Jersey Devil Press June 2016, Issue 79

ISSN2152-2162

OnlineEditor:LauraGarrisonProductionEditor:SamuelSnoek-BrownAssociateEditor:MonicaRodriguez

Readers:RebeccaVaccaro,AmandaChiadoFoundingEditor/Publisher:EirikGumeny

Allstoriesandothercontributionsarecopyrightedtotheirrespectiveauthorsunlessotherwisenoted.

www.jerseydevilpress.com

Table of Contents:

Editor’s Note 3

Dry Bucket, Kristina Mottla 4

The Binge Watcher, Jonathan Howell 9

Jezebel Behind the Cosmetics Counter at Macys, Allison Thorpe

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Dr. Bruce, Z.Z. Boone 21

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Editor'sNoteYouknowhowsometimesyougetupforaglassofwaterinthemiddleofthenightandcatchaglimpseofyourselfinthebathroommirrorinthedimblueglowofthenightlightandrealizeyouarelookingatanalternateuniversewhereeverythingisalmost,butnotquite,thesameasitisinourworld?Thisissuehasalotofthatfeeling.Therearethreestoriesaboutordinarypeople―awomanwhonevercries,atelevisionenthusiast,andaninsuranceclaimsadjuster―whohaveextraordinaryexperiences,andonepoemaboutanextraordinarypersonwhoworksinthatmostordinaryofplaces,adepartmentstore.—LauraGarrison

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DryBucketKristinaMottlaEndings,beginnings,nights,mornings,theycircledaboutmyhead,nippingeachother’stails.Familyleftmessages.Friendstexted.NeighborsdubbedmeScary-Gal-in-Number-9.

Thelossofmyjob,thistimetotheboss’sniece,hadturnedmeintoadesertinbleakheat,angersizzlingalongmyskin,allmiragessquashed.Howmanyentry-levelLAmarketingpositionswereleftformetocrack?Thequestionkeptmyeyesdrierthantinder;mycheekssandpaperwrackedbywind.

Asanelderlywomaninthesupermarketlineoncesaidinmyyouth,tearsareforpeoplewithoutstrongbones.

Savingsaccountsultimatelydwindlefortheunemployed,andsotheydidforme.Soon,thesliveroflightbeneathmydoormorphedfromaflatlineintoareprimand.Iheadedtothemallfoodcourtinresponse.There,yearsbefore,behindthecounterofthefamily-ownedSmoothieville,Ihadmademyfirstpaycheck,dumpedmyfirstboyfriend,lostmyfirstjob.

Themallfoodcourtceilingdangleditscement-headedraysacrossmytable.Aroundme,othergroups-of-onesettledinsimilarly,shouldersovertheirfoodorpaperwork,eyesontheirforksorsmartphones,eachofusbakinginourownpans,eachofusnotthinkingofourselvesashotoilontheedgeofpoppingout.Ispentthenextfiveminutesdiggingintomychickenteriyakibowl,avoidingeyecontactwithSmoothievilleandplanningconsecutivemalllunches,fromtomorrow’sveggiesubtonextweek’scobbsalad,readytomapouttheyear,whenanoddballwomanploppeddownacrossfrommeasifI’dbeenexpectingher.Herdarkbrown,red-streakedhairburstfromherheadintatteredbraids.

Itookabiteofrice,eyeingherbutnot.

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“You,Lyla,needabridge,”shesaid,leaningforward.Herwrinklescuttrenchesbeneathhereyes.“Iknewittryingonshoesthreefloorsdowntenminutesago.”

Behindmeadooropenedtothemallpatioandthesmellofburgersandpastaandcurryswirledaboutthefoodcourtonanewleaseofwind,makingafragrantoddity(curry-burger-pasta?).Andhowdidsheknowmyname?“I’dliketoeatmylunchalone,lady.”

“Ofcourseyouwould!”shehollered.Afewpatronsglaredmyway.Shereachedoverandgrabbedmyhands,shakingtheforkfrommyfingers.“Letmeseethem.”

Myhandsinhersturnedmysightintoadesert.Suddenlyourfleshydigitsweremilesandmilesofblandsand,never-endingandnever-beginningsand,heatblurringonthedrabkhakitarp,changeneveronthehorizon...

“Tut,tut,Lyla.Youhavemisfortuneroostingandyouneedmetospookitout.”Shesaidspookwithaforwardjerkofhershoulders,soIgothookedinhereyes.Theysankdeepaswellsandpulledmedownlikeadrybucketinneedoffilling.Thenhervoicecamesoftandtwinkly.“Youwillpayme,andIwillsaveyouformyowngood.”

Inodded,feelingcoolinsidethosedeepwelleyes,coolasspringwater,coolenoughtofeelashockofpaincoursingthroughherveins.ThewordsfelloutbeforeIcouldcatchthem:“Iwillpayyou,andyouwillsavemeforyourowngood.”

Thewomandroppedmyhands.“Welldone,”shesaid,passingmeapaperslip.“Here’smyaddress.Bringtwohundreddollarstomorrowatnoon.”

Assheleft,herbareswollenfeetpaddedacrossthetiledcrumbyfoodcourtfloor,herkneegivingwayeveryfivestepsorsoandpromptingthenearestpatrontoliftherbacktostanding.Idecideditwouldn’thurttobringthewomanmoneytohelp,plusextraforshoesandacane.AlreadyIfeltbetterthanthemonthsbefore.

