Revenge by Mark Spinrad
Albert Gaines killed Marty Henderson. It wasn't an accident per se, though he certainly did not purposefully intend for it to happen. Still the court ruled in favor of murder charges because Gaines, a noted disrepute and troublemaker, was a "lost cause" with a rap sheet over seventeen pages long even though he was barely eighteen
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Fiction
A Story About Bob by Alexander Ligyron
This is a story about a boy named Bob.
Bob was in a hurry. It was almost seven twenty seven, and after a little quick math, he realized that he was forty two minutes late. But Bob wasn't making any excuses for this, no, it wasn't his fault, he reasoned. Fat baby was late, was always late, and Bob should have known this by now. Instead of placing the call earlier and thereby allocating the proper amount of time to make it downtown,
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Tuesday. One a.m. Harmon dreamed he was in school, the first reel of his life called Frustration.... Harmon looked down to see he was bereft of clothes. He wanted to escape before any other student saw. Harmon grabbed some black roses to cover his genitals, but the thorns kept producing thin lines of blood, like dark varicose veins snaking along his skin. No one noticed him wincing. Ellen Sue Ambergris, with the pigtails and the fat five-colored pen in her front pocket, rose and strode to the front. She pushed her thick glasses up on her fat nose and proceeded to conjugate regler. "C'est parfait, Mademoiselle Ambergris."
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This is a story about a boy named Bob.
Bob was in a hurry. It was almost seven twenty seven, and after a little quick math, he realized that he was forty two minutes late. But Bob wasn't making any excuses for this, no, it wasn't his fault, he reasoned. Fat baby was late, was always late, and Bob should have known this by now. Instead of placing the call earlier and thereby allocating the proper amount of time to make it downtown,
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Excerpt from Through-Sound, a novel (Chapter 2) by Rob Saigh
Tuesday. One a.m. Harmon dreamed he was in school, the first reel of his life called Frustration.... Harmon looked down to see he was bereft of clothes. He wanted to escape before any other student saw. Harmon grabbed some black roses to cover his genitals, but the thorns kept producing thin lines of blood, like dark varicose veins snaking along his skin. No one noticed him wincing. Ellen Sue Ambergris, with the pigtails and the fat five-colored pen in her front pocket, rose and strode to the front. She pushed her thick glasses up on her fat nose and proceeded to conjugate regler. "C'est parfait, Mademoiselle Ambergris."
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