Hate Inc. — Part III

[Neoplatonism & Ford-250s in our 3rd installment. Just new here? Catch up with part i & part ii]

*  *  *

Sarge picks me up in his F-250 from the bus stop I’m standing at after the session, “DUI,” I tell him as some sort of embarrassed explanation. “I didn’t even have that much to drink.” He shrugs and wonders why I didn’t Uber. I’ve had issues with Uber, frankly, and the attitude of some of their drivers. Continue reading

Hate Inc. — Part II

[Another Monday. Another fiction post. The next installment of Hate Inc. Part i here.]

*  *  *

“What do they mean we can’t say ‘N——’?”

Trew, one of my new classmates – no, ‘apprentice’. We’re learning a trade at The Cleft— was railing about the proscription against the use of the word, his favourite word, if you go by the number of times he drops it. That, and any variation of ‘fuck’. Fuck, fucking, fucker, fucked, we’re fucked. Continue reading