In the train

Jacob and katie walked back from the hotdog stand near the metro.
‘get some sauerkraut up in this bith homie” Jacob said, as he grabbed a full handful of Katie’s juicy ass.

The hotdog man grunted back

“Aint no sauerkraut up in this here bitch lessin you a hog or a cattle”

Dumbfounded, Jacob’s grip began to loosen upon Katie’s ass. He knew that it was finally time to take action. That he had put up with enough throughout the years, his time working fo, but nonetheless r Seymore, at the glue factory. Seymore. That fucking pig. FUCK SEYMORE!

“Hey bud!”

He blurted

“How bout you suck the fat off a lard’s ass you fucking pig”

The hotdog man lay defenseless. THroughout all of his years, he had never once felt the sting of Jacob’s words. Not only because they resonated with his most adolescent and naive self, when he lived a life previous crossstictching pillows in aunt Lilly’s factory. Where a days worth of work would buy you enough to catch a train home. But also because hotdog man knew they both came from the same place. His mom’s pussy. And at hat moment hotdog man put out his hand to Jacob, and with this gesture he uttered “May you ever last in peace”

The words, had not been well thought out but nonetheless he knew that the impact had been made. There would be sauerkraut on this hotdog, and he knew damn well why. But in opposition to his own programming and semblance to reality, he continued. “Give me five on that bitch and I give you five fifty”…refrain..”and give me nine on that bitch and I’ll give mine thrifty”.
scratch it with your finger nail, . half it again, and then rip it again, and then half it again, and then rip it again, and then half it again, and then rip it again. but you’ll still end up at the same place. sending texts to some ne erdowell from the south side at all hours of the night”

This woman is fucking nuts. There’s no imaginary hairs on your jacket. Stop taking them off.Bobbling bulbs bounce past the window and blow up the periperral vision. Why. Why. Why keep ripping that paper. seriousl. what the fuck are you doing .


Chapter 1. Part 2

Mr Washington was giving a lecture about the asexual reproduction of eukaryotes as the boys wandered back to their desks. Which had been put on opposite sides of the classroom in an attempt to keep them separate and therefore minimize any sort of conspiracies they’d hatch if they sat too close together. Equidistant from all


Chapter 1. Part 1

Mr Bocker looked down upon Jason, Jeremy and Ben in his office. His desk was completely empty and the highly shined acrylic surface reflected the word PRINCIPAL into the dark fake mahogany finish. The three boys, all 10 years old sat in silence. Unsure of what they had done although all their minds were spinning


Introduction

Who gets to own our memories? Our hopes and dreams? Our thoughts? If you share a memory or a story, does the act of sharing it diminish it in some way? Are memories like sacred magical items, which can only be touched by a few clean hands? Are they to be protected in velvet lined


The Source

Listen http://www.pagenotfound.info/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/TheSource.mp3 Download this short story for free as a PDF Subscribe to Jerry Godolphing’s Short Story Podcast Alfred Appledorn sat in his studio in a average home in Bismarck North Dakota. Surrounded by pyramids of books which looked as if they would collapse onto him at any moment. Years of smoke damage tainted the

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Rights

Listen http://www.pagenotfound.info/wp-content/uploads/2011/09/rights.mp3 Download as Short Story Ebook Brett clenched two wooden poles which supported a large banner. The sound of the subway hummed as he felt the eyes of everyone else on the train. They knew that today there was a large protest scheduled for 911 Truth, and that Brett was one of those “crazy

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Flash Bulbs

Listen http://www.pagenotfound.info/audio/flash-bulbs-short-story1.mp3 Download This Ebook as PDF Jacob exhaled a huge cloud of grey marijuana smoke as the 1986 Chevette barreled down the gravel back roads of rural North Dakota. Eliza squinted her youthful eyes; trying to focus as her hands gripped the wheel. It was well past midnight, and there’s nothing more disorienting then

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Short Story Podcast by Jerry Godolphing

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