Moral Decay

Two more satisfied AWwYP customers.

 There are few guarantees in life (apart from my Mac’s irrational approach to uploading images – this is my third attempt). However, when an opening line includes the words “dead” and “cluttering”, we can pretty much guarantee that you’ll want to read on. After all, a story is a body of work.   UNDER THE …

Two more satisfied AWwYP customers.

 There are few guarantees in life (apart from my Mac’s irrational approach to uploading images – this is my third attempt). However, when an opening line includes the words “dead” and “cluttering”, we can pretty much guarantee that you’ll want to read on. After all, a story is a body of work.

 

UNDER THE DOME OF NOONAN by Sal Buttaci

Dad ignored the dead pedestrians cluttering Blaise Pascal Boulevard as their Newton lifted over them, skirted around them, whizzing by towards Computville.

“What in holy science is going on?” Gottfried asked Dad because bad-smelling human litter always put his nose out of joint. In a very old novelrama he’d once read that in the Twentieth Century, early morning drivers on their way to work considered dead squirrels, dead birds, and dead cats a common roadway sight.  But, damnit, here it was already noon! Where were the clean-up hover vans? The bumper sticker on the rear of the shiny new Fermi in front of them announced in tall blood-red script: “I DON’T BRAKE FOR DEAD FOLKS.”

15 comments

  1. Writes like a Coonce, and I know you won’t take that bad.  Speaking of bad, a bad-___ opener.  I needed to read the rest the first time to figure things but man-oh-man the company we keep with the likes such as yourself.

  2. Anna Mullins says:

    Wow Sal! Interesting! I just hope I never hear of a new Road Kill Cafe opening up around here any time soon.

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