Ben had these little soaps I’d pick up and smell in his bathroom. They were like little seashells. Looked like white chocolate, smelled like I don’t know. Flowers or something. I’d always take one into my hand when I was peeing and think about taking a bite out of it. The night of Ben’s going-away party, I was like, I don’t know, maybe I should really do it this time. I’ll never be back here. I’ll never hold this little scented conch again.
But somebody knocked on the door and I flushed and left.
Everyone was there. People I hadn’t talked to since freshman year. People you wouldn’t think even remembered or gave a shit about Ben. But I guess everyone was pretty curious.
Continue reading “Going Away”
Back, Back, Back
Ryan Everett Felton
The Professor was a lunatic, and I knew I wouldn’t feel bad about killing him even a little.
My mind made up, I turned the keys in the ignition of his souped-up piece of shit Gremlin. I ran a finger over the control panel and kicked on the mods he’d added to the car all those years ago: glowing isotopes and rumbling gizmos with names so long I still can’t remember ‘em. But I remember how to work ‘em. I’ve been on enough physics-bending misadventures with the Prof to work those controls with my eyes closed. The son-of-a-bitch shunted me forward and backward through time in the thing so often I’m pretty sure it broke both our brains.
Galileo, the old man’s shaggy mutt, waited in the cockpit and flashed me a set of sad puppy eyes. He whimpered. “Sorry, boy,” I said. “He’s not coming. Not this time.” Continue reading “Back, Back, Back”