Stories and Paintings
There’s a saying in my hometown: Don’t fatten the calf then slaughter the pig. How a farming analogy became such a popular phrase there I don’t know. There were (and still are, as far as I know) no farms in my hometown. Mrs Connors, who lived at the end of our street, kept a... Continue Reading →
After twenty-two years washing some of the highest windows in the world, Hiroto Genji lost his job. Never again would he strap on his harness and descend from atop the Midtown Tower. Never again would he dangle like a spider on a strand of web, two hundred and fifty metres above Tokyo. Never again... Continue Reading →
After thumping the front of his sturdy vintage car against Keith, Stan regained control of his right foot and slammed on the brakes. The car screeched and skidded into a streetlight. A few seconds later, Stan raised himself from his position slumped over the steering wheel and looked groggily about. Steam spewed from the... Continue Reading →
He shrieked again, louder this time, then bolted, sidestepping to shove Todd, the handsome sign language interpreter, to the ground. The huddle of aides and advisors and yes-men (that was their official title) behind the partition at the side of the room parted and watched in shock as Stan raced through their midst, wide-eyed... Continue Reading →
Every reporter raised a hand. Stan’s shoulders slumped. Wendy got his attention with a wave, then tugged on the collar of her red t-shirt. Stan shook his head in confusion. Wendy pointed to her shirt and mouthed, “Red t-shirt.” Stan’s eyes lit up and he nodded. He looked about the room and locked onto the... Continue Reading →
Still chuckling to himself, Stan called on a reporter seated at the edge of the audience. As she stood up, Stan’s laugh abruptly stopped, and the smile evaporated from his face. The reporter, Nadia, was wearing a white t-shirt with the slogan WHAT ABOUT JOSH? written in big black letters. (Josh was a young man... Continue Reading →
“Wow, a lot of questions today,” said Stan, looking out at the raised hands before him. Ah, let’s see… Yes, Marcus. Go ahead.” A young reporter wearing a business shirt and a tie stood up in the middle of the group and asked, “This state’s two-week lockdown has now stretched well over a year—as... Continue Reading →
The room settled after the Covid mascot’s departure, and Stan returned to his notes. “Right then,” he said. “So, as you have just heard, we are extending the lockdown by two weeks. I want to be clear: this decision was not made lightly, or arbitrarily, or as part of a bet, but this decision... Continue Reading →
As Stan Berserkervich touched down behind the podium to a smattering of applause, a crew member ran out and unhooked his wires and harness, then disappeared offstage just before the smoke cleared and the music faded. Stan looked around at the small audience in front of him—reporters from major newspapers, television journalists, and four... Continue Reading →
Stan headed along the corridor toward the room that had hosted the daily press conference every morning since the state’s fourteen-day lockdown began. Since then, the lockdown had been extended thirty-seven times. Gathered at the side of the room, and hidden from the cameras by a large partition, was a small group of aides... Continue Reading →
