We are really, really thrilled to share that PANK contributor MERRITT TIERCE will receive a 2011 Rona Jaffe Foundation Writer’s Award. Merritt is an outstanding writer and this recognition is richly deserved.

In Issue 4 of Red Lightbulbs, xTx, Paul Cunningham, J. Bradley, and others.

David LaBounty has an interestingly titled poem up at Booth.

The September issue of decomP includes Gary Moshimer, Eric Burke, and others.

Lumberyard 8 features Sherman Alexie and many other fine writers.

At Used Furniture Review, a story by Bonnie ZoBell.

Ravi Mangla has a funny short list at McSweeney’s Internet Tendency.

In book news, JA Tyler’s novella Girl With Oars & Man Dying is available for preorder from Aqueous Books.

There’s also a new issue of elimae with Eric Burke, Peter Schwartz, Meghan Lamb, Kristina Marie Darling, Brian Oliu,Jimmy Chen, Shane Jones, MG Martin, and Helen Vitoria. Brian also has short fiction in Shelf Life.

Hobart brings us something from Kevin Wilson.

I really recommend everything in DIAGRAM 11.4 but PANK contributors also bring it hard with work from Adam Peterson (and Laura Eve Engel) and Matthew Vollmer.

Dan Gutstein has a new book of poetry out, Bloodcoal & Honey.

At Freerange Nonfiction, you will find an essay, The Dative Case, by Daniel Nester.

The American All-Stars issue of Beat the Dust includes Matthew Salesses, Lindsay Hunter, and AD Jameson.

Sinners of Sanction County, by Charles Dodd White, can be pre-ordered from Bottom Dog Press.

A man nearly died on my driveway last night.

He’d done a huge amount of some naracotic then wandered the trailer park before ending up at my house at three a.m. 

The man fell against the front of my house then knocked on the window. I think he fell against my house while pissing on it, and then unable to pull his pants up, knocked three times—knock, knock, knock—before stumbling with his pants around his ankles into my driveway where he collapsed on his back beside my car, arms like Jesus-on-the-cross.

My car was unlocked, not usually something I do, and not something I realized until this morning, but it was unlocked. I believe the man was too far gone by then to try and get inside it, never mind trying to steal it.

I’d also left three windows of the house partially opened. Again, I doubt the man got any further than my driveway. What I mean to say is, I don’t believe he had enough faculties about him to wander the perimeter of my house in search of a way inside. Anyway, both my dogs barked soon as they heard him. I heard him too. I’d fallen asleep in the living room on the couch watching TV and soon as I heard those knocks I was awake. Wide awake, heart thumping. A rush of air in my ears. 

I remained on the couch at least a minute wondering if I’d imagined the knocks then lied still another minute listening. The dogs didn’t bark again. I didn’t hear anything.  I got up and went to my son’s room. He was asleep and fine. I moved about the house peering out windows. From my kitchen window I thought I saw something on my driveway. 

I grabbed my glasses then looked again. Yes. A man lied on his back in my driveway beside my car. Quickly, I got my phone then dialed 911. Soon as I explained my emergency to the dispatcher she told me not to go outside because the man may be trying to fool me into opening the front door or worse, step outside the house. 

“No problem,” I told her. “How fast will the police be here?”

The dispatcher said any minute and kept her voice calm and offered to stay on the line with me. I told her I didn’t think the man was moving, and so we disconnected. He was motionless on my driveway. I lifted my phone and switched to camera and then tried to get a picture of him through a space between the slats of my window blinds. It was too dark; the camera couldn’t see anything. I stood at the window shivering. The man didn’t move at all. 

Later one of the cops, a woman, told me, “If you hadn’t called he would have died.”

A man dying in my driveway.

My son and I could have woke to a dead man in front of our house the next morning. 

Maybe when he knocked three times it was please help me: knock, knock, knock.  

“He’s on something,” the cop told me. “Definite overdose.” 

