The loud smack of a newspaper resounds out across the spacious, shadowy room that is Jittery Joe’s coffeehouse. The sound only competes with a low, gold-toned jazz trumpet spilling through the speaker system. Chintzy sixties deco chairs and lamps make up the decor, as ceiling fans turn uselessly, doing little to suppress the July heat wave. Carefully Nick lifts his rolled-up newspaper from the table and peers at the underside. Smiling, he looks to Travis across the table and says, “How many is that?”

Giving a cursory glance to a small note pad sitting near the corner of the table, Travis replies, “Twelve.” He reaches over to the pad and places another tally mark next to eleven lines underneath the letter N. To the right of that is the letter T, and seven more tally marks.

“Woo-woo,” Nick says happily. He pulls the carcass of a fly off the paper by its wing and tosses it to the floor where it plops down beside several others. “Damn them all,” he says dramatically through gritted teeth.

“Yes, damn them all,” Travis responds uncommited, still in a trance, his concentration set on the legal pad in front of him.

Read the whole story so far: Carousel Cowboy

Characters and Places: flies, Jittery Joe's, Nick Vaughn, poems, Travis Fleeting

The apartment door opens behind Travis, and Nick steps in looking paranoid, clutching his courier bag in his arms.

“Hey dude,” Ian says.

“Hey,” Nick replies curtly, out of breath. He steps lightly over to the couch, sneaking on his toes, and sits down next to Ian, looking nervous still.

“What’s up?” Travis asks, smiling.

“Yeah, what the hell’s with you?” John asks.

“Nothin’.”

Ian looks over at Nick beside him and asks, “What’s in the bag?”

“Nothin’.” Nick cradles the bag closer.

Ian, Travis and John all lean their attention. “Nothin’ huh?” Ian asks.

Nick just nods, looking more nervous now that they’re all paying attention to him. He tries to whistle for a moment, and gives John a polite wave from the wrist—perfectly innocent, nothing to see here.

“Why don’cha open it up then—” Travis asks.

“If there’s nothin’ in it…” Ian finishes for him.

Read the whole story so far: Carousel Cowboy

Characters and Places: cat, Ian Fleming, John Riffing, kitten, Nick Vaughn, Travis Fleeting

“11:20” appears before Travis like a poke in the eye. The midsummer sun is crawling toward the peak of its arc, pissed off once again that the little orb Earth has crept too close in elliptical drift. Rolling over to face the wall, Travis once again lingers over thoughts of beautiful horses trapped by bronze shafts, on a centrifugal cage of motion, before the visions begin to fade and the phone bill’s due date comes into focus, lying on the floor by the nightstand. Travis looks down toward the foot of his bed where his guitar leans, and shut his eyes.

Fifty minutes later it is after noon and Travis awakens again to rude red numbers screaming that his life is drifting away before his very eyes, but maybe life is better when he is asleep—when he isn’t paying attention to his attentiveness. So long as he is carefree, so long as he can leave painted horses behind him… he sighs, long and hard into the pillow. He closes his eyes for another moment, opens them, and looks at the clock again. A minute has passed. Rolling over on his side, he sets his chin on his forearm and watches the numbers for a while. They seem to be moving along faster than normal. A minute seems to take only twenty seconds, and Travis wonders if it is him or the clock that is out of whack. What an annoying feeling it is, that time is passing—that he is actually noticing time passing. It makes him want to get out of bed and at least go somewhere where he can ignore time for a while. He shoves his damp sheets aside, irritated, and sets his feet on the floor. Squinting at the clock, he smiles at himself before he swings his left hand out in a sweeping arc, knocking the clock to the floor with a crash. * So there*. That feels better.

Read the whole story so far: Carousel Cowboy

Characters and Places: 3D, Athens, Love, Nick Vaughn, Travis Fleeting

At their usual Waffle House table, “How many times have you done it?” Nick asks.

