"Special Time"

 

     Sipe, "hero" of The Lipless Gods, had his start in "Special Time", a short story.  Basically, it's a proto-Sipe, similar to TLG's Sipe only in name and crime-life affiliation, stuck in a rural setting at Christmas time. 

     The story is in a word - gross.  Like 'booger on your finger gross' or 'the dog has explosive diarrheagross'.  But it's one of the few short stories I've ever finished.  It's a malformed, but cherished child.    

     Putting it up here on the website would be unwholesome.  All kinds of words you shouldn't use get used.  

     However, to any interested parties, just use the convenient 'Contact' page, and I'll send you "Special Time" as a Word doc or just paste the whole shmear into the body of an email, and shoot it your way.

     Here's a taste, albeit kind of toothless compared to the more plum bits:

 

     Once they’d arrived, Cory had been crazed like a 4-year-old amped on sugar, grabbing each and every present under the tree, shaking it under Sipe’s nose so the guest could see, yep, come tomorrow morning, Santa and the elves and the reindeer would prove Cory had earned a place on the nice-list.  Sure, the tard had picked his nose and eaten boogers, but he hadn't wiped any wet gold on housecats or grocery store shelves.  Congratulations. 

     Here in his native habitat, Cory-boy proved a lot less shy.  He looked right at Sipe.  Cory had two hazel eyes, the eyelids droopy, but the pupils weren’t screwed towards looking at each other.  He wasn’t quite as moon faced as Sipe had originally thought.  Doughy, double chinned, definitely.  A light scrim of whiskers coated the bulbous chin.  Sipe wondered if the tard minded the whiskers or if the bird-bodied mom wielded the razor, need be.  

 

     But just to be clear (and to cover my butt)....

 

*** WARNING *** 

 

     "Special Time" contains adult themes, adult language, and adult situations.  It's appropriate only for those 18 and older.  If you're under 18, you probably shouldn't be exposed to such horrors (although, arguably, if you're under 18 and are reading anything, by all means, congratulations).

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