
Julian by Nathan Leslie
The gourmand had eaten everything. Former restaurant reviewer for the local newspaper, he was as familiar with sautéed crickets as with eel bladders and haggis.
The gourmand had eaten everything. Former restaurant reviewer for the local newspaper, he was as familiar with sautéed crickets as with eel bladders and haggis.
Was a big man and unafraid. Six foot five, two ninety seven–he felt as though he was invulnerable. He would do it all–jump out of an airplane, roller coasters galore, cliff diving, spelunking, guns, motorcycles, hand gliding, drink anyone under the table.
It was raining and he was sad and tall. He was waiting for the Facebook woman to appear, it was all arranged.
Approximately thirty seconds before dismissal, one of my first graders asks me what wind is. I freeze up, sixteen first grade faces watching me, they all suddenly want to know what wind is, right now, right this moment. I’m 41 years old, and I honestly have no idea.
Wayne liked the idea of hiding something within, a little surprise to be discovered by whoever was lucky (or unlucky) enough to receive that particular slice of pie.