But the cops weren’t sure what he’d taken. I just kept thinking meth. He was the Meth-od Man. The female cop couldn’t find his pulse, too weak, and he was unresponsive to their voices, even when they spoke loudly and into his face. They touched him with gloves on; they poked him, shook him, pushed his shirt back and touched him, nothing.

When the female cop lifted his eyelid then shone her flashlight into his eye, more nothing. 

I stood at the top of the driveway. Shiver after shiver after shiver. 

“Do you know him?” she asked.

The Meth-od Man wore a black tee shirt, blue boxer shorts, jeans around his ankles, and white socks with stains on the bottoms, no shoes. He had short dark hair. He was thin, pale, youngish. I noted a cut above his eye. One hand was bloody.

The cops noted bruises across his ribs and stomach. Maybe somebody had pounded him, and the blood on his hand meant he’d defended himself. They weren’t sure. All they felt sure of was he’d taken something, and he’d taken too much. 

“No,” I said.

“Have you seen him before?”

“No,” I said. And then I thought of my mother.

When the ambulance arrived, the paramedics did something that revived the Meth-od Man enough he became agitated. He groaned as he swung his arms. The cops got him on his stomach and cuffed him.  

The male cop grilled him. “Where do you live? Do you live around here? What are you doing here? Are you on something? What did you take? Tell me, listen, can you hear me? What did you take? Listen. What’s your name?”

Mumble. Mumble. Mumble. “Richie.”

He tried to fight again as they loaded him onto a stretcher. “Homeboys,” he said. “Don’t.”

Seven months ago, my mother killed herself with meth, an overdose. She died alone in her apartment. By then, we hadn’t spoken in years. She lived in Utah. I was embarrassed by her life choices and had separated myself from her completely. I didn’t want her or her red-eyed, toothless boyfriend anywhere near my son. Trash.

Three weeks ago, one of my neighbors informed me meth dealers rent one of the trailers up the street.  My son’s best friend lives catty-corner from us. A lot of children live in the trailer park. Elderly folks, Mexicans, Rednecks too. Other solo moms like me. Ladies and gentleman, behold my demographic. This is what I can afford. In graduate school I called my thesis, “With Love, From the Trailer Park Where I Live.”  Thirteen years I’ve lived in trailer parks, and I’ve never not felt safe. I anticipate the potential prejudice though. Trailer park trash. Hey, I’ve been judgmental. 

This morning, I walked the perimeter of my house and was meticulous about my search. No urine stains on the front skirt.  No dents or scratches to my car. Nothing out of place. All’s well in the trailer park. The Meth-od Man was a ghost.

http://mudlusciouspress.com/nephew/

Baking Soda Volcano
This. Is. A classic. The kids will love this one so much, they’ll finally call you ‘Dad.’ (Hey, better late than never!) Start out by baking a dozen sugar cookies on a baking pan. When they’re finished, set the cookies aside. (Try not to eat one just yet LOL!) Then stand an empty 20-ounce drink bottle in that same baking pan. Fill most of the bottle with warm water, and then add 6 drops of laundry detergent. Place your hand on a hot stovetop while adding two tablespoons of baking soda to the liquid. Then slowly pour in vinegar. Watch the volcano erupt and start eating those sugar cookies! Let the crumbs just fall all over you! Finally, explain to the rest of your family why you’re burning your hand. Note: have an excuse ready, as they will ask. Just don’t tell them the truth: you’re using the physical pain to replace your mental anguish.

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Make Your Own Rock Candy!
Get ready for some big fun and a delicious treat! First, clip the top of a wooden skewer with a clothespin. If you don’t have a wooden skewer and a clothespin, you can also use the dipstick in your car’s oil resrvoir and a nipple clamp. Second, make a Tom Collins and drink it all in one shot. Drink another Tom Collins. (Hey, you deserve it!) Then wash out the collins glass and hang the skewer/dipstick down into it. The skewer/dipstick should be about 1 inch from the bottom of the glass. Wait three to seven days, then check the skewer/dipstick. Are there sugar crystals? Of course not. How could there be crystals? You didn’t finish all of the steps, including the part where you need to make sugar water. Moral: Always finish what you start.

