Home Page Photo

The Big Stupid Review

Archives

American Dream Serialization (Early Chapters)
Introduction to Jim Chaffee's Studies in Mathematical Pornography by Maurice Stoker
Introduction to Jim Chaffee's Studies in Mathematical Pornography by Tom Bradley
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: American Dream Title Page by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 1 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 2 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 3 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 4 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 5 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 6 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 7 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 8 by Jim Chaffee
Studies in Mathematical Pornography: Chapter 9 by Jim Chaffee
01-01-2015
Modern Tragedy, or Parodies of Ourselves by Robert Castle
01-11-2014
Totally Enchanté, Dahling by Thor Garcia
01-04-2014
Hastini by Rudy Ravindra
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 5 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
01-01-2014
Unexpected Pastures by Kim Farleigh
10-01-2013
Nonviolence by Jim Courter
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 4 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
07-01-2013
The Poet Laureate of Greenville by Al Po
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part VI by Thor Garcia
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 3 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
04-01-2013
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part V by Thor Garcia
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part IV by Thor Garcia
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 2 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
01-01-2013
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part I by Thor Garcia
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part II by Thor Garcia
The Apocalypse of St. Cleo, Part III by Thor Garcia
The Satyricon of Petronius Arbiter Volume 1 Translation by W. C. Firebaugh
10-01-2012
DADDY KNOWS WORST: Clown Cowers as Father Flounders! by Thor Garcia
RESURRECTON: Excerpt from Breakfast at Midnight by Louis Armand
Review of The Volcker Virus (Donald Strauss) by Kane X Faucher: Excerpt from the forthcoming Infinite Grey by Kane X Faucher
01-07-2012
Little Red Light by Suvi Mahonen and Luke Waldrip
TEXECUTION: Klown Konfab as Killer Kroaked! by Thor Garcia
Miranda's Poop by Jimmy Grist
Paul Fabulan by Kane X Faucher: Excerpt from the forthcoming Infinite Grey by Kane X Faucher
01-04-2012
Operation Scumbag by Thor Garcia
Take-Out Dick by Holly Day
Patience by Ward Webb
The Moon Hides Behind a Cloud by Barrie Darke
The Golden Limo of Slipback City by Ken Valenti
01-01-2012
Chapter from The Infinite Atrocity by Kane X. Faucher
Support the Troops By Giving Them Posthumous Boners by Tom Bradley
01-10-2011
When Good Pistols Do Bad Things by Kurt Mueller
Corporate Strategies by Bruce Douglas Reeves
The Dead Sea by Kim Farleigh
The Perfect Knot by Ernest Alanki
Girlish by Bob Bartholomew
01-07-2011
The Little Ganges by Joshua Willey
The Invisible World: René Magritte by Nick Bertelson
Honk for Jesus by Mitchell Waldman
01-04-2011
Red's Dead by Eli Richardson
The Memphis Showdown by Gabriel Ricard
Someday Man by John Grochalski
01-01-2011
I Was a Teenage Rent-a-Frankenstein by Tom Bradley
Only Love Can Break Your Heart by Fred Bubbers
10-01-2010
Believe in These Men by Adam Greenfield
The Magnus Effect by Robert Edward Sullivan
Performance Piece by Jim Chaffee
07-01-2010
Injustice for All by D. E. Fredd
The Polysyllogistic Curse by Gary J. Shipley
How It's Done by Anjoli Roy
Ghost Dance by Connor Caddigan
Two in a Van by Pavlo Kravchenko
04-01-2010
Uncreated Creatures by Connor Caddigan
Invisible by Anjoli Roy
One of Us by Sonia Ramos Rossi
Storyteller by Alan McCormick
01-01-2010
Idolatry by Robert Smith
P H I L E M A T O P H I L I A by Traci Chee
They Do! by Al Po
Full TEX Archive
Side Photo for The Big Stupid Review

Junk-Pure

By Forrest Armstrong

view from matrix by Katalin Marton

There is a place where the matter in the air alone chokes pedestrian. Buildings run alongside a bleak road that never sees use. A body of water languid green like a dead jungle stands in the center, shattering into receding shards of glass at the first solemn touch.

At night giant embryonic bandages hang suspended from the clouds. Sinners traverse them like a catwalk with the invincibility trance up. Tonight, as I walk under the starlit sky, I see one get cocky and drop to the cement twenty yards below. He pops like a water balloon, latex skin flaring against the impact, blood whiplashing in the air like a fountain waterfall. I throw a lit cigarette into a gas well and watch the whole block ignite.

No one notices. That's the best part about living in a city that's in the later stages of decomposition. The city's falling apart everywhere; a skyscraper comes down here, a street combusts there: What's the difference?

One sinner lowers a bag of pitch black H on a fishhook with a note attached: "Pure satanic junk, straight from you-know-where: replace on hook with a twenty spot and it's yours, baby, shoot wisely…" I've seen someone try to cheat a dealer by grabbing the bag and taking off with it. The dealer doesn't usually have much to stick around for so he has no problem taking a swan dive onto the junky and snapping his spine… as long as the punk who tried to cheat him dies it was worth the suicide.

steam engine by Katalin Marton

When I step under the catwalk a shadow blocks me out. A star pulsates anti-energy overhead, light spinning into the nucleus like a garbage disposal. Thick smog the color of Satan's underbelly drapes dense around my ears. I walk through the streets in a haze…

 *** *** ** *

I stand in front of a mirror masturbating to myself masturbating to myself masturbating to myself etc., when my visage disperses and a black face like a bull with horns comes into focus. I jump back in recognition. Quiver-pull up my pants.

"What's wrong, kid," Satan says. "You knew I'd come for you eventually. Think you could live on the lip of hell forever and I wouldn't even notice you?"

"No, no, of course…" I stumble. "Drink? Tea? Anything?"

He steps out of the mirror. He's even more terrifying when he takes shape, the same sheen of power as a prize-horse. "You never touch junk, eh?"

"Not yet anyways, sir, but at your suggestion I could begin immediately—"

"You don't think my junk's any good?"

"I'm sure it's the best there is, sir, it's just—"

"It ain't about the junk. Christ, stop shittin' your pants, kid, I'm here to talk business. You're still alive and resting on the razor's edge. God's hands and mine stand equally outstretched on either side, so I ain't here to claim you just yet. Sit down."

I sit down fast and he continues, "Now listen kid, surely you assumed the Devil's got his agents, right? I got dealers laced throughout the city but I ain't omnipotent, you know? I only know what I see, and sometimes it ain't the whole story. Dealers try and skim off the top, you know what I'm sayin'? And some will go even further. I got guys I supply who think they can compete with me. So it's your job to weed out these faggots and turn ‘em in. You're an insider now. You fake dead. You walk the beltway of sinners at night and you get to know these assholes. Then you nark ‘em out."

He turns and starts to walk away.

"Do I have a choice?" I say.

"No you don't have a choice, you fuckin' loser. I'm the Devil." He walks into the mirror and again I can see my reflection, sheer-white.

 *** *** ** *

JC with wings by Katalin Marton