Spelk by A.F. Knott

Oh, come on, you know Spelk. The transmission guy. Looks like a carrot. Right. The skinny part of the carrot pointing down. So you know who I’m talking about. That’s why nobody took him seriously at first. Best mechanic in town though. That’s right, he’s Scottish. So what? This is what happened. Spelk is sitting […]

On the Hood by A. F. Knott

When I came around the corner, Salvatore had been leaning over the hood of Auntie Elena’s Pontiac, pounding Chewy. She painted her ride teak that year. Uncle Dom did it in his body shop, if I recall. There was blood spattering the teak and it looked good, I mean really good: Dark red over the […]