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Ready, Set, Accelerate!
Using a particle accelerator, collide heavy nuclei. You can use atoms of iron or gold. Make sure you collide the nuclei at energies of several GeV per nucleon. Write in your journal the various observations you make regarding the dynamics and structure of matter, space and time. Note: this is a home experiment only if you’re renowned quantum phsyicist Brian Greene.

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Banana Trick
Place an unused condom over a whole banana. Knock on your neighbor’s door and, when he invites you in, tell him you have to use the bathroom. Instead of going to the bathroom, sneak into his bedroom and place the banana with a condom on it under his pillow. After a few days, he’s bound to find the banana. When he tells you about it, tell him you know how it happened, but he has to pay you $100 for an explanation. He’ll have no choice but to pay you. Note: there are probably other ways to get the $100 your neighbor owes you as well.

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Become A Different Person! Like Magic!
Open the word processing program on your computer and create an outline for a novel. Don’t hold back, it could be anything! Save your outline and immediately send it to another novelist, who will do the actual writing of the novel. Congratulations, you’re James Patterson!

Our amazing crime issue is life featuring Chris Offut (!), Aaron Michael Morales, Frank Bill, Eric Shonkwiler, Anthony Neil Smith, Art Taylor, Keith Rowson, and Kyle Minor. Start here with the special issue editor’s Brad Green’s introduction.

Everyone Wants to Live There, by Sarah Malone, is up at Fwriction Review.

Eric McKinley has a story at Staccato Fiction and an open letter up at Run With The Creeps.

At the Reading Local Portland site, Karen Munro has a new story.

Pure Slush features fiction from Todd McKie, Len Kuntz, Hazel Foster, and others.

The September issue of Bluestem includes Meghan Lamb, Adam Moorad, Faith Gardner, Amorak Huey, Brett Elizabeth Jenkins, Mather Schneider, Gary Percesepe, Rose Hunter, Carolyn Zaikowski and others.

Moon Milk Review has fiction by Meg Pokrass.

The Texas Observer is featuring Brad Green’s Fixing Miss Fritz.

You will find Eric Beeny’s novel excerpt at Matchbook.

At Used Furniture Review, Joseph Cassara, Tyler Gobble, Christina Murphy, Chloe Caldwell, Joe Kapitan, Corey Mesler, and an interview with Heather Fowler.

We’ve surpassed firecode on our Facebook profile page, 5,000 strong, and the requests keep on a comin’. So we’ve started a fan page that everyone can “like” instead. Same great way to stay connected with PANKsters the world over, waaaaaaaaaay more head room. Go like it.

We at Bowdlerized Books love literature. That much is certain and cannot be disputed. We live for the moment we read a great book and our minds start swirling as if suddenly activating parts of our brains that have atrophied. It is the richness and depth of the great masters that sends us into the sky, mentally swooning at the texture and complexity of classic literature. It’s exactly this complexity that, in turn, inspired us to establish Bowdlerized Books. New books are great. They are tomorrow’s canon, but it’s important for us to preserve the classic novels that serve as the foundation for us all.

But therein lies the problem. People are growing dumber. We all have a bit of Neanderthal in us and that beast within is rising up against civilized man, taking control of us and forcing us to embrace our baser instincts. For instance, how many of you are reading this site after surfing the internet for pornography? Uh huh. Well, I hope you washed your hands. After visiting NaughtyNaughtyButtBandits.com and  DirtyDancingWithDirtyDirtySluts.org*, your mind is not in any shape to read Tolstoy’s sensitive rendering of the human condition in War & Peace. I bet you found the phrase “the human condition” hopelessly naïve and silly. Your cynicism feeds your apathy which dulls your senses and feeds your stupidity.

We understand and are not judging. This is why Bowdlerized Books proudly salutes publishers who are working hard to bring classic literature by cutting out all that damn classicness: A Moby Dick without distracting chapters on whaling! Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer devoid of offensive racism that might start awkward conversations and hurt people’s feelings! Great Gatsby without all that confusing Greatness!

