Billy came back this morning. Came in through the back door and put a fillet knife between Bobby’s ribs and right through his lung like you kill a pig. He was washing dishes at the sink after breakfast. I found him on the floor. Lorell was sitting at the table the whole time. Her belly was fat cause she thought she was pregnant – nine months along, she said. Wasn’t nothing in there but crazy. She’d more likely Continue reading There Was No One There By Marc E. Fitch
*interview by The Dictator*
Long time PMM favourite, Richard Godwin has a new novel out in which he has applied his dark obsidian knife to Sci-Fi with devastating results.
An interview was a necessity.
Tyler Fitzgerald threw himself down at the bar, sweating profusely. “Gimme a whisky.” Seeing the bartender’s scowl he added, “please.”
Leaves crunch under your boots. The air you breathe is harsh and crisp, it stings like a knife in your chest. You cough into your glove. Pull your jacket closer. Birdcalls and squirrel chatter tell you it’s morning. Not that it matters. You’ve been in the dark for years now.
I check my watch, 2:45 pm. I pop two more capsules of Adderall, and a half dropper of liquid psilocybin. It’s an old Special Forces trick I use for long term focus. The kind of focus needed to sit thirty-six hours staring through a scope. The kind of focus needed to kill a man.
*with daft input from The Dictator*
Ladies & Germs!
If’n you loves strange and unusual cinema, do we have a treat for you.
What do bullfights, legendary cartoonist and painter -Robert Williams, Noise artist – Boyd Rice, and a mask clad amputee video star have in common?
Well, my feathered friends, the answer is THIS MAN :
Larry Wessel is not a man to shy away from controversy, the weird, or the taboo. A member of the UNPOP art movement, whose collages have appeared in both Hustler and Answer Me!, his documentaries can shock as they beguile.
Larry was kind enough to chat to us about cinema and his latest project - Eric & Shaye.
I check my lip-gloss in the bathroom mirror; gently run the tip of my tongue along it like I’m a bomb squad guy handling a hair-trigger explosive.
“Don’t forget to feed Doug before you go running off, mister,” my Pops called after me.
I live alone in Room X, a rat hole the size of a large closet. I call it my suicide room. My landlord labels it a studio apartment. In my Continue reading THE MIRROR IN ROOM X by Dr. Mel Waldman
Miriam thinks she’s a witch, a real one. She lights frankincense and myrrh and watches it smolder into a star-flecked night. Her skirt is black with fine, frayed mesh, stockings netted, boots laced. Lots of Continue reading The List by Erin Cole