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The Function Of Criticism by Pepijn Sauer We forget without remembering what. Something started at some point but the point is ... [774 words]
For Sofia by Pepijn Sauer You live with the question. Wondering how to proceed, we find ways to make things happen. We do not u... [449 words]
One Small Moment by Shelley J Alongi One woman's small action makes a lasting impression on a man condemned to die for his crime. [1,847 words]
Last Hours by Shelley J Alongi A general contemplates his decision before formally declaring war. [1,467 words]
Collateral Damage by David Gardiner Some explosions keep on echoing. [4,127 words]
Wolf In Janie's Shadow by Wolfa Of a girl who fell through the cracks in the world. [2,103 words]
The Wedding Banquet by Anthony S Maulucci A rich Italian from the Abruzzi region holds a feast to find a bride and falls in love with... [1,815 words]
2am by MacKenzie Morgan This is my first contribution to the site. It's an excerpt from a journal I kept over the summer. Please re... [3,361 words]
The Seventh Inning Stretch by Kurt Kitasaki A satire on professional sports. [2,230 words]
The Nova by Kurt Kitasaki A satire on executives in the automotive industry. [2,647 words]
Witness by Pepijn Sauer You have seen things. I thank you for describing them to me with so much care and poetic accuracy. Your... [826 words]
White Church by John Karl A passing of innocence and the expectation of one's future. [349 words]
Which Is The Way? by Sreenivasa Murthy Govindaraju Always in need of money and finally undergoes humiliation under the very nose of his teenage ... [2,246 words]
The Mind That Is Morning by Pepijn Sauer The mind that is morning swims. As it grows later it will become frosted glass; an emp... [459 words]
The Girl In The Taxi by Richard Koss A shy, young man has an erotic encounter with a strange girl. Is it real or just a dream? [1,493 words]
The First Time I Met God... by Joel Harper None necessary. [616 words]
The End Of History And The Last Fish by Pepijn Sauer When Field commander Asinine launched his final all out withdrawal the fir... [1,168 words]
Plague Of Time by Kevin Cope This is a story I keep playing around with and as yet is still unfinished. I am not sure how I w... [5,118 words]
Party by Pepijn Sauer Actually the host is dead. It took me a while to notice, but it's true. The host is so dead he has a lot ... [581 words]
Our Father Who Aren't In Heaven by Johnny Abrahams A man searches for his father but will he find him? [3,026 words]
Is Evil Edible? by Johnny Abrahams A very brief introductory work by a person who wishes he could write better than he can. [542 words]
In The End All Becomes Clear by Johnny Abrahams When death comes knocking, do you open the door? [831 words]
Heyman by John Karl Taipei: Big spiders, no drinking water, and lots of Taiwan Beer... Give me 10 reviews and I'll post pict... [557 words]
Gravity by Pepijn Sauer I circle the gravity of this situation in elliptical curves. Inside the fences, so fashionably dressed ... [589 words]
God Bless The President by John Karl Confrontation with knife wielding drunk in Oregon bar... did not have to be this way. [584 words]
Eurojazz by John Karl Stuck in Italy, partying, and then some... [650 words]
Don't Mind Her, She's 'armless by Johnny Abrahams Ugly people have feelings too. [1,000 words]
Adventures In The Land Of The Unexpected by Will E Drillit A satirical look at the conference circuit in the unusual setting of P... [1,066 words]
Adolescent Innocence 2: Evil Never Dies by Loki Evil proves it never dies in this second game of death and destruction. [14,390 words]
A Song Of Absence by Pepijn Sauer Absence. Everybody is on the beach but you. Meister Eckhart sunbathing in bright green short... [1,412 words]
A Modern Day Love Story by Shari Calkin Just an example of how God works miracles in people's lives, especially when they least... [1,241 words]
A Deadly Kind Of Love by Kevin Cope Billy Harper loved his mother just a little too much... [1,846 words]
A Changing Of The Seasons by Bradley Postma Allegorical romance relating the fickleness of love with the weather. [6,240 words]
Within The Darkness by G S Kimbro Short Story of a strange encounter in a restaurant. [1,707 words]
Tarradale's Option by Ed Bruce A tale about life in the Scottish Highlands, an incomer's attempt to defy tradition and the... [3,533 words]
Tale Number One: Dederik Flunn by Banae Wan A young man inherits his father's job as a professional murderer. On his first m... [2,480 words]
Salvation In Death by Alberto Pupo Things are never what they seem... [493 words]
Regretting Mistakes.. by Alberto Pupo a weird tale of a deranged little mind... [1,044 words]
Playing Life By The Rules by Kevin Cope Some last thoughts before I go. [792 words]
On The Way To Retreat by Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Story of a man who sacrificed everything for his country. [1,881 words]
On Orcas Island by John Karl Yuppie vacation to local resort... [269 words]
Legacy by Adhara Von Nuremberg There's more to life than living. [1,612 words]
Kelly's Neighbour by Roxanne Kendrick - [535 words]
John's Secret by Glen Pearson Bill's big brother John is acting a bit weird. What's going on? (Not for impressionable kiddies... [2,154 words]
Faint Bell - A Story You Should Read Because I Said So, And I'm Smart. by Scott W. Hazzard A southern lady waits for her man. No su... [699 words]
Dogfish by Wolfa An owner tells the story of a neurotic, once-abused dog. [1,352 words]
All-Day Breakfast by Kevin Cope An ordinary day. An ordinary guy. A not so ordinary cafe. [2,336 words]
Adolescent Innocence by Loki After moving back to his hometown, a teen finds himself trapped in a deadly game of kill o... [7,559 words]
Losing Life by Antony Berrios A women finds herself in a strange place being held against her will. [672 words]
Hanover Square by Kevin Cope An old man sits by his wife's bed as she slowly passes away. He consoles himself by recalling th... [1,035 words]
In Hour Of Death by Muhammad Nasrullah Khan Dear Readers I have written this short-story in context of Gabriel Garcia's farewell letter to... [1,664 words]
The Ultimate Option by Nadeem Akhtar Modern man's predicament has left him only to avail the ultimate option. A story of all tho... [1,302 words]
The Maniacal Core Of His Unsound Mind by Banae Wan (I want comments.) One eighth done. Reprint. Changed title with anothe... [1,195 words]
The Gap by W A Hardy - [4,055 words]
The Confession by Kathleen McCarthy A murderous cousin plans to murder her way to money. [2,119 words]
The Beast Of Briovera by Christopher Grady In every Fairytale there is some truth, it is up to us to seperate the 'Fairy' from the '... [4,029 words]
Sunday Drive by Antony Berrios A family’s last trip together. [736 words]
Smothered by Paula M Shackleford The story of a girl who drives away men without meaning to. Will she ever find true love? [3,970 words]
Sitting Still by Scott W. Hazzard An ex-writer reflects upon his miserable life while receiving a routine lap dance from his favori... [2,159 words]
Shattered Lives by Kathleen McCarthy A story of a romantic triangle with deadly consequences. [4,761 words]
Who Knows What? by Iain Spittles This is an updated version, take a look, give a comment in return, that's all I ask. [966 words]
Neighbour by Sreenivasa Murthy Govindaraju A retired official who remained as a bachelor attempts to write his auto-biogrphy drawing inspiratin ... [2,296 words]
Lane 23 by Vanessa E Clemmons A mother competing with patience and her daughter's determination to obtain glory. [343 words]
Franky And The Crash
Dad's Discipline by Oscar Oljmex - [684 words]
Annie And Metoo by Arlene Gunn A lonely girl befriends her shadow. One day it suddenly disappears.She is again lonely but find... [1,400 words]
All My Ex's Ain't In Texas by Patti Dinneen A native New Englander recounts her adventures in Texas. [2,308 words]

