by Andrew
Wayne Adams
The crazy legless veteran raises an American flag every
morning. As he salutes the flag, an alcoholic politician emerges from the house
across the street, carrying a Cannibal Corpse t-shirt. The politician raises
the t-shirt up a flagpole. The two flagpoles reach for each other, and the American
flag and the t-shirt slap together in hateful struggle.
It is Christmas, and the crazy legless veteran goes
caroling. He knocks on my door. “Sing me a song,” he says. I say, “That’s not
how caroling works.” He says, “I died for your sins,” and he extends his arms
as if crucified, each hand palming a Nine Inch Nails CD. I say, “Don't you mean
you fought for my freedom?” He was in last year’s war. “Also,” I say, “the
crucifixion is more of an Easter thing, I think.” Then I sing him a Public
Enemy song and he goes away.
Every morning, I watch the American flag and the Cannibal
Corpse t-shirt fight, and I wonder which side I’m on. Then a bugle sounds, and
I take up my butter knife.
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BIO: Andrew Wayne Adams is the author of Janitor of Planet Anilingus, a bizarro novella available from Eraserhead Press. He was born and raised in rural Ohio. It was formative. He now lives in Portland, OR, where he works in a centipede warehouse. Visit him at andrewwayneadams.blogspot.com.
BIO: Andrew Wayne Adams is the author of Janitor of Planet Anilingus, a bizarro novella available from Eraserhead Press. He was born and raised in rural Ohio. It was formative. He now lives in Portland, OR, where he works in a centipede warehouse. Visit him at andrewwayneadams.blogspot.com.