***

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TearsinmyyouthImostlyrememberasstreamletsdownmycheeks,ordisappearingpoolsinmypalms,nothingthatriskedmyvigor,mygrowingolder.Butaftermymothershreddedherbusinesssuitsandsaidcryingwasforlessthanbabies,afterthesupermarketwomantoldmeaboutthetearsandthebones,thenIputthetearsawayforgood.

Thisisn’tapitytale.OverallI’dbeenfed,sheltered,clothedmylife’sentirety.IknewIhaditbetterthanmany,nomatterIgrewuplatchkey,nomatterteenscalledmeLooseLylainhighschool,nomatterI’dneverbeentheprettiest,mynoseaslivertoolongandmyeyesadegreetoowide;nomattertheworldseemedtoshoveashardasIshovedback.

TheHollywoodHillsdippedandclimbedasIdrovethroughthem,bushyfoliagepaddingthefrontyardsofbungalows,Tudors,modernmansions.Themallwoman’scottagewasespeciallyhiddenonitswoodsybend,althoughanypasserbycouldseethroughthetreeshowitsframeleanedasifwithabadback.Thedoorknocker,athicksilverloop,boomed.

Thewomanfromthemallopenedthedoorandappearedbehindthethreshold.Imusthavelookedpuzzled,sinceshereachedandpattedmyarm.“It’sme,dear.Gadnes.”Thenshegesturedtoawomanbesideher,aneartwin.“MysisterBorna.”Thesisterscrossedtothefrontstoop,huddlingnexttome.Gadnesgesturedtothesidegate.“Tothebackyard,Lyla.”

BornaclappedherhandstogetherasIturned.

Spinyshrubs,willowtrees,abundantgrasses,wildflowers,thesmellofthemfilledmelikeanunexpectedbutwelcomevisitor.Aquaintgardenbridge,itsslatsandropeswithering,spannedabarrenditchinthebackcorner.

“Standinthemiddleofthebridge,”Gadnessaid.

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Bornapointedandclappedattherequest,andIdidn’twanttodisappoint,notBornaespecially,notthesisterwho’dlosthervoiceboxinthetreesandseemedtofancyme.(“Anoccupationalhazard,”Gadneslatersaid.)AndsoIstoodinthecenter,peeringatthedryditchthesizeofakoipondbeneath,wonderingwhetherthesisterswouldfillit,maybeevenwitharockgarden.That’swhentwoslatsandtheditchbeneaththemsuddenlybrokefreeandsentmefallinguntilIcaughtmyself.Amileofairnowseparatedmeandtheground;myhandsgrippedthebridge’sropyedge.

Farbelow,onland,asmatteringofgreenishcreaturessnappedattheair.Fromsomewhereinthebushes,Gadnesshrieked,“Why!?”Thenshecamecloseandshookthebridgeuntiloneofmyhandsletgo.“Why?Why?”

Ishookmyhead,shiftingmygripandbringingthefreehandbacktotherope.“What?”Words,likethecloudsabovecurlinginwaves,crashing.

Gadneswhooped,“Wrong!”andthrewherheadbackandlaughedandlaughed,untilhermouthfoamedandIthoughtsheorImightvomit.

Itwasthenmytearductsfeltasthoughtheywouldbustopenandleteverythingtumbleout,myveinsandheartvalves,myjoblosses,mydryeyes,myparentsandfriends,myintestines,mynights,theissueofthiswomanGadnesmakingahorrorsceneofmeandnotcaringifIdied.Thensweatstreakeddownliketears,downmytemples,downmynose,downmycheekslikeinvisibleroads,andwhatofmysituationnow?

“There,there,”Gadnessaid,comingcloseandpushingastrandofwethairfrommyeye,“nowdon’tyoufeelbetter?”

AndGadnespulledmeup,andBornapulledmeintoherarms,andthereIweptandweptuntilthekoiditchfilledandtheyardfilledandGadnesandBornatookmymoneyandwewereswimmingtogetheranddivinglikewhales.

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KRISTINAMOTTLAwritesfictionandpoetry.ShehasaBAandanMFA.HerworkhasappearedorisforthcominginsuchplacesasBarnstorm,HartskillReview,BeneathCeaselessSkies,TheRaintownReview,andPotomacReview.

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TheBingeWatcherJonathanHowellFranklinPaulsatonthecouchbarelyawarethatitwasaclearnight.HehadonehandonhisiPhoneandanotherontheremote.ThroughthewindowthemoonhungfullandlargewithabluishtintasifilluminatedbyabillionLEDs.

Franklinwasnotfatandnotslim.Hehadacherub-likequalitythatmadehimlookyoungerthanhistrueage.Hefeltyoungtoo,althoughhedidn’texerciseorplayanysports.Hepreferredtobelyingdown,andifthatwasnotpossible,sitting.

Hehadslunkfromthediningroomtothecouchthateveningafterdinnerwithhiswifeandchild.Hismovementswereevenmoreefficientthanusualasifhewereconservingenergy.Hesloweddownhisbreathingandwidenedhiseyestotakeinthebrightpixelsanddeepdigitalblacksoftheflat-screentelevision.Itcreatedawarmthfromhistoestohisbrain.Hiswifewenttotucktheirdaughterintobed,leavingFranklinaloneintheTVroom.ItoccurredtoFranklinthathecouldwatchtheentirelastseasonofTheFusethatnight.

Hisjobasapropertymanagerallowedforsomeflexibility.Tomorrowhecouldsleepinandcomeinlate.Butitwasmorethantheabilitytosleepinoractualinterestintheshowthatfueledhisdesire.HesawitasanOlympianintellectualfeatinfocus,amarathonofentertainment.Afterwatchingtheentireseasoninonesitting,hewassurehewouldobtainsomenewrevelationorunderstandingthatwouldnotbepossibleifhewatchedtheshowoveralongerperiodoftime;abinge-watchingsessionwouldintensifyhisunderstandingofthecomplexseries.Hewantedtoknowhowitworked.