But those efforts, as bold as they are, do not go far enough! We submit that more books need to be chopped down to size for the modern reader and we won’t rest until every work of classic literature is razed, until every extraneous word, character and sub-plot is removed and dashed into the dustbin of history.

Yes, the modern high school student is not equipped to read Huck Finn as Twain intended it, but it starts before that. The modern  elementary student is also having a tough time with the overly complicated and confusing books of Dr. Seuss, putting classic and delightful works such as, Scrambled Eggs Super!, Hop on Pop and There’s a Wocket in my Pocket out of reach for the average 8-year-old.

This is why the first title from our new line of children’s books will be Seuss’s dense and atmospheric environmental thriller, The Lorax. The story of a lush forest brought to environmental collapse by a greedy industrialist is an important one in this time of Global Climate Change. It is essential, we felt, that young readers understand Seuss’s message as clearly as possible.

Gone are the complicated vocabulary words such as rippulous, Snuvv and gruvvulous. This reader finds such words archaic and difficult to parse. We could not even locate them in any dictionary we consulted. We would never accuse such an accomplished writer as Dr. Seuss of making up words, but why burden the modern elementary school student with seldom used words from another generation? We replaced those words with rippled, pocket and…well, to tell you the truth, no one here was sure, what the good doctor was getting at with gruvvulous. None of us here have Ph.ds like the learned Dr. Seuss, so that one is lost to time unless a dear reader out there would like to enlighten us.

Also gone are references to old technology such as the Whisper-Ma-Phone, which as far as we can tell, went out of use sometime in the early 1970s. The odd harem-like relationship between the Lorax and the Brown Barbaloots and the Swomee-Swans, we felt, was a bit much for modern children so that has also been toned down.

Here are some examples from the book:

The Lorax was a gopher-like animal who lived in a tree. The Once-ler arrived one day and chopped down said tree. That really made the Lorax mad.

“Say Mr. Once-ler

Why you chop down my home?

Keep it up

And I’ll put one in your dome.”

As you can see, we toned down the author’s rhyming structure, which often muddles the message for youngsters raised on Yo Gabba Gabba, The Backyardigans and Ni hao, Kai-lan—whatever the hell that is. As the story progresses, we see the Once-ler continue to pollute and steal resources until the community is sucked dry of all native flora. All the animals leave, even the Lorax.

Here we present Seuss’s moving conclusion with its dramatic message intact and just a bit clearer. The Once-ler, older and wiser, explains the true meaning of the Lorax’s message:

As the pollution worsened, The Lorax split, leaving behind a plaque that read “UNLESS.” And you know what that means? Unless, you people don’t get up and start writing letters to your senators and your representatives, the environment will get worse and humanity is doomed. And it’s all because of Global Warming, which is undoubtedly a real thing and definitely caused by human and Once-ler activity. What a shame.

Our version is much more striking and direct than Seuss’s, which reads: “UNLESS someone like you/cares a whole awful lot,/nothing is going to get better/It’s not.”

As you can see, gone is the rhyming verbiage, but Seuss’s magic remains.

We can hear the detractors now: What about the author’s intentions? Where is the beauty in the language? Blah. Blah. Blah.

These people are living in a different time. A time before the hegemony of Elmo, the Muppet who serves as the patron saint of dumbing-down. If there were a dumbing down committee, Elmo would head it. Our detractors don’t realize that Seuss and all other classic authors just want people to understand their visions. Damn the language. Had Seuss composed the Lorax in 2011, this is the book he would have written. Just as if Twain had written Huck Finn in 2011 he would have changed all the niggers to niggas. This sort of updating is the least we as modern people can do to preserve these author’s visions.

These books, keep in mind, in no way replace the originals. Readers can still pick up the archaic version of The Lorax if they prefer. When children reach the age of 18 or 19, they can appreciate the nuances of Seuss’s language, but we just want the author’s work to continue being read by children and adults alike and we will make sure that happens even if we have to destroy Seuss’s books in the process.

Soon we will be bringing out many other streamlined classics, such as Goodnight, Gorilla and Goodnight, Moon, both of which are too verbose for today’s pre-schoolers.

