Last night I read a few stories at a delightful show called BIG NIGHT OF AWESOME. Lately, I’ve been really appreciative of epilogues, which seem to sort out all the tangles and loose ends so quickly. Therefore, I’ve placed a lot of emphasis on writing epilogues lately.

More emphasis, I dare say, than on the stories themselves. I hope you’ll appreciate these stories and epilogues.

Jarrod’s mail

In a cocoon of silence, he drew a pair of scissors from his new desk to open the letter Sara had sent him over two months ago.

Epilogue.

The letter was of no significance; it had been a silly note she sent with a picture of a piece of toast she had made with a novelty press that imprinted the face of Jim Jarmusch on any regular slice of bread. Sara had moved on quickly and Jarrod had fooled himself into carrying around what amounted to little more than an empty envelope for eight torturous months. He kept the photo over his desk as a reminder that sometimes problems are problems and sometimes problems are just toast that looks like a hip-ass director.

The whole time, back in Missouri, Sara knew that it was actually a Bob Dylan toast.

So it turns out Jarrod still didn’t know anything and, for thinking that a crusty outline of Dylan was a crusty outline of Jarmusch, was even more pretentious than Sara.

Jim and juice

Without the underground stash of “Inspector Gadget” collectibles, the avocado farm quickly lost its magic. Read the rest of this entry »