Franklinputapillowbehindhimandsatuprighttostayawakeandfocused.Hedetestedpeoplewhofellasleepwatchingshows,asiftheyweresleepingonthejob.Heplantedhisfeetfirmlyontheground,settheremotenearbyonanarmrest,loadeduptheNetflix

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apponthetelevision,andpulledupTheFuse,seasonthree,agrittydetectiveproceduraltakingplaceinOakland,California.Thefirstepisodefocusesonayoungmanwhogoestoaparty,buyssomedrugs,andoverdoses.Thewealthy,grievingparentsareathisfuneral,andinthebackgroundisLydia,oneoftheshow’smaincharacters.

Theepisodeended,leavingFranklinintrigued.Whenthecountdownappearedduringthecredits,Franklinclickedtoskiptothenextepisode.Now,theshowre-introducestherestofthemaincharacters:amalepolicedetectivenamedBrad,thepolicecaptain,acitycouncilman,and,ofcourse,Lydia,afemaleprivateinvestigatorhiredbythefamilytofigureoutwhosoldthedrugsthatkilledtheson.TheshowcutstoLydialosingfocuswhileinterviewingthedeadboy’sparents.Itwasafamiliarstory:goodstudent,athlete,neverdiddrugsbefore.Meanwhile,Bradisatthepolicestationboredoutofhismindtypinganarrestreportforasmall-timerobbery.Thepolicechiefdropsanewcaseonhisdesk—theoverdosedeathoftheboy,thesamecaseasLydia.

Likethepriortwoseasons,thesecharacterswouldfindthemselvesinsituationswheretheywereforcedtoshareinformation,worktogether,anddealwiththeirsexualtension.Whenthesecondepisodeended,Franklin’swifecamedown.Itwasjustafter11p.m.,andsheaskedhimifhewasgoingtobed.Franklintoldherhewasnottiredandplannedtostayuplate.

TheNetflixmenushowedatotaloftenepisodes,twodown.Eachepisodewasalittlelessthananhourlong.Ifhewatchedtherestoftheepisodes,skippingcredits,hewouldbedonebyaround7:00a.m.Hecouldsleepfortwohoursandbeatworkby10:30.Franklinsmiled.Hewaspleasedwithhimselfandhisplan.Theworldwasfilledwithamazingshowsofsuchhighquality,andhewasluckyenoughtoexperienceitinthewayitwasintended:anunbrokenstreamofstory.Heagainstraightenedhimselfandpreparedforcompleteattentionlikeascholaropeningaseminaltext.Forabriefflash,heimaginedhimselfimpressingcolleaguesandfriendsasherecountedtheplotlinesofeachepisodewithgreatclarityandcontinuity.Heclickedthe

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nextepisode.Themalepolicedetective,Brad,interviewspeoplewhowereatthepartyandeventuallyarrestsateenagerwhoisbelievedtohavebroughtthedrugs.LydiafindsoutaboutthearrestandthatBradisnowonthecase.ShegetsupsetwithBradfornottellingheraboutthearrestearlier.

Franklin’sphonevibrated.Itwasatextfromafriendinhisfantasyfootballleaguelookingtogloatoversomerecentsuccess.Franklinpausedtheshowandbegantotypeamessagebackbeforestoppinghimself.Ifhewasevergoingtogetthroughtheseasontonight,hewouldhavetocutoutdistractions.Heputhisphoneonsilentandplaceditfacedownonthecoffeetable.Heresumedtheepisodeandwatchedasitcuttoacitycouncilmanworkingwithlocalbusinessleaderstopushapro-businessinitiative.TheepisodeendswithBradintheinterrogationroomwiththedrug-dealingteen.Lydiawatchesthroughatwo-waymirror.

Franklinfeltcomfortable.Thecouchseemedsofter,moreluxurious.Hefeltawake,alive,andhungryforanotherepisode.Netflixqueueditupandcounteddown.Franklinwaitedeagerly.Thebingewatchingwasturningouttobeasgoodasheexpected.Thesumoftheepisodeswasgreaterthanitsparts.

Justbeforethenextepisodestarted,Franklinsprungoutofthecouchtogetacoke.Thecoldcanfeltgoodinhishand.Thepopandhisswhenheopeneditsoundedcrisp.Ittastedsweeter.Hissenseswereelevated.Hefeltmorealive.Theseweresigns,heknew.Iloveitwhenaplancomestogether,Franklinthought.

Thenextepisodedelivered.Thedrugdealerconfessesafteranintenseinterrogationthatincludessomemildphysicalviolenceandlightpsychologicaltorture.ThedrugiscalledTwilight,hetellshim,anewsyntheticcompoundnotyetonanypoliceorDEAradars.He’sgettingitfromanemployeeatachemicalfactoryjustoutsidethecity.LydiaandBradshareanintimatemomentandsheletsitslipthatshedoesn’tlikeherclients,thewealthyparentswhodidn’tseemtocareabouttheirkiduntilhewasdead.TherelationshipbetweenBradand

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Lydiaheatsupandhetellshertostayoutoftheinvestigationbecauseheisconcernedforher.OfcourseLydiadoesn’ttakeordersfromanyone,manorwoman.Theepisodeendswithhergoingundercoverasanemployeeofthechemicalfactory.Bradiscompletelyunawareofwheresheisandunabletohelpifsomethingweretohappen.