Join us next week when we present excerpts from our abridged Cat in the Hat. Here is a sample:

Rainy day in house.

Surprise! Strange feline arrives.

Wears hat. Brings pain. Leaves.

Oh, wait, that’s the whole thing.

*What a shame that many of you pointed your browsers to these web addresses in order to catch a glimpse of a naked naughty butt, some intercourse or the uncloaked breast of a dirty dancing slut.

*

Rion Amilcar Scott writes fiction all over the damn place, tweets @reeamilcarscott and blogs at datsun flambe.

This is a guest post by Caleb J Ross as part of his Stranger Will Tour for Strange blog tour. He will be guest-posting beginning with the release of his novel Stranger Will in March 2011 to the release of his second novel, I Didn’t Mean to Be Kevin and novella, As a Machine and Parts, in November 2011. If you have connections to a lit blog of any type, professional journal or personal site, please contact him. To be a groupie and follow this tour, subscribe to the Caleb J Ross blog RSS feed. Follow him on Twitter: @calebjross.com. Friend him on Facebook: Facebook.com/rosscaleb

Alcohol has historically mixed with authors the way alcohol has historically mixed with club soda and unintentional conception. As you could probably tell, that comparison was made at the tail end of an unfair amount of booze; right now I’m drinking iced red wine. It’s not bad. The chill takes the sting out of the alcohol, leaving a deliciously dulled grape juice flavor.

But this post isn’t about my bohemian brilliance. No, it’s about the unacknowledged bohemian brilliance of other authors. For every Hemingway mojito or Bukowski boilermaker there are unheralded concoctions that have fueled some of the most notorious authors of our time.

Dan Brown – MSG Saki stool sample

True to its Asian entomological roots, this drink, like the product of its famous creator, tastes fine for the duration of the swig but afterwards leaves you thirsty for something less shitty. Then, when you realize this peanut butter-textured anus puke has sold more than 40 million jiggers worldwide, it leaves you thirsty for murder. Fuck you Dan Brown (I’ll text you my apologies later in surge of drunken emotion).

Stephenie Meyer – Arbor Mist and grenadine

This drink takes the best parts of long-loved drink genres—blood-colored grenadine and the romance of a fine wine—and introduces a clever, though morbid, ritual; this drink actually requires you to vomit into the glass and drink it back. This sounds strange, and sure, no way you’d try it, right? Wrong. You will, because every single fucking person in the world will hound you about this concoction until either you regretfully drink it or lie about doing so. But don’t worry, your lies will last. It’s easy to imagine the taste of a Stephanie Meyer drink: “Sure I’ve tried that drink. It’s shitty, right?” Yes, it is.

Chuck Palahniuk – Jack and Coke-a-Cola Classic

After quenching his throat for years on a straightforward Jack and Coke recipe, Palahniuk tried a few others, ranging from the calming chamomile Lullaby bomb to the kitchen sink styled Haunted Pro-Cherry-uh highball. Then, for whatever fucked up reason, he mixed an unintelligible, vomit-inducing mess he called the Pygmy (I’m breaking the 4^th wall here; I can’t even come up with a clever spoof on this title – Pygmy is a terrible, terrible book). Finally, he settled back into his original style with a Jack and Coke Classic. Bartenders and readers rejoiced.

Stephen King – Spooky Inanimate Object Amber Lager

You will really, really want to like this drink. You’ll try it a few times, maybe faking intrigue when neighbor barflies expectantly wait to discuss the nuances of the malty texture and hoppy bitterness. You’ll nod, say, “yeah, I like the…” and fill the pause with some standard phrase about popularity being indicatively of amazing complexities of the drink, when really you want to scream, “it’s the same fucking drink this brewery has produced for years!”

James Patterson – THE JAMES PATTERSON (with vermouth)

This guy doesn’t even mix his own drinks. Instead, he shouts the name of his drink to the bartender, and then whispers any additional ingredients afterwards as if to downplay their role in the overall success of the drink. Supporters say this allows him to maintain his projected sense of importance to the drink experience while training new ingredients for their own starring roles. Critics say vermouth tastes better alone. The critics are probably right.

