Pglurp, doosh, pglurp, doosh
Johnny woke up on Saturday at 4:00 a.m. feeling the overwhelming need to take a shit. The evening before had been poker night —…
It was another muggy Midwestern summer in 1982. Cornfields were already as tall as a man and the country air stank of pig shit. At least…
Jeff Davis stuck his thin knife into the first bluegill, opening a wound from its…