Franklinnoddedasthecreditsrolled.HehadanurgetoapplaudLydiaforhertenacitybutdidn’twanttomaketoomuchnoiseandwakehiswife.Witheachrollingofthecreditsandthebriefmomentofrealitybetweenepisodes,Franklinknewthisleveloftensionandrelease,thislevelofentertainment,wasonlyachievablethroughamarathonwatchingsession.Spreadingtheseepisodesoutoveramonthseemedcriminalincomparison.Ifyouweregoingtospaceitoutlikethat,whyevenbother,Franklinthought,andheshookhishead,certainofthisprofoundtruth.

ThenextepisodeopenedwithLydiasnoopingaroundthefactory.Withinafewminutes,Franklin’sstomachfeltill.Hereadjustedtomaximizecomfortbutthenhesitated.Aslightnauseasweptoverhim.Sugar,caffeine,carbonation,caramelcoloring,liquid,somethingwasupsettinghisstomach.HepausedNetflixtousethebathroom.Hepassedthroughthekitcheninthedarkandgropedalongthewalluntilhefoundthelightswitch,thensquintedwhenthelightcameandpausedamomenttolethiseyesadjust.Hemovedquicklytorelievehimself.Ashewasstandinginfrontofthetoilet,henoticedthebathroomwasnotquiteright.Allthefixtureswerethereandintheirrightplaces,butthingsweremissing.Therewasnomatinfrontofthetubortoilet.Therewasnohandsoap.Therewasnotowel.Eventhelittlevaseandfakeflowerhiswifehadputoutweregone.Franklinwasatfirstconcerned,thenshruggeditoff.

Hereturnedtothecouch,pulledablanketaroundhimself,andsettledinstaringatthescreen.Hefeltabitunsureaboutwhatdotonext.Ageneraluneasinessstillpresseduponhimlikethefeelingofwakingfromavividdream.Herubbedhiseyes,shookitoff,andcontinuedtheepisode.Franklingropedoutaroundthecoffeetableforhisdrinkbutrememberedthathehadfinishedit.

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Theepisodecontinued,flashingbetweenLydiaasanundercoveremployeeandBradwhoislookingforher.Hehassomekeyinformationthathasnotbeenrevealed.Franklingrewbored.Theepisodedraggedandhadnorhythm.Itdidn’tmaintainthetensionhecraved.TheepisodeendswithLydiaabouttoopenthedoortoaroomwheredrugsarebeingstored.Thecamerafadestoblackandthecreditsroll.

Franklinleanedbackinhischairandfoldedhisarmsacrosshischest.Helovedtheshow.Helovedtalkingabouttheshow.Helikedbreakingdownandanalyzingtheconflicts,characters,andtheplot.Helikedmullingovertheirproblems.Thisepisode,however,wasundeniablyunderwhelming.Asanavidwatcheroftelevision,though,hewasunperturbed.Perhapstheyhadalesserdirectorhandlethisepisodeinthemiddleoftheseason.Franklinyawnedanditchedhisstomach.Hewatchedthenextepisode,whichwasequallyunderwhelming.Itfocusedonthecitycouncilmanandhisgrowinginterestintheinvestigation.Therewaslessactionandmorelong-windedspeechesbetweenthecouncilmanandthepolicechief.

Franklingrewwearyandwenttothekitchenandpoppedopenanewdietcokehopingforthatsameenhancementofthesenseshe’dexperiencedearlier.Thunderclappedashetookasip.Franklinstoodinthekitchen,puzzled.Hehadtoremindhimselfitwasthemiddleofsummer.Perhapsitwasduetothehumidity,hethought.Althoughhecouldn’trememberthelasttimetherehadbeenastormthistimeofyear.Hewalkedtothekitchenwindowbutcouldn’tseeoutside.Thestarsandmoonwerenotvisible.Earlierithadbeenawarmsunnydaywithclearskies.Thestormbroughtadensecloudcover.Therewasthefaintsoundofadrizzle.Heputhishandagainsttheglassanditwascold,almosticy.Franklinshiveredandretreatedtothewarmthofthecouch.

Hesatbackdownjustasthecountdownwasfinishingandthenextepisodewasbeginning.Hewatchedtheopeningsequencefollowedbyashortrecapofthepreviousepisode.Beforetherecapwasover,the

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episodepausedandalittlespinningwheelappeared.Franklinbowedhishead.ThiswasthespinningWheelofDelay.ThewheelthattoldFranklintheNetflixinnerworkingsweretryingtosolvesomeproblem.Thewheelthenstopped.Amessageappearedonthescreen.TheconnectiontotheInternethadbeenlost.

Franklingruntedangrilyashepulledhimselfoutofthecouch.Hebeganatroubleshootingritual.Heturnedoffthetelevisionanddisconnectedthewifireceiver,countedtoten,andthenputitbackin.Hewalkedovertothecablemodemandrouteranddidthesame.Wheneverythinghadhappyblinkinglightsheturnedthetelevisionbackonandtriedtorestarttheepisode.TheNetflixapploadedstraightintothespinningwheelandthentheerrormessage.Franklinslammedhishandonthecouch.Hewasgoingtocallandfindoutwhathappened.

