Status Updates From Horror Sleaze Trash: Prose ...

Douglas Hackle is so CRAW!

Murderers I Have Known by Tom Leins is fantastic

There were two of them, all shiny hair and short skirts and earrings that looked like screaming fish mouths. They were smoking cigarettes in an ostentatious manner as they walked, as if by blowing toxins out of their puckered little mouths they might somehow transcend the emptiness of their bleak lives.

I make them look me in the eye when they come. Eye contact. Some guys like it, some guys can’t do it, and some find it humiliating, especially if it’s a married guy — guilty, guilty, guilty! Look at you, making it with a pip-squeak little girl you just met fifteen minutes ago! Come on, Mr. Man — you look at me. Now.

“You’re a pig. You don’t need a real woman, you just need a whore.”
“Are they not real women too, sweetheart?” I asked, laughing as I reached for the decanter to pour myself another drink.

It’s dry. The whole city is dry. I can’t even locate a fucking mandrax or quaalude to take the edge off. The Chicanos on the Southside can’t scare up Xanax and there hasn’t been any decent heroin around in weeks. Swear I’d shoot cough syrup right now if it contained enough Codeine.

Yo, like Poe, I was drinkin’ a cask of amontillado.

The sex robot I purchased was called Emily. She came in six parts: two legs, two arms, one head and one torso. The package included the tools required to build her. At first, I put her head on backwards for fun, but she wouldn’t power up until I put it back the right way. They were happy for you to screw the robots, but not to screw with them.