Sections | Fiction | The Sun Magazine #90

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Fiction

Fiction

Hot Dogs

I was compiling a list of what I would take with me in the coffin when along came a dog wearing a hat.

By Karl Grossman March 1977
Fiction

Ninety Nine Big ’Uns

Henry Huggins was one of the best liars in the county. He was a short, stocky, red-faced man with squinty eyes and a waxed handle-bar mustache. He wore bib overalls and a dirty broadbrim hat pulled down so far it bent the tops of his ears over. He read nickel Westerns and sat around the general store telling elaborate lies.

By Charles Francum February 1977
Fiction

Seventh Heaven

Every time Arthur Wazu got sexually excited his ear lobes turned lavender. This had just happened in the central power station, so he roller-skated back to his captain’s quarters to rest.

By Karl Grossman February 1977
Fiction

Journey To Ishpeming

The person they called The Wizard and I were standing in the grimy men’s room of the Greyhound Bus Station in Ishpeming, Michigan. This is where The Wizard met visitors.

By Karl Grossman December 1976
Fiction

Star Klutz

Commander Arthur Wazu, a broken man, sat disconsolately on the spaceship veranda, gazing at Shlerpy, one of the nine moons of planet 4-b.

By Karl Grossman November 1976
Fiction

Tales Of Politics

“What are you — a weirdo?” the man in the cowboy hat and plastic clogs asked me. For hours I had been hanging around the foul-smelling men’s room of the Greyhound bus station in Ishpeming, Michigan waiting for The Wizard. The Wizard was to tell me about the secrets of politics on this planet.

By Karl Grossman October 1976
Fiction

Mandrake’s Root

My academic career was in ruins. I had just been expelled from McDonald’s University having been caught in lewd acts with Ronald McDonald, that depraved clown.

By Karl Grossman September 1976
Fiction

Sex Is Not Strawberry Jam

My thumb was out and Interstate 86 out of Providence, Rhode Island was getting hot. Me and my St. Bernard, Roger, were thumbing across America. It had been a messy morning.

By Karl Grossman July 1976
Fiction

Fortune Cookies

I was looking up monasteries in the yellow pages when she knocked. I was living at this time in Jersey City, N.J., on top of a meat market. It was the dingiest of places. I got up from my fleabitten couch. I opened the door to a dazzling darkhaired woman.

By Karl Grossman June 1976
Fiction

Three Stories

It was a dismally beautiful afternoon. In fact, it was so beautiful that Samantha wondered if it would ever end. The trees were so green, the light green that only early spring can offer.

By Richard Williams June 1976
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