Hiscellphonewasn’tonthecoffeetablewherehethoughthehadleftit.Hefounditonthekitchencounternearapileofmail.Oneoftheenvelopeshadbeenrippedopen.Itwasanunemploymentcheckaddressedtohim.Heheldthecheck,readinghisnameandtheamount.Thelettersandnumbersseemedtoscrambleinfrontofhiseyes.Hehadnevercollectedunemploymentinhislife.Itwaslate,anditmustbesomemisunderstanding.Heputthecheckdownandpulledupthecablecompany’swebsiteonhisphone.Itshowednooutages.Hedialedthecustomerservicelineandwastoldtheywereclosed.However,therewasanoptiontoleaveanemergencyvoicemailthatwouldbeforwardedtosomelate-nighttechnician.Withoutdelay,Franklinpushedthebuttontoleaveamessage.Beforehefinishedit,though,heheardasoundcomingfromtheTV.Hehungupthephoneandwentbackouttothelivingroom.ThechannelhadchangedanditwasaninfomercialforstartinganInternetbusiness.

Franklintookafewdeepbreathsandbowedhishead.Hewouldnotletthisstophismarathonsession.Hewasdetermined.Helookedathisphoneanddecidedthescreenwastoosmall.However,hehadaniPadwithacellularconnection.Hesmiled,pleasedwithhimself.Hewasnotgoingtogiveup.Heimaginedhimselfasafamousexplorer

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crossingAntarcticaexperiencinghardshipsandpersevering.FranklintooktheiPadandfireduptheNetflixapp.Hewasbackinbusiness.Itrememberedwherehehadleftoff.

OnceagainFranklinmadehimselfcomfortableonthecouch,pulleduptheblanketandstartedtowatchtheshow.Thequalityofthevideowasmarkedlydegradedcomparedtothetelevision.Cellulartechnologywasjustnotthesameasacableintothetelevision.Theaudiowasalsopoorcomingthroughthetinyspeaker.Franklinmadeapointtofindhisheadphonesassoonastheepisodewasover.

Intheshow,Lydiagoesintothestoreroom,findsthedrugs,andisnearlyoutofthebuildingbeforesheiscaughtbysecurity.Fortunately,theythinksheisjustatrespasseranddon’tknowaboutherdiscovery.Thecopsarresther,andBradfindsherinjail.Allofthishappensquickly,withinthefirsttwentyminutes.Thentheepisodemakesaturnforthesappy.Itbecomesafeel-goodChristmasepisode.Amongthedecorations,mistletoe,andgeneralcheeriness,BradandLydiaadmittheirstrongfeelingsforeachother.HerarrestandsubsequentreleaseunlockedBrad’sdeeplyburiedfeelings.TheepisodeendswithBradconvincingtheDAtodropanychargesagainstLydia,invokingtheholidayspirit.

Franklinwasnothappywiththisepisode,andhewasgrowingwearieroftheseason.Hehadbeendrawntotheshowforitsgrittyrealism.Helikedthehard-chargingattitudeofthecharacters.Helikedtheirinnertensionsthatwereneverreallyexpressedbutalwayspresent.Thisepisodehaddestroyedmuchofthat.

Franklinfelttiredandweary.Heyawnedandblinkedslowly.Perhapsitwastimetocallitanight,hethought.

Hestooduptostretchandsawthecountdownforthenextepisode.Hewatchedasthenumberschanged.Onemoreepisodehethought.Justtakeitonestepatatime.Hejumpedafewtimesandpunchedtheairlikeashadowboxer.No,hethought,Iamnotgoingtoquit.

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Hepausedthecountdownandwenttothekitchenforsomethingtodrink.Hefeltastrongchillthatmadehimshiver.Hewalkedtothethermostatandsawthatitwasoff.Hetappedthescreenafewtimesandshrugged.Somethingwaswrong;noheat,noInternet.Franklindidn’twanttothinkaboutit.Hewouldbecomfortableenoughwiththeblanket.

Inthekitchen,heopenedtherefrigerator,whichwasalmostempty.Abottleofketchupstoodaloneinthemiddleofashelf.Onanothershelfwasashriveled-uporangenexttoaStyrofoamtake-outboxoozinggreenliquid.InoneofthedoorshelvessatacanofRedBull.Hewassurehehadseenmorefoodthereearlier.Allthecokesweregone.Hestoodlookingattherefrigerator,tryingtoprocesswhathewasseeing,cyclingthroughmemories.Hadn'thiswifegonetothesupermarketyesterday?Wherehadallthefoodgone?Helookedathiswatchbuthaddifficultyreadingthetime.Thenumbersblurredtogether.HegrabbedtheRedBullanddrankitquicklybeforereturningtothecouchandresumingthecountdown.

ThenextepisodestartswithBradgettingatipfromaconfidentialinformant,aconcernedbusinessmanwhosawsuspiciousactivitynearhiswarehouse.Hewantstomeetin-persontogiveBradprintoutsofapicturehetookwithhiscellphonethatsupposedlyshowsawell-knownganghangingoutatabuildingindowntown.Hebelievesdrugsarebeingmanufacturedthere,maybeeventhisnewoneheheardaboutonthenews.Halfwaythroughthemeetingtheinformantdropsthephotosontheground.WhenBradgoestopickthemup,theinformantspikeshiscoffeewithsomepowder.Shortlyafterthemeeting,Bradslumpsdowninhischair.HehasbeenslippedalethaldoseofTwilight.HeisrushedtothehospitalwhereLydiastaysbyhisside.Meanwhile,thecitycouncilmanandlocalbusinessleadershaveapressconferenceaboutnewproposalstoincreasejobs.Inthebackgroundistheownerofthefactoryasthescreengoesblackandthecreditsroll.

EventhoughFranklinfeltsickandcold,eventhoughhefeltlightheadedfromthesugarandlackofsleep,hedidn’tstop.The

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episodewasbetterthanthelast,andhewasgettingbackintotheshow.TheTVroomfelteeriewithjusttheglowoftheiPad.Headjustedinhisseat,buthisthighrubbedonapieceofthecouchframewherethecushionhadwornaway.Hecovereditwithanearbypillowandcontinuedwatchingtheshow.