Attention shoppers: Life is hard, I know. There are many trials and tribulations, and some of your problems simply can’t be fixed. You want to hit an ‘undo’ button on some of the decisions you’ve made, but you can’t because there is no such button. Maybe you should have thought things through before you did what you did. Well, hindsight is 20/20, right? And speaking of 20, you can save 20% on select cameras in our electronics department!

Attention shoppers: Let’s face it, you’ve got skeletons in your closet and they’re not pretty! Then again, STD’s are rarely pretty. Well, while you’re getting rid of that nasty disease, you might as well get rid of those old clothes in your closet, too…because we’re having a clearance in the menswear department!

Attention shoppers: Thanks for choosing our store! Now, if only you could have chosen your own spouse! Arranged marriages stink, I know. But don’t worry: you’ll learn to love each other! Just like you’ll learn to love our incredible everday low prices!

Attention shoppers: Today, you’ll find tons of clearance items in our shoe department. Also, there’s no such thing as God.

Attention shoppers: My daughter just checked again. She is indeed pregnant. And you have to be the father because she says you’re the only one that slept with her in the last six months. So you might want to shop that sale in childrenswear, unless you’re one of those deadbeat dads.

Attention shoppers: There is a blue Chevy Blazer, license plate number “H46C9,” in the parking lot with its lights on. If this is your vehicle, please report to Al Gore.

Attention shoppers: Did you know that, according to quantum mechanics, the patterns of string vibrations in string theory come in superpartner pairs, differing from each other by a half unit of spin, and that some of these string vibrations will correspond to the known elementary particles, which means string theory makes the prediction that each such known particle will have a superpartner? Speaking of “known” particles, did you “know” we’ve lowered our prices throughout the store, “particular”-ly in our houseware department?

Attention shoppers: I was just kidding about my daughter being pregnant and how you’re the father. I don’t even have a daughter. But I just wanted to make a point that the sale in childrenswear is really good. Sorry, it won’t happen again.

ATTENTION SHOPPERS: YOU’RE PROBABLY WONDERING WHY I’M YELLING SO LOUDLY! IT’S BECAUSE I’M CURRENTLY IN AN F-15 FIGHTER JET FLYING OVER A WAR-TORN NATION IN THE HOPES THAT I CAN FINALLY HELP IT DISCOVER THE MERITS OF DEMOCRACY! B-T-W: BIG SALE IN WOMENSWEAR!

Attention shoppers: Regarding that mission in the war-torn nation: I’m afraid I had to abort it. I ejected from the F-15 three days ago at quite a high altitude and have landed at coordinates I’ve yet to distinguish. Speaking of distinguish: you’ll look awfully distinguished in a new suit, many of which are on sale now through the end of the month. Okay, have to go now. I hear someone coming. Not sure if they’re friend or foe.

Attention shoppers: Sorry I have to whisper, but better safe than sorry. Okay, it looks like whoever was coming is gone now. ‘Whoever’ or ‘whomever’? Not sure. The only thing I am sure of is that I haven’t eaten or drank anything in three days. Also, I have no idea where I am. But I know where you are: right in the middle of big savings on all your favorite tennis shoes. Christ, I’m thirsty.

Attention shoppers: Again, sorry I have to whisper. Been hiding out for days. Need some help. Hungry. Thirsty. Sun is hot. But not as hot as the prices as, of, the…forget it.

Attention shoppers: Been a week now. Thirsty. So thirsty.

Attention shoppers: I think it’s ‘whoever.’

Attention shoppers: Do you like wizards?

Attention shoppers: I’m back! Rescued! Drinking water. So good! And food, too! Apparently, U.S. forces heard very distinct sounds in the background of my announcements that helped them distinguish where I was. Good thing Vice President Joe Biden was shopping at the time! Heading home now, and you should, too! But not without hitting our sports department, where everything is 20% off. Hey, I still got it! Yeah!