Tag: short story

How Bugsy Siegel Really Died

 

My horn itched. Definitely psychosomatic, since horns don’t itch. It happens when I get supremely nervous, and being ushered into Moe Sedway’s office by his mob buddies was wracking my nerves—supremely.

Moe hung up the phone after saying, “You got it, boss.” The boss was Meyer Lansky, the Mob’s Accountant. When I first arrived in Las Vegas, Moe told me that Lansky had once been bitten by a rattlesnake. It must’ve been terrible watching it curl up and die.

For Want of Wild Beasts: Meet Me at the Corner of Auburn and Prescott

 

“Botany is 98% burnouts and potheads.”

The registrar, a kindly, aging woman with a sharp Boston accent, had said that to him on the first day of orientation, handing over his class schedule. Strictly speaking, a medical doctor shouldn’t have been teaching botany at all, but there had been a blank space in his teaching schedule, and the matter of various athletes and sons (and daughters) of privilege who needed science credits. Mix in a few naive humanities majors, frightened of the harder sciences and without any older friends to warn them against it, and that about made up one of his classes. If nothing else, it made his litany of pre-med modules more bearable. 

So What?

 

She stood in front of her apartment door with her coat over her arm, purse over her shoulder, briefcase in her right hand and her keys in her left. It had been a very long day.

Finally, she lifted her keys to the lock, twisted the key slowly and pushed. The door groaned open and she stepped inside.

It seemed even darker than usual. She breathed in the shadows and let her shoulders sag. She wasn’t on stage now. She could relax. But her shoulders didn’t want to cooperate.

[Member Post]

 

David froze. He heard Mom’s footsteps in the hall. He quickly took a bite of his cookie and shoved the rest behind the extended upper panel of the old upright piano. He knew better than to be eating in Grandma’s parlor. Especially near the piano. Even though David had heard her coming, Mom’s hushed voice […]

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