ThenextepisodestartsstrangelywithBradsittinginamovietheaterwatchingamovieabouthislife.Afterwatchingscenesfromhischildhood,anusherleadshimtoanotherroomwithtwocouches.OnonecouchisLydia,andonanotherisaman.Hisfaceisdarkanddistortedlikeitiscomingthroughabadtelevisionset.Lydiaistryingtotellhimsomething,buthecan’tunderstandit.Bradfeelsanurgetorunbutcan’tmovehislegs.Hefallsdown,sinkingintotheflooronlytoawakeninsideacathedral.Heisinalinewalkingtowardapriestwithalargehatandornaterobes.Anotherpriestisnexttohimwearingmoreordinaryclothes.HisfacelooksfamiliarbutBradcan’tplaceit.Ashegetscloserhecanseethattheplain-dressedpriestisgivingeveryonepills—Twilight.Bradtriestomove,buthecan’t;it'sasifheisonaconveyorbelt.Eventuallyheisupfront.HismouthopensinvoluntarilyandhereceivestheTwilight.Withthat,everythinggoesdark.BradopenshiseyesagaintoseeheisinahospitalroomwithLydiabyhisside.Hehasbeeninacomafortwodays.HeandLydiatalkabouthisdreamandwhatwashappeningwiththecase.Whenhetakesamomenttolookattheflowersandget-wellcards,heseesanoldnewspaper.Onthefrontcoveristhecitycouncilmanandbehindhimisthemanherecognizesfromhisdreams—thepriest,nowtheownerofthefactory.

Theepisodeended,andFranklinpausedNetflix.TheshowwassoweirdandoutofcharacterthatFranklinneededamomenttoprocesshissurroundings.ItwaslikehewasdreamingwithBrad.Everythingseemedsurreal.Thisiswhatitmustfeellikewhenexplorersaredeepintoforeignlands,unaccustomedtotheirsurroundings,Franklinthought.Hetriedtostanduptostretchbutfeltweakanddizzy.Hebracedhimselfonthesideofthecouchandtookarapidsuccessionof

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breathsthatnearlycausedhimtopassout.Franklinwasstillconfusedfromthedreamepisode,sohedecidedtoliebackdownandpowerthroughtheremainingtwoepisodes.

ThenextepisodehasBradandLydiafollowingthefactoryowner.Eventuallyhegoestoastoragelocation.BradandLydiacomebacktothesitelatertoconfirmthatthepillshavebeenmovedthere.Theepisodemovedquickly,andFranklinhaddifficultypayingattention.Withoutrealizingit,hewasalreadyhalfwaythroughthelastepisodewhereBradandLydiarecruitthedistrictattorneybecausetheynolongertrustthepolicedepartment.Thisleadstothearrestofthefactoryowner.Thecitycouncilmanundergoesaninvestigationanddisavowsanyknowledgeorsupportrelatedtotheownerorthedrugs.WhoeverpoisonedBradremainsunsolved.TheseasonendswithBradandLydiaopeningaprivatedetectiveagencytogether.

Thecreditsrolled,andnomorecountdownsappeared.Theexpeditionintothelongstreamofentertainmentwasover.Franklinfeltweakfromsittingforsolong,hislegsnumbandtingly.HeputtheiPaddownandtooktheblanketoffbutshiveredfromthecold.Hepickedtheblanketbackupandwrappeditaroundhim.Itseemedthinnerandmoreworn.Nowwiththemorninglightcomingthroughthewindows,thehouselookeddifferent.Thefurniturelookedoldanddusty.Thewallsweredingyandyellowing.Abookcaseappearedtobemissing.

Franklinmadehiswaytothebedroomholdingtheblanketaroundhim.Hepeekedintohisdaughter’sroomandsawitwasempty.Therewasnobed,nodresser,nodollhouse.Asinglepairofpantslayonthefloor.

Hisbedroomwassimilarexceptasheetlaysloppilyoverthebaremattressonthefloor.Hiswifewasgone.Therewasnothingelse.JONHOWELLlivesinLosAngeleswithhiswifeandtwochildren.Hissacredwritingspaceishiscarintrafficonthefreeway.

June2016 19

JezebelBehindtheCosmeticsCounteratMacysAllisonThorpeAqueenreducedtothis:debatingtheshapeofaneyebrow,weighingthemeritsoflilaclipsorpersimmonfrostednails,lingeringtheairwithscentedlures.Iknowsomethingaboutadornments,whatastrong-willedambitiouswomanneedstosurviveinthearenaofmen.Thereareothersmorebeautiful,morewilyinthewaysofselling,butthecustomerscometome.Inudetheirmouthsforboardrooms,scarletthelipsforhungrynights,linetheeyesinsmudgeandsmoke,coatthelidswithshadowgreenenvylikesomegracefulknowingcatwhosepreeningtonguecreamstheshapelylimbs.Apaintedwomanbeforemytime.WhoknowswhatIcouldhaveachievedinthisworld,thisagethatexpects,evendemands,perfection.Icouldwarnthemaboutthedangers,thetightropethatdriveanddesirewalk,butagirlneedscoinonthedresser.

20 Jersey Devil Press

SoIpeddlethewaresofpassion,heightentheculturedgaze,whetthisdesireforthepower,thefeastingofwilddogs.ALLISONTHORPEisawriterfromLexington,KY.RecentworkcanbefoundorisforthcominginTwoHawksQuarterly,MisfitMagazine,SoToSpeak,CrabFat,LiteraryJuice,YellowChairReview,PoetryPacific,andGingerbreadHouse.

