Short story by Moss Brixton “Hey.” “Hey.” My roommate and I eye each other with squints, like the guys in movies who have mustaches and one of them pulls out his pistol a fraction of a split second before the other and poof, one is dead before the other stomps

Back in my early 30s living in New York, I subsisted on slices from the pizzeria downstairs, copious amounts of coffee, and wine. Fitness was simple…I belonged to no gym, but my workout consisted of running in some form or another: to the subway, from the subway, up and down

“Oh wow…this is awkward.  I was expecting a completely different kind of pussy at this massage.” I bet you thought you knew where this was going didn’t you?  You immediately assumed this was gonna be about hitting up one of the Tenderloin rub n tugs and getting a little something