SWINGING BY RHEA COMBS

I am a swinger and damn proud of it. For a long time I was quite embarrassed about my secret fetish, but I recently found out one of my closest friends also ‘swings.’ And the other day I met a guy who admitted being a swinger. One can hardly imagine how ecstatic I was when I discovered there were others like me enjoying this secret life. Soon I realized there is a secret society participating in this covert activity. Accepting that a majority of Americans are repressed, and often denying themselves unadulterated pleasure, I was relieved to know that I had found my clandestine clan.

Perhaps, if more people were willing to become swingers and experience its many delights, there would be less road rage, greater world peace, and increased human tolerance. People could also learn more about themselves, realize their limitations and figure out what they find satisfying. Although it may be an unspoken rule that swinging is not socially acceptable, and many think swingers are morally adrift, I have not been one to necessarily follow rules. Moreover, swinging seems to come naturally for me, I feel called to it.

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NOT BY THE HAIRS A RETOLD TALE

BY DIRK JOSEPH
Suddenly, a great blow sent a crack in the shape of a lightening bolt down the middle of the wooden door. Startled, Piggy jumped out of his recliner, spilling chips and soda, but still clutching the remote. “Little Pig, Little Pig, Let me in!” said a voice from the other side of the door. Piggy’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped, and artificially flavored sourcream and onion potato chip crumbs cascaded down his chinny chin chin.

“Oh god. No!” Piggy said in a trembling voice “Please go away!”

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Candace Morgan laid her hand over her husband Theo’s hand on the stick shift as they drove along I-10. She looked over and saw him again as if for the first time. For some reason she pictured her husband today as he was 28 years ago. Four times less flesh than what sat beside her now. Yet he seemed bigger than life then. Bigger than love even. He was strong like armor. Bold like the sun that broke through the windshield and threatened to expose all the time that had been lived in this Minted 1958 Ford Thunderbird red convertible. Age ain’t really profound unless it shows. Mama, as Theo affectionately called his metal and leather bride, did show her age, but you had to look really close.

The beige leather interior still bore its passengers well but there were two cracks in the leather on the center left front edge of the back seat. They weren’t massive cuts and fortunately Mama hadn’t seen her usual visitors lately to add their sweaty salt to her wounds. While the grandkids were at camp for the summer Theo figured he would just let the cuts heal by themselves. Scars is what he called them, Mama’s little battle scars.

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CHOMBO

AN EXCERPT THEREOF
BY FEDERICO ANDERSON

“Kenyatta really is writing his myth.” Khalid nodded. “I was just talking shit.” He turned to me. “I told you I read his book right?” I shook my head. He hadn’t told me and I was surprised. “Yeah I read it, I read the whole thing. I got to admit, it’s deep. He really says some shit. And it’s all on that like C. S. Lewis type of logical connections, building a long complicated argument. It’s well done!”

“C.S. Lewis who wrote children’s books?” Keith asked.

“Yes sweetheart,” Khalid talked down, to redeem himself.

“But he was also a philosopher, like a practical theologian, real interesting stuff. Brilliant really! Too Christian centered for me, but anyway, Ken’s book reminded me of The Abolition of Man. You read that Rick, right? Remember how he starts off with a little green grammar book and from it, he started a series of arguments that lead to the like, the decay of the western world and shit?”

“How does he do that?”

“He starts by describing some aspects of the book, and in describing these aspects, he divines the assumptions that the editors must have made in order to have composed the book in that way. Then from that, he draws another argument about certain new ideas and blah, blah, blah. Before you know it, this grammar book represents everything that’s wrong in the world.

“Anyway, That’s what Ken’s book was like. It starts with the assertion that ‘candy is junk,’ that we all teach our kids and ends in human hypocrisy and white supremacy.” He giggled and shook his head. “It’s a wild ride! The way he does it is interesting.” He broke off laughing then sat quietly smiling to himself.

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