“Just three,” Travis replies. “And honestly, I think this will be the last time… for a while anyway.”

The warmth from the grill, the sizzling of grease, and Johnny Cash singing low from the juke box, greet the boys easy, with a peppy southern waitress to boot. “Mornin’ boys!” She sets out silverware and napkins, but there’s plenty of time to take orders in a minute. Both Nick and Travis nod politely, fiddle with their silverware. The whole cherub yellow room smells like bacon.

“Why’s that?”

Travis shakes his head. “I’m gettin’ too old for this.”

Nick rolls his eyes.

“Naw, seriously. I don’t know. I guess I don’t want to push my luck. I’ve had some really fun times.”

“Everything in moderation.”

Travis makes a little bow of recognition with his hand, “Thank you Mr. Aristotle.”

“Wasn’t that Plato who first said that?”

Travis thinks about it, catching his reflection in the glass, his own face surprising him.

“Socrates,” he says nodding.

“Yeah. Socrates. That’s the dude.”

Read the whole story so far: Carousel Cowboy

Characters and Places: Athens, Nick Vaughn, Travis Fleeting, Waffle House

A blue hue drenches the landscape in silvery glows and tones, saturating everything from aluminum to grass, making it all easy on the eyes—a light syrup coating of color. Travis looks at the world around him and wonders why it can’t be lit like this all the time—why the harshness of the sun had to be. Now, the asphalt of the parking lot, the cars, even the bright scrabble game pieces of the Waffle House sign, normally a hey-ya’ll-happy yellow, have taken on a tolerable softness. The dawn’s early light, when the yellow of that nearest star has not yet pierced everything, is mellow. It is light without a source, bent, and it makes Travis feel clean and his skin as soft as if he were underwater, his arm hairs adrift while he pushes his feet down to the ground, past hovering broken glass and flattened cigarette butts.

As the rubber of Travis and Nick’s boots come down to meet the sidewalk, they are just cradled by a thin padding of welcome. Their gait is long and synchronous as they slide along the world, four lanes and a median of asphalt to their left. Travis and Nick feel as though gravity is less a force and more an attraction; when they are paying attention to being on the ground at all. For the most part they are just smiling at everything and enjoying the general feeling of solace in the cool morning. In the background of their brains there is a mattress, unevenly laid, cushioning every heavy thought with creaky springs.

Read the whole story so far: Carousel Cowboy

Characters and Places: Athens, Nick Vaughn, Travis Fleeting, Waffle House

The door to 3D bursts open as two gangly shadowed figures clamor in, pushing and shoving, each trying to get ahead of the other. The door slams shut behind them and a giggle sounds out, followed by a loud and rumbling crash accompanied by Nick yelling, “Ah! Fuck!” Travis laughs out loud in the dark and then glances back to the still closed front door. Fear comes back into his heart, and he begins groping around in the dark for Nick’s shoulders. “C’mon, man, get up!” Grabbing Nick by the collar of his jacket, he pulls and almost falls over himself.

Using Travis’s pants leg for a hoist, Nick drags himself off the carpet and pushes past Travis. “Get out of the way!” Travis yells when he thinks he hears a noise behind him and runs into the dark hallway to the bedrooms.

Read the whole story so far: Carousel Cowboy

Characters and Places: 3D, Athens, John Riffing, Nick Vaughn, Travis Fleeting

When Travis, Ian, and Nick walk into the 40 Watt, the place is dead. It resembles, at that point, a warehouse; concrete floor and a ceiling sixteen feet overhead, filled with steel rafters. To the right from the entrance there is a full bar stretching the length of the wall, while beyond them to the front lay the stage, three feet up off the ground. The other side of the club, to the left, is barely visible in the low light. In the very back corner, opposite the front entrance is a dark portal that leads back into a game room.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this place this empty,” Nick comments as the threesome stroll into the middle of the dance floor. There is an ether in the air like directions that don’t read right. A place hallowed for its entertainment and thrills should never look so dull and be so quiet.

