Phil Lane

by Horror Sleaze Trash on January 27, 2015

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Phil Lane has been writing and getting his work rejected at a 75% clip for the past decade plus. He lives in the sprawl of Northern New Jersey with a Boston Terrier and a houseful of mismatched furniture. He can be found online at twitter.com/thephillane

Chief Red Ass

I’d just gotten a blowjob and my spirits were high. I was thinking really clearly, clearer than I had in years. It had been one of those nice ones, too: no teeth, not too fast but not too slow either. Like a good bandleader, she had established a rhythm and conducted the whole affair with great aplomb. It can be like a steam valve down there: sometimes you don’t know how much is built up until you unload it, sticky and cloggy into some poor girl’s throat. “Ooh that’s salty,” she says and you’re self-conscious for a second but then you think, I’m a man and all you’re tasting is testosterone, sweetie.

Needless to say, my mind was unfettered and it was a good thing, too. How else could I have conquered Chief Red Ass? His skin seemed to be made of leather, with the texture and finish of a well broken-in baseball mitt. His eyes were two arrowheads that could pierce through any Paleface. He was nearly seven feet tall and he dressed like a cigar store Indian. He spoke so rarely that when he did, Wurlitzers stopped mid-song. “What Mother Fucker,” he steamed, his tobacco-leaf voice rugged and guttural, “just copped a hummer off my papoose? I kill the MotherFucker.” His f’s and k’s stabbed you worse than any tomahawk ever could. I thanked god for the blowjob, seeing as how it would probably be the last one I ever got.

The drunks all trembled on their stools as Chief Red Ass, high and stiff as a totem pole, stood in front of the door, his arms over his chest like crossbows. “I kill the motherfucker,” he kept saying over and over. Nobody moved; there was no protocol. Galvanized by the blow job, I proclaimed with a conviction I’d never felt before: “It was me, you goddamn alcoholic buffalo jockey. And what the FUCK are you gonna do about it?” Globules of spittle fired from my lips like tiny musket balls. Chief Red Ass stammered. The crimson drained from his face and he seemed to shrink to an average man’s height and shrivel like an armadillo. “I kill motherfucker” he repeated, only in a much duller tone than before. Emasculated, he turned, shoved the saloon doors open and slunk out ingloriously.

I don’t know what came over me. I still don’t. After Chief Red Ass was out of sight, everyone wanted to buy me a beer. I got home shitfaced later that night and when I undressed for bed, I found my drawers still crusty from earlier. My bedtime cigarette tasted better than any I’ve ever smoked before and I slept a full eight hours for the first time since I was nine.

 

Your One Phone Call

by Horror Sleaze Trash on January 27, 2015

Your One Phone Call

Poetry with a knife edge!

 

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS!

 

‘Your One Phone Call’ is a literary zine based in Wales. We only want Top Notch poetry, obviously. We’re not interested in your ‘Reader’s Wives’ scribbling’s, send us only your best! Submit 3 to 5 poems, 2 pieces of Flash Fiction or 2 Short Stories. No simultaneous submissions and no reprints.  No attachments, put your work in the body of the email. Publication will be on a rolling basis. Expect a timely response.  Send submissions to Dai Shotter at

youronephonecall@yahoo.co.uk

https://youronephonecall.wordpress.com/

Robert Vogt

January 27, 2015

Robert Vogt spends his free time in a southern California backyard staring at a cinder block wall for hours at a time. He views standing naked in the face of meaninglessness as the ultimate in human experience. Currently, Vogt is employed as a utility worker at a plastic bag factory in Torrance, California. He aspires […]

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The Gays

January 23, 2015

“The family that gays together, stays together” — sums up Slaughter’s satirical take on television sitcoms and cartoons of past decades based on American nuclear families ranging from the normal to the bizarre. Some other key features of the film: • “The Gays” is twisted, irreverent, and raunchy, appealing at once to gay men ages […]

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Weeeeereeee baaaackkkk.

January 23, 2015

Me and Darne did a one second video every day while we were in India. This is a whole months journey in 30 seconds. Now i am back and ready to rip into a new year filled with all the HORROR SLEAZE AND TRASH you can devour! Fucking bring it on baby!

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Whelp, that’s all folks.

December 24, 2014

Whelp, that’s all folks. Another year down the drain hole and we are all still milling around here pretending like we know what we are doing, but fuck me drunk and bury me pregnant we have a damn good time doing it. Huge thank you to all the cool kids that submitted their works to […]

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