Vincent Sapone

When she finally died, and I could think for a moment, I wondered only how I could join her.

Though the sky was dark but I knew it was still daytime. Everything was trashed. What the hell happened?

I can recall you there
Sitting ‘pon my shoulder

For the pulps and short-attention-spans: just the ending from my short story "Brother".

department stores attract horrid, unchecked children

...her nail polish on the rug…

...spare me this time, Sock Faerie…

“I’ve never killed one this way,” Vincent said, walking to the kitchen to search for a plastic bag to put the heads in.

most violent fisherman I ever met