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Franky And The Crash
A gruff ragamuffin rampages through a city to become an anti-"pretty boy" -anti-hero. Read it. It's short, like your attention spans.
[1,079 words]
Popular Fiction
Scott W. Hazzard
I hate my life.
[August 2001]
[email protected]
Are You Happy? (Poetry) A work in progress. [269 words] [Relationships]
Baby's Mr. Pearl (Poetry) Shakin' That Azz [186 words] [Relationships]
Cook Out, Everybody! (Poetry) Hero stuff. [78 words]
Faint Bell - A Story You Should Read Because I Said So, And I'm Smart. (Short Stories) A southern lady waits for her man. No such luck. [699 words] [Relationships]
Falls Street (Novels) A young man deals with sexual desire in a small town by turning commercial. [61,211 words] [Mind]
From The Author (Essays) The wonderful world of Hazzarding. [228 words] [Mind]
Sitting Still (Short Stories) An ex-writer reflects upon his miserable life while receiving a routine lap dance from his favorite stripper. [2,159 words] [Popular Fiction]
Tradegy Of Crows: Chapter 2 (Novels) Hazzard goes to Hell. 'nuff said. [16,121 words]
Tragedy Of Crows: Chapter 1 (Novels) A bitter college student falls into celestial turmoil when a lowly angel makes a bookkeeping error in the record halls of Heaven. Disaffected youth squares off against self-righteous angels, exhausted... [17,696 words]
Franky And The Crash
Scott W. Hazzard

         Harrison was tired of all that femi-nazi talk about men being insensitive brutes. That all seemed too stagnate to be the whole truth. He knew it, thought about debating it, but promptly remembered that he was never considered a smart man. So, he dropped the idea, took up carrying a baseball bat, and proclaimed himself the great savior of the drying male culture.

     Harrison went by the name Franky after that, because Franky sounds like the average Joe. Of course, he could have picked "Joe", but that felt way too obvious. Besides, "Franky" had a nice 1920s feel to it with a dash of James Dean. Of course, James Dean was the type of rebel that women liked. He was the type of rebel they all cried for. Thus, Franky would forever cast him aside and everything he resented… except the crash. That was real life, Franky thought, that was everything he had meant but never could say.

