"My Dusty Abattoir"
I brought a dusty abattoir back from Mexico. I had difficulty at customs but in the end prevailed by convincing a bored-looking official that it was a family heirloom. When I got home I placed it in the kitchen, next to my father's dusty abattoir and my sister's dusty abattoir. My mother, alas, did not have a dusty abattoir, or any abattoir at all. My mother spent all day, every day, in the yard, among the gardenias. Once, long before, she had brought gardenia blossoms into the house, placing one inside my father's dusty abattoir and another in my sister's. The gardenias picked up the dust, became oblique, matte, rancid, almost furry, something else entirely. Not having an abattoir of my own at that time I was forced to ingest my gardenia, the way they do in Mexico, my mother told me. Not having yet been to Mexico I took her word for it.
I was gardening out back when the postman brought the letter informing me I'd been accepted into the Satellite Recovery Team. I hadn't recalled applying, but I was otherwise at loose ends and so reported to work in the hangar the following morning. There were seven of us, all new except for the crew leader. He was forty-ish, with a crewcut and badly hunched shoulders, as if he'd spent the years before this job working on an assembly line six inches too short for his reach. His name was Rick. "See," Rick told us, "there's millions of square miles of America out there, and every now and then a satellite falls back to Earth. Our job is to find them and, well, recover them."
To read the rest of "My Dusty Abattoir" and "Satellite Recovery" and to check out all the awesome fiction, poetry, and nonfiction, pick up a copy of vol. 4, no. 2 in our webstore. To get it for $5.95, choose, "sample copy, editor's choice" and enter "fall back sale" in the special instructions box.
G.C Waldrep will read today at 4:30pm in the Author's Corner on the 2nd floor of the Illini Union Bookstore. The event is free and open to the public. Hope to see you there!