Go to Hell

by

,
     “There is nothing like a southern college in the spring,” my dad’s friend says. We are sitting in a little-lit Italian restaurant in Bristol called Vicenzo’s. Behind the bar is a young guy with sleeves and glasses with no frames all around, just on the sides. My dad and his friend drink some craft beer. I down Sprite with the grim determination of a stomach-sick child. As I’m wont to do, I look in the mirrors behind the bar to see myself and my drinking partners. I’m full-faced usually, puffy-looking currently, wearing a button-up and a tie under an acrylic Old Navy blazer that’s a laboratory made impression of tweed.      “Agreed.” My dad is a big man, with a red bulbous nose. “The girls, the trees, the flowers.” I nodded....

read more

A Transcript, 11/25

by

404 Not Found
Q: Tell us what happened in your own words. ANDREA CARROLL: Can I see him? He's in the other room, isn't he? Can I please talk to him? Q: Ms. Carroll, you need to tell us what happened. AC: If I tell you, can I talk to him? Please? Q: Ms. Carroll-- AC: And what about Garth? Is he OK? Q: Garth is your student, correct? AC: Yes, he's my student. Q: At St. Bridey's Academy in Decatur? AC: Yes, he's in my third-grade class. Spooky kid. He'd always turn in assignments, like vocab assignments, talking about monsters and ghosts and things. Guess I know why now. Q: What is your relationship to Lewis Hale, apart from teaching his nephew? AC: None. I mean, I watch his show. Q: NOM NOM NOM, on the...

read more
s2Member®