Category Archives: Slash

Thursday, March 2, 2017 The goalie was a prick. Gorgeous, but still a prick. Okay. Maybe Dave Starsky was being a bit harsh. He’d met Kenny What’s-His-Name only a few hours ago, along with the rest of the team. But … Continue reading →

Hutch and Starsky were on Hutch’s couch. They had just finished watching a horror movie. A very badly made horror movie. So bad, they had laughed their way through most of it. And drank enough beer to get through it … Continue reading →

“If this was a cowboy movie, I’d give ya my boots.” Oh, that’s brilliant, Starsky! We’re fuckin’ dyin’ here and the best you can do is a stupid reference to childhood escapism? Tell him, for Chris’ sake! Sure, the squad … Continue reading →

Hutch was sitting in the greenhouse, sipping juice, and reading the morning paper. It was early. He planned on sleeping in today, but sleep did not come easy. The thoughts over the past few weeks kept him up, thoughts that … Continue reading →

So much for that musical weekend in the woods. Hutch rested his arms on the Formica tabletop and stared at his black coffee. The afternoon sun lit its oily surface. It was that sort of place––a little cigarette ash on … Continue reading →