I will love my son again, one day. Edward has not been himself of late. On the coffee table where I rest my puffy ankles there sits a picture of the two of us with our arms locked, smiling together, on sports day in his final year of Primary School. First in the egg and … Continue reading PropagandaPunk
People. Make. Glasgow. Ah dinnae ken wit bugger came up wi that but by Goad ah’ll tell ye they had me in mind. Forty year ah’ve been knockin my pan in up and doon this beat. Grey frae the street tae the sky an aye pishing doon, but ye’ll always see me oot. Ye see, … Continue reading A Bit Shit
The school day was over, thank fuck. The full week was over and done with. Tony had homework, or at least, ChatGPT did. He leapt off the bus dodging craterous puddles along the street and bounced through his front door. ‘Boots!’ called his Mum from the kitchen. Stew for tea. Bastard. He stopped … Continue reading Swordfish
SATURDAY Bills scattered across the dining room table like old polaroids, made readable by the dim bulb in the pantry at his back which hung without its shade. Not the spotlight overhead in the kitchen. It was too late for such a harsh, singular light. It was not the right time to be doing it, … Continue reading Frank Vs. The Martians
