HOOT Online, Issue 41, June 2015 – Micro Fiction, Poetry, Memoir, Book Reviews

by Kitt Keller
consultant art

When Buck got out of the Army, the first thing he did was get a job
well, the very first thing he did was get tattoo of the Batman symbol up on his left shoulder, but then he got a job: the only six-foot-five, linebacker-built Mary Kay rep in Tennessee. In the beginning, he told people it was the only job he could find, that nothing was hiring these days, but truth is, he sat in that Wednesday when Carrie Lynn stopped by, watched her open up that great big bag of makeup, listened as she sold his mother and his aunt new lipsticks and mascara, and thought to himself, I could do that. 





The Mat
by Melissa M. Parker 

made out of cigarette smoke

The only thing Leslie had growing up was a wrestling mat. As a baby she practiced by pinning the dog, but got too big for it fast. The dog was no good for practice anyway. It was a Labrador, dumb and stupid and would give you a smile for any kind of attention—if you tore off one of his own ears and threw it into the creek he’d fetch it right back to you, wagging its tail. It was nothing like Bonnie’s Terriers that had to be kept up in chains. Sometimes Bonnie would make bets with Pa over whether Leslie could pin one down before getting bit. For better or worse, Pa never hedged against his own. After wins they’d share the spoils: a can of sausages, cologne. The times the dogs drew blood, the man would give up his lottery tickets or the shirt off his back, and then he and Leslie would sit and share a cigarette (he’d only let his child use tobacco on a losing day). They’d sit in silence, as the dumb happy Labrador licked her wounds.



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