Bram Riddlebarger

Bram Riddlebarger writes, plays music, and lives in SE Ohio.

THREE SELECTIONS FROM MORE ANIMIST BABBLE (A WIP) by Bram Riddlebarger

The Hornworm and the Green Tomato   The hornworm had eaten the better part of the upper reaches of the tomato plant. The green tomato was petrified. It was already late in the season and now this. “YOU BETTER NOT EAT ME,” screamed the green tomato as the hornworm cast glances its way. “I’m so fucking horny,” said the hornworm. Its rear horn rigid. “I’ll BE RED IN A FEW DAYS,” negotiated/bargained/pleaded the green tomato with a faint blush. “You’ll be red-y now,” leered the worm. It ashed a cigarette as tobacco worms did. The cherry burned. The hornworm bit…

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MARBLES by Bram Riddlebarger

“Sit down and take a load off,” said Jack. “We’ve been working like the queen’s bees.” “Yeah,” said Tommy. He was tired. “Which one did you go out on today, Tommy? I thought I saw that #4 sagging a little.” Jack wasn’t joking. Tommy was real fat. He was tired, too. “No,” said Tommy. “I stayed on shore and flirted with that cute little Amy. The one with only one eye. Besides that, she’s real cute.” “Are you shitting me?” “Nope,” said Tommy. They drank warm beer out of brown bottles. Jack couldn’t believe this Tommy. “Hitting on the ladies,…

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SOY by Bram Riddlebarger

It was when he started drinking the milkshakes that the trouble began. Before two weeks had passed he had ballooned up fifty pounds and was beating the pulp out of every motherfucker that came within an inch of his mind’s eye. His power, he believed, came from his special method, patent pending, of milkshake making. It had to do with split-second timing between milk added and ice cream stirred, although quick wrist action was as necessary a factor as any. Of course, he didn’t use an electric blender. It was just pure spoon on glass like a junkie and his…

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