June2016 21

Dr.BruceZ.Z. Boone Iamnotcomfortablewithdentists.Notevenmyown,BruceCostello,whomI’vebeenseeingsinceIwasakid.He’sastoryteller,thisguy,andsomeofhistaleshaveproventobelessthanfactual.I’veevenfoundacouple,recappedalmostword-for-word,onan“urbanlegends”website.

I’vestayedawayforovertwoyears.Besidesthephysicaldiscomfort,there’stheexpenseaccruedthankstonodentalplan.ButthatdayatworkwhenIbiteintoapistachioandsuddenlyfeelanunfamiliarsensationinoneofmybackteeth,IquicklypickupthephoneandcallWestportDentalClinic.

Attheclinic,Dr.Bruce—asheinsistsonbeingcalled—tellsmeI’vecrackedamolar.Hesayshecangivemeatemporarycap,butthatIhavetocomebackaweekfromtomorrowforthepermanent.Iapologizeforbeingawayforsolong,butBrucedoesn’tseemtocare.HeshootsmeupwithNovocain,strapswhatlookedlikeaminer’slighttohisforehead,cranksbackmychair.There’sanattractivemiddle-ageddentalhygienistnamedHolli—awomanI’dneverseenbefore—assisting.

“So,”hesays.“How’sthings?”Thingshavebeenshitty.Shittiestofallisthefactthatmygirlfriend

hasmovedinwithsomeveterinarianandtakenmydogwithher.ThedogIcantakeorleave.MygirlfriendIwantback.

“Thingsaregood,”Isay.“That’scool,”Dr.Brucesays.“Alotcanchangeintwoyears.Hell.A

lotcanchangeinaday.”Holligivesmealooklikehold-tight-for-this-one.“YoueverdriveontheMerrittParkwayreallyearlyinthe

morning?”Bruceasks.“Six-fifteen,sunjustcomingup?It’slikeaghosttown.YoumightnotseeanothercarbetweenhereandGreenwich.”

22 Jersey Devil Press

HiseyesshootovertowardHolli.“Whenwasit?Lastweek?”“Wednesday,”shesays.Dr.BrucepullsupastoolandtakesaseatnexttomewhileHolli

arrangesinstrumentsonastainlesssteeltray.“SoI’mdrivingnorthontheMerritt,lonelyasaclam,whenoutof

thecornerofmyeyeIcatchsomething.It’sacar.AKia.Thisweirdcolor.Yellowish-green,likealancedboil.”

Ithinktomyself,doesn’thehaveanotherpatienthecanlookinonuntilthisNovocainkicksin?

“It’spulledoffontheshoulderandI’mlike,‘Hey.ThankGodforcellphones.’AmIright?”

ImakeanoisethatIhopesoundslikeagreement.“Exceptithitsme.We’reontheMerritt.Adeadspoteverythree

miles.SoItrymyownphoneandthereitis.Noreception.Ithinktomyself.What’sthelastthingIneed?AheadlineinsomenewspapersayingMedicalProfessionalBlowsPastStrokeVictim.SoIpullupbehindthecarandIwalkuptothedriver’swindowwhichistintedalmostblack,andItap.”

Dr.Brucestopshereandturnsoffhisforeheadlighteithertopreservethebatteryoraddanelementofforeboding.I’mnotsurewhich.

“Thewindowrollsdownandthereheis.Broadforehead,wide-spacedeyes,teethgapedfarenoughaparthecouldflosswithrope.We’renotjusttalkingugly.We’retalkingcircusugly.”

“I’dhavetakenoffrunning,”Hollisays.“Whichiswhatanysanepersonwoulddo.Notme.Iasktheguyif

everythingisallrightandhetellsmehe’srunoutofgasandasksifIcangivehimalifttothisservicestationupatthenextexit.Hesaysheknowstheguywhorunsit.”

Bruceisonhisfeetnow,hishandsgoing,actingitout.“ImmediatelyI’mthinkingaboutthosestories.Youknowtheones.

Shoveltothebackofthehead,walletlifted,shallowgraveinthewoods.ButI’malsoscaredtosayno.”

June2016 23

“Theroadtoruin...”Hollisays.“NextthingIknowwe’rebackontheroad.Theexithewantsis

maybethreemilesnorth,andwegetthereinnotime.TheguygetsoutattheservicestationandheasksmeifImindwaitingforasecond.Hepopsinsideandhecomesoutwiththis.”

Brucetakesouthiswalletandremovesapieceofpaperfoldedinhalf.

“It’salotterybettingslipandit’salreadyfilledout.‘Playthisonthesixth,’hetellsme.‘Notbefore,notafter.’AndheturnsandstartsbackinsidewhichiswhenInoticeforthefirsttime...”

“Waitforit,”Hollisaysalmosttoherself."...thatthisguyisnotwearingshoesandthathehasnofeet.He’s

likeagoat.He’sgottheseclovenhoofshe’swalkingon.”“Probablyjusttheangle,”Hollisays.“IknowwhatIsaw.”Forafewseconds,allIcanhearisthegurgleofthespitsink.“Sowhatarethenumbers?”Isay,mylowerlipalreadyswellingto

thesizeofabreakfastsausage.Dr.Brucesmilesandreturnsthebettingsliptohiswallet.“Oh,Ican’ttellyouthat,”hesays.“Becausesupposethesenumbers

docomein.SupposeItellallmypatientswhodecideit’sworthachance.Themorewinningticketssold,thelowertheindividualpayout.”

