Fiction

Original fiction from Identity Theory. Subscribe: RSS

Yellow Teeth

In the rear-view mirror, my yellow teeth looked buttery. If I hadn't forgotten my cell phone, I'd leave myself a message to look into those new Crest strips I'd just seen advertised. I looked again: golden-retriever yellow. Fuck! I hit something. I slammed the brakes and squealed to a stop and then reversed. He was …

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Butternut Squash

A little learning is a dangerous thing; Drink deep or taste not the Pierian spring. -Alexander Pope, “Essay on Criticism” Looking at simple things in a cosmic way is the work of a poet. Accordingly, Thaddeus Edelstein made a point of keeping his eyes open. He wouldn’t want to miss the world in a grain …

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MOM

The Jewish stockbroker I dated said facetiously, “I think the Ku Klux Klan sent you here to fuck all the Jews to death.”

Nome Sane

Uncle Shelby, Sippy Salvatore, Silent Edgar, Ramos the Bull God, Alejandro the Hammer, Peter the Wolf, The Ghost of Thom Jones, names by which my ilk are known or have been known, all. Name by which I go when I go at night from this place in the hills with my hollow prayer book in …

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A Closed Field

Outside, the last sunlight in the world plays in the treetops, turns shimmering leaflets gold. Row upon row of dazzled green cornstalks reach up, blind, into the empty blue sky. A purple strip of road divides us. A shadowy figure, sack over his shoulder, follows his feet along the edge of the ditch. He stops …

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Angel’s Left

1 "Doggy, dear," says Kari Moore, "fetch mommy up another ocean." "Make it two," says Deb Trigaboff. "Three," says Marguerite Mauvoisin. "Five," says Tristram le Brun, the wickedest of the wicked wives club. Kari has grounded her stepson Doug—aka Dougie, then Doggy, Mutt and Biatch and variables thereof and beyond as the day grinds on—on …

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Why I Went to Portugal

Katy and Kyle suggested I take language lessons, but I wasn't going to Portugal to talk. I would speak as I ate and slept—not deliberately; indiscriminately and disjointedly; between slugs of fizzy wine and lungfuls of potent Moroccan hashish; almost by accident. Dee, my girlfriend at the time, joked I was off to try my …

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