Robert Roman
My Own Private Ulysses: In Cow Parlour off Cork Street
Today’s boots-on-the-ground Bloomsday Ezraku:
In Cow Parlour off Cork Street
The blessed fruit of Circe’s avant-garde womb:
The world’s greatest reform, Boulevard Bloom.
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Robert
Roman
Empire
RED BRICK ALLEY STORIES
The Killards Are Coming
Every damn day in Religion Class, Sister Anna Banana yapped about the Soviets revving up to start a nuclear war with the new president, Ronald Reagan. She said after the cities burned to Holy Hell, there’d be something called “nuclear winter” that would kill all...
Double-Strength Demon Dogs
Fantastic Freddie was the only altar boy from the Red Brick Alley. He was always consecrating Ritz Crackers and trying to make us eat them like communion wafers. He light-fingered incense from the sacristy, and he blessed water from Old Lady Tully’s spigot...
Laser Loop
I couldn’t see over the tall green school bus seat except when we hit a pothole and I bounced up in the air like a Pop-Tart jumping out of a toaster. Nobody at Saint Augie’s could believe I was allowed to go. My first school picnic ever. I was good from the day I handed in my pink...
The Boy Wonder
How the Hell did Jaggerbush get himself up there? He was clawing his way up into the open window above the Science class door like a real-life gargoyle. The blockhead of a wooden mallet stuck out of the back of his Toughskins where his butt crack was. He wore three...
About The Author
Robert Roman grew up in Pittsburgh, PA, where he sold newspapers to cars from a concrete island. Read more→
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