Momma was a Kangaroo. Daddy was a mouse. Momma had a pouch to store the time daddy gathered from running up clocks. They loved me dearly: called me pink little flesharoo with a whiskery voice, rubbed my skin with linseed oil so it kept its fresh rosy tint. We left our home in 1914 to […]
Tag Archives: Erik Fuhrer
Bullet Goose by Erik Fuhrer
There was a goose who lived in my grandmother’s attic. It had lived there since the first world war and had bullets in its flesh where feathers once grew. Its daily clickaclink rang in our ears each morning as it dragged its cyborg body across the unfinished floor. Every now and then it would bury […]