the seedy underbelly

This is fiction. Science will return shortly. Cornelius Kipling doesn’t take No for an answer. He usually takes several of them–several No’s strung together in rapid sequence, each one louder and more adamant than the last one. “No,” I told him over dinner at the Rhubarb Club one foggy evening. “No, no, no. I won’t … Continue reading the seedy underbelly

deconstructing the turducken

This is fiction. Which means it’s entirely made up, and definitely not at all based on any real people or events.   Cornelius Kipling came over to our house for Thanksgiving. I didn’t invite him; I would never, ever invite him. He was guaranteed to show up slightly drunk and very belligerent, carrying a two-thirds empty … Continue reading deconstructing the turducken

sunbathers in America

This is fiction. Kind of. Science left for a few days and asked fiction to care for the house. I ran into my friend, Cornelius Kipling, at the grocery store. He was ahead of me in line, holding a large eggplant and a copy of the National Enquirer. I didn’t ask about it. I hadn’t … Continue reading sunbathers in America