The Monster Baby Has Acquired a Taste for Oysters by Kim Murdock
It’s a weird brag, but that’s what the parents tell me. Though they don’t say monster. They say, Shuck him another!
It’s a weird brag, but that’s what the parents tell me. Though they don’t say monster. They say, Shuck him another!
My son and my nephew, in their early thirties, both scientists, were sitting in my kitchen drinking and talking about going to Mars, while I stood at the stove flipping burgers.
My brother leaves Alabama for Philadelphia to be a bone broth barista because it’s cooler to sip
liquified bones than a Starbucks pumpkin latte, and leaving your family for a fad isn’t a betrayal.
It’s summer, and Ada Lynn obsesses over any boy with armpit hair.
Anton and I were in school together, and while he was a year younger than me, he seemed like an old man to me.
Guillem arrives late, as always, rapid-firing apologies at his boss as he bustles through the beach bar and pulls on his apron. He stops at my table first, pointing to my near-empty glass. “Another beer, Miss?” Miss. Sweet, when I’m old enough to be his mother.