“You guys feelin’ all right?” Ian asks.

Nick shrugs. “I think so. Do I not seem like it?”

“No, you seem fine.”

Travis interjects, “It takes twenty or thirty minutes. You’ll know.”

“I’m not gonna’ try to jump off a building or anything, am I?” Nick asks.

“It’s not acid, man. Trust me. It’s much more chill than that. You’ve done shrooms, right?”

“Yeah, once last summer.”

“It’s like shrooms except without the hallucinatory effects. It’s like you have a lot of energy and you’re positive, but there’s a physical manifestation of it—you feel a lot.” Nick just nods.

“You’ll see,” Travis repeats.

Read the whole story so far: Carousel Cowboy

Characters and Places: 40 Watt, Athens, ecstasy, Ian Fleming, John Riffing, Nick Vaughn, Travis Fleeting

“Hey,” Travis and Ian say, still sounding tired.

“Hey,” Nick says, pulling out a chair for himself.

“We just ordered,” Travis offers, “but she’ll be back in a sec’ with the coffee.”

“That’s cool,” Nick replies.

“How ya’ feelin’?”

Nick just shakes his head. “Uhhhh.”

“Yeah,” Ian agrees.

“You know that telegraph sound: deet-dee-dee-dee-deet? That’s all I can hear in my head when I’m not talking,” Travis says.

Ian laughs and Nick adds, “At least you got that much. I just got the network signoff tone: deeeeeeeeeeee.”

“Or the emergency broadcast system,” Ian says.

Laughing, Nick replies, “This is a test—a test of the emergency Nick system. Had this been an actual Nick, you would hear him speaking sensibly.”

Read the whole story so far: Carousel Cowboy, Unthreaded

Characters and Places: Ahtens, Ian Fleming, Nick Vaughn, Travis Fleeting

“So, we’ll meet back at our place?” Travis asks Ian outside of the Bluebird Café.

“Yeah. You get the goods and I’ll get the movie,” Ian replies, moving on down the sidewalk. Nick and Travis walk around the corner of Clayton and down North Thomas Street to one of the city parking lots on Washington. Entering the lot, they make their way over to a twenty-year-old, faded lime-green Ford Montego. With a loving pat on the roof, Nick gets in and leans over across the long, plush velvet front seat and unlocks the door for Travis. Even though he is six-foot-five, it is still a stretch for Nick to reach the passenger door, the cabin’s width being what it was.

Travis gets in as Nick starts the car. The engine comes to life and Nick pats the dashboard sweetly. “That’s it, baby,” he says as he revs the engine a couple of times.

Bouncing in his seat a little, Travis smiles at Nick. “I haven’t ridden in Her Majesty in a while,” he says as Nick pulls out of the parking spot and heads toward the nearest convenience store.

Read the whole story so far: Unthreaded

Characters and Places: cars, Nick Vaughn, The Montego, Travis Fleeting

The second time Travis wakes up, the light of the day has faded, along with much of his physical misery. Ian is standing over him smiling, the dervish nature returned from rest.

“Here,” he says, handing Travis a shot, as Travis sits up and re-ignites the pounding in his head, although it has been lessened substantially by four more hours of unconsciousness. Looking at the shot for a moment, Travis sniffs it, detecting a hint of something like peppermint schnapps or Jägermeister or both. Thinking about it for a moment, Travis rationalizes that the minty flavor will be something like brushing his teeth; and God knew whatever it tasted like, it was better than the current putrid occupant. He swings his head back and lets the thick sugary fluid wash down his throat, taking with it most of the dryness as the glands in his mouth attempt to put out the fire wrought by the shot.

Ian hands Travis a glass of water and two Aspirin. “Thanks, man,” Travis says before drinking the water.

Read the whole story so far: Unthreaded

Characters and Places: Athens, Ian Fleming, TKE House, Travis Fleeting