When I was a kid, I loved the X-Files. Taped it every Friday, bought the comic books, owned a t-shirt and hat and still have my The Truth is Out There coffee mug, which has been superglued back together at least once.
I didn’t just want to believe. I believed, baby.
Last week, a new online literary journal called Flyover Country published a little flash fiction piece of mine called X-Files on VHS.
Show went to shit when it switched to Sunday. That’s Skeeter’s position. Bald-ass albino freak, he’s big on episodes about the alligator man, the Jersey devil, that motherfucker who could stretch himself thin and sneak into cracks above doors to nibble on the livers of his victims. That spooky shit. Show lost its edge with all that conspiracy crap, he says. Tried getting too sexy.
I hope wherever you’re at you’re doing well and keeping warm.