Stories and Paintings
LaShawn was the first to lose his gravel (in lieu of cash we were betting with stones from the driveway), and I followed soon after. We continued watching for a couple of hands, and then Nils got impatient and went all in on a pair of fives, so he went broke as well. The... Continue Reading →
I opened my eyes to a vast, star-speckled sky. I don’t know how long I slept; it was still about eight o’clock at night, thanks to the proximal relativity disruptors. For a good minute my brain struggled to make sense of it all—I was lying on a mattress at the top of Budgie’s driveway,... Continue Reading →
The soldiers cast lots for his tunic. They saw what the visionary fools of the last two hundred years refused to see. Try to unweave God from man, and man falls apart. Confiscate his soul and he will wither, or worse, go looking for it. Rather, I will give him someone to pray to,... Continue Reading →
The combination of the crowd’s rapturous cheering and the overpowering green glare of an overhead stage light had me momentarily stupified. Lifting my hand to shield my eyes, I found my way behind Budgie’s guitar amp and to the keyboard. I adjusted the microphone stand in front of me. On the keyboard’s electronic display,... Continue Reading →
With speed and precision that would impress any seasoned roadie, Rory and Budgie rushed back and forward between the garage and the stage in the backyard, moving in total six amplifiers, three guitars, two distortion pedals, two microphones, two microphone stands, one keyboard, one keyboard stand, a five-piece drum kit, four cymbals, one drum... Continue Reading →
Ten minutes passed in our small concrete fortress. The air was stuffy. Sweating my arse off under the afternoon sun had gifted me a noticeably stale aroma. Even Rory, usually anointed with a subtle touch of top-shelf aftershave, now had a whiff of old cheese about him. It added an extra unpleasantness to an... Continue Reading →
I assumed this whole British-mafia-boss-coming-to-murder-my-best-friend thing was one of LaShawn’s odd jokes. I don’t always get jokes. I stared at him, awaiting an explanation, but he just nodded, then went and crouched between two nearby bushes and looked about in the fallen leaves and dirt like he was trying to find a lost contact... Continue Reading →
I look forward to attending your 40th birthday celebration. Biscuits —The RSVP reply from Jimmy “Biscuits” O’Shea to Rory’s birthday invitation. Received 15th July 2019. © 2021 MILES VENISON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Once I got back down the hill, I went inside for a drink. Rory was in the lounge room, struggling to pluck some Simon and Garfunkel on Budgie’s guitar. “How did you get back here so fast?” I said. He lifted his eyes from the fretboard. “What do you mean?” “I thought you were... Continue Reading →
I took a quick shower upstairs. The cool water pelting the top of my shorn head and streaming down my face refreshed me and melted away some of the stress and uncertainty of the last few days. I coughed up a yellow pellet of phlegm; it circled the drain and then disappeared. I felt... Continue Reading →
