Gary writes “Grit Fiction,” because life isn’t always smooth. His stories are characterized by wit, wordplay, and plot twists that will leave the reader guessing.

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Alternate Weinerverse

ALTERNATE WEINERVERSE  It was all one big stunt. Call it giving the people what they want. They came to see a competitive eating match and got a lot more than that.   The Goodrich blimp was buzzing overhead. Panic! At the Schnitzel was cranking out pop-punk styled patriotic tunes. The usual protestors were there, making loud…

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Eddie and Ellie: A Love Story

EDDIE AND ELLIE: A LOVE STORY   It’s been more than thirty years now, and I still remember vividly the exact moment that my crush got crushed. I was pressed into the passenger seat of Eddie’s customized Chevy S10 pickup truck. It was early morning. Extra early. We were headed full throttle to Gold’s Gym.…

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Monday the 13th

  MONDAY THE THIRTEENTH – It hates you, too. “Do I have to?” Tommy stood at the employee entrance, rubbing his head. Monday had just begun, and it couldn’t end soon enough. He had overslept. His shoelace broke. He arrived late, and with a hangover from Hennessy.   Thankfully, his job at the undersized overstock…

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How to Get Away With Nothin’

  HOW TO GET AWAY WITH NOTHIN’ You think you know my story, but you have no idea. It might have a cast of characters like you’ve seen before, and the plot might seem predictable but I am here to tell you it’s still worth a look for real. I got a lot of run-on…

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No Tell

NO TELL  They’re calling me William Tell, which just goes to show how few people know that story.  My story has an apple in it, but beyond that it’s more than a stretch. People are also calling me a hero, an assassin, a saint, a saboteur, a terrorist, even a Floridian. The last one’s a…

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A Month and a Half of Sundays

A MONTH AND A HALF OF SUNDAYS Is reliving really living? Emil Schubert was ninety-six years old, but nine hundred and sixty-nine years tired. It was late. Bedtime. 8:15 p.m. It felt so much later. Maria was certainly already sleeping. He would need to be quiet. He could feel his fuzzy slippers on his feet.…

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The Plummeting Man

THE PLUMMETING MAN   It was all about the sun. After all, the whole world revolved around it. How long had Earth’s inhabitants laughed off the warnings about greenhouse gases? Blissfully went about their lives ignoring the ozone layer and the man-made hole in it? Their neglect would be the death of him today, and…

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Miracle on Elm Street

Danny Fleetwood Grade 6, Franklin Middle School Period 2 Mrs. Shaye Literature and Composition, Period 2 Miracle On Elm Street I know the assignment is supposed to be an essay about myself, and my life so far. And a lot of this is about Jacob. But my story is as much about him as it…

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Red

Red washes over my head. Like blood that is so much thicker than this water. The color of grief. Not Rage Red. Not Squeeze Your Eyes Shut Tight Red. Red like a debt I owe. I can never repay it, this I know. Red like a neon sign that will forever flash “VACANCY.” Red like…

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KICK

KICK She had an extraordinary kick, did this lady. Not a kick like a mule, although she could be stubborn, in the right way. No, she had the kick of an elite athlete, a long-distance runner. That unique ability to break into a sprint at the end of an endurance-oriented race. I could mention at…

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