stick figures dream of a third dimension? If they do, that dream springs forth from the creative mind-womb of Julian Porter in the form of his debut novella Hibakusha Don’t Eat Pop-tarts. On the surface, which is not completely … Continue reading

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Tonight is all about channeling a little rage, and that guy’s blood is still smeared all over the road outside; it looks like some car’s oil pan gave up on life and splattered all of its aspirations all over the concrete

Every time I hear a noise outside the front door, I race to the peep hole and stick my eye as close to the void as I can. The inside of the glass eyepiece is dirty and around the rim … Continue reading

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