     Franky beat up mailboxes, let his hair grow into a mangy, uncombed brown frazzle, and started doing all the things that women always made men feel bad about. Franky wore muscle shirts, even though he had a hairy back and a potbelly. Franky smoked, a lot, four packs a day, Lucky Strikes, non-filters. And when he wasn't smoking, Franky packed a huge lipper and spat on the floors of restaurants that told him he had to put his butts out. Franky was a whole other kind of rebel; the kind that doesn't do it with class, doesn't know a thing about style, and doesn't give two shits about anybody, not because it's cool to be apathetic, but because he strives to be selfish.

     "Take back the land and all the fat on it," Franky said once when he was beating the shit out of the newspaper stand on 1st and Maple St. The cops locked him up a few times for drunk and disorderly, assault, disturbing the peace, littering, and resisting arrest. He also had some parking tickets, but he burned those on the spot. Franky was a hero, though, because he was always doing what every over-worked, underpaid, yes-man and no man's man wanted to do. Franky would pose outside their businesses, their factories, and their fast-food joints and start beating the hell out of things. And most said he was crazy, but a few knew there was some kind of method to it. Even though they laughed when he pissed on the side of the main office at the paper mill, Franky was sure he was getting through.

     With bat in hand, Franky terrorized the town as a whole, but he only took out his aggressions on a few select targets. He kept at the grocery stores, running in, ripping up teen magazines, and emptying all the diet pills into a pile on the floor. The cops would never get there in time. Franky would be back at the burger joints beating the hell out of the walky-talking thing that takes your order. But if there was one target he hit the most, it had to be that string of beauty parlors on West St. Twice in one month, he ran down and broke all their front windows. Finally one rainy evening in late Fall, he ran inside Bonny's Beauty Boutique and ripped up all their glossy photographs of movie star haircuts and rock star styles, and made a bonfire in the street, fueling it with creams and jells and tonics of all kinds. He ran around it, howling up at the rain, and all the proper ladies rolled up their car windows and called the cops on their cell phones. They shrieked when he stripped off his flannel and blue jeans down to his Fruit of the Looms. He came out of the quick photo both with pictures for all of them. He ran around slapping them against the hoods of their cars.

      Franky was chased back to his pickup truck, a dark blue F150 with chains on the wheels. Ripping at pavement, he rattled that metal down the road about as fast as that truck could take him. The cops were running him down the street, and Franky just laughed when he saw the roadblock going up. He tossed his baseball bat out the window and let it smack against a billboard putting a big hole in the mouth of some rising teenage superstar in designer underwear. With a cigarette lit and killing him, he whirled his head around like a disjointed maniac singer on the stage, and his arms went flailing into the air as he let go of the wheel.
 He was going pretty fast when he spun into the side of the movie theater. The truck flipped over the curb and smashed through the tall glass doors to the cinema. He was dead in the lobby when they found him, his cigarette still burning by the side of a hairy, flabby arm. It takes a lot to roll a truck like that. No one's quite sure how it happened. He wasn't even going too fast. Some kid found his bat by the roadside, found that it was chipped, and never touched it again. It ended up like most of his memorabilia, in the trash with all the broken glass, the cigarette butts, and spent, outdated magazines. They say that some of that stuff gets recycled, but who knows how much and where it goes.
When they found out that Franky's name was really Harrison, that's the name that went in all the papers. It was like "Franky" had never existed, just some strange celebrity of the daily news police blotters. They wrote that Harrison had a nervous break down, and suddenly, all things were excused, like they never happened. Over the years, people forgot the specifics behind his rampage, just accepted that he was a sick man, but no one ever forgot that car crash, the pictures in the paper of busted metal and shredded red carpeting, and the blood, too. The women pouring out of the theaters screaming, the popcorn boy staring befuddled and amused, the old careworn woman dropping to her knees to curse, the paparazzi taking deep six photographs, and the guys in the factories who only heard it on the news and wished they could have been there to see the crash, and the blood… It was real life. It was everything he meant to say, but didn't have the words to say it.




"This guy just keeps getting worse. He's like a big pile of stupid with a dash of dumb sprinkled on top. If you read this, you're probably dumber now, too. I say we tie this guy to a tree and throw ninja stars at him. That'll be a lot more fun than reading this piece of donkey poo poo." -- Hazzard.
"Scott Hazzard is plain stupid in a big dumb bag. He's a big pile of steaming poopie, and for my money, he should be rocked along side the head. This story is no good. Where are the clowns? People love clows! Where are the talking animals? People love talking animals! I want dancing! I want girls! I want dancing girls who talk to animals! What's wrong with this Hazzard? Why does he try to make me think? He should try thinking himself, about punctuation and spelling. Let's get 'em." -- Albert the Destroya.
"Whilst I was reading this I discovered something huge inside my right nostril, I kept reading and picking, reading and picking and as I reached the conclusion of the story, my finger emerged with a booger that looked similar to the Mona Lisa, I know what I am going to keep!" -- Concerned about the gherkin relish.


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© 2001 Scott W. Hazzard
August 2001

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