I was cold to the bone from the winter chill, and then there was that woman . . . her shotgun pointed at me throughout the drive Read More
Only in Vernon would a woman like Damey marry an explosive man like Philip. Read More
~Dead Guns Press
“I hate prostitutes—bats, the lot of ’em,” Clyde said.
They marched toward the door. “Your mother one?” Dick cackled.
“Yeah. Ma loved dope. Some pimp overdosed her. That’s why I joined the fuzz.” Read More
~Yellow Mama Magazine in assoc. with Black Petals & Fossil Publications Art by Janne Karlsson
It was just an hour ago when my wife, Nance, killed me. A dame murdering her husband the way Read More
~Over My Dead Body! Mystery Magazine