Brucerapsonmybacktoothwiththehandleofoneofthosepokeythingstheyuse.Ifeelnothing.HelooksoveratHolliandshesticksthatsalivasuckerinmymouthasDr.Bruceflipshislightbackon.Theyhoveroneithersideofme.

Thesixth,Irealize,istwodaysfromnow.

Themorningoftheseventh,aSaturday,it’salloverthelocalnews.OneofwinningticketswassoldatTheBeverageBoutiqueoutonOldStateRoad.Thewinnerhasyettostepforward,yettocollectjust

24 Jersey Devil Press

underfourmilliondollars.Ifigurethere’snoway,butIcalltheclinicwherevoicemailinformsmethatDr.Costelloisn’tin,pleasetryagainduringregularbusinesshours,call911ifthisisadentalemergency.

Ihangupandgooutsidetoruntheweedwacker.

Mondaymorning,atwork,Igetacall.Myappointmentforthepermanentcapneedstoberescheduled.Thereceptionistsaysshecansetmeupat4:30onFridaywithDr.Addis.

“IalwaysseeDr.Costello,”Itellher.“Dr.Costelloisnolongerwithus,”shesays.“Wheredidhego?”“Thatinformationisunavailable,”shesays,andIgetthe

impressionthisisn’tthefirsttimetodayshe’sdeliveredthisupdate.“MayIspeakwithHolli?”“Holliisalsonolongerhere.”SoIreschedule.Later,onthewayhome,whenIstopatGulliver’stopickupatake-

outdinner,IseetheheadlineonthefrontpageofTheEveningAdvocate:AREADENTISTSTRIKESGOLD.Andthere’sthispictureofDr.BrucegrinningandholdingagiganticcheckwithHollistandingmaybetwofeetoff.

Mygirlfriend,Kimberly,callsmethatnight.I’mhopingthatshe’sgoingtotellmethatshe’sfiguredthingsout,thatthiswholedealwiththevetwasjustasenselessflingandthatshewantstocomehome.Bethatthecase,Iwon’thesitatetoforgiveher.Butit’snot.WhatKimberlywantsishalfthemoneyinourjointcheckingaccount.Itisn’tmuch—alittleoverathousandbucks—butshehasitfigureddowntothedime.

Igodramatic.Thespurnedex-loverfromsomeLifetimeTVmovie.“Isthatwhatthisisabout?”Iask.“Money?”“Idon’tknow,”shesays.“Partially,Iguess.”

June2016 25

ShewantstoknowifIcanwriteacheckandleaveitinmymailbox.Shesaysshe’llbuzzbyforittomorrowwhileI’matwork.

Iworkasaclaimsadjusterforthisgrade-Zinsurancecompany.You’veseenourcommercials.Thegiraffeonthemotorcycle?Westickourneckoutforyou?That’sus.Myjobkeepsmeontheroad,andthemorningafterKimberlytriestoshakemedown,ImyselfamdrivingnorthontheMerrittParkwayheadingtowardStratford.It’srainingandit’sjustaftereightandtrafficisheavy.I’monmyphonewhenbam.Calldropped,GPSgoesblank-screen.

Andimmediately,Iseeit.Ayellowish-greenKiapulledoffontheshoulderupahead.We’removingslowlyenoughthatIhavenotroublethrowingonmyflashersandpullingoverbehindit.

Please,Ithinktomyself.Igetoutandapproach—therainbeatingdownsoakingmysuit

andflatteningmyhairlikeawetshagcarpet—butthat’snotwhatIcareabout.Icanseewhiteexhaustandthemodelname—Soul—inchrome-platedscript.Icanseethatthecarisminustags.I’mcloseenoughtoalmostreachforwardandtouchthetintedrearwindow.

Andthenittakesoff.Justpullsintotrafficandinsecondsdisappears.Iwanttocallout,butwhatwouldIsay?AllIcandoisstandtherelooking.

Followit,right?ExceptthatwhenIgetbacktomyowncar,itwon’tstart.Ipump

theacceleratorfuriously,butnothing.Astatetrooperfinallyspotsmeandstops.Itellhimthestory,butofcourse,notthewholestory.

“Tryitagain,”hetellsme.ButtheshitboxIdriverefusestoturnover.“Flooded,”hesays.“Giveittenorfifteenminutesandtryitagain.I’llcomebylaterandmakesureyougotoffokay.”

HeleavesandIwaitandsureenough,theenginefiresup.Ieaseintotraffic.I’mshivering,confused.Mybadtoothis

throbbing.Idon’tevenhaveagoddamndoganymore.IknowwhoI

26 Jersey Devil Press

am,butforasecond—justforasecondortwo—IforgetwhereI’mgoing,whyI’mhere,whatI’mlookingfor. Z.Z.BOONE'sfictionhasappearedinJerseyDevilPress,NewOhioReview,PANK,BerkeleyFictionReview,TheMacGuffin,PotomacReview,andotherterrificplaces.

On the cover:

"Stich" Gerardo Cazares GERARDOCAZARESwasbornandraisedinSanAntonio,Texas.Theblacksheepofthefamilyasfarashiscultureandbeliefs,likemetalconcertsandblasphemy,hefeltlikeanoutcastandwentthrougharebelliousphasewhichstilllingers.Hejoinedthearmyat20in2008anddeployedtoIraqin2010,Germanyin2011,andAfghanistanin2013.Sincereturningfromactivedutyin2014,Cazareshasbeenproducingandsellinghisartforaliving.YoucancontacthimabouthisworkviaFacebook(facebook.com/devoutsatx)andInstagram(instagram.com/dfordevout/).