dan {at} dan-medeiros {dot} com

Posts from the “Fiction” Category

Passacaglia in Blue

Posted on January 19, 2013

This story was written and published many years ago in a literary magazine of no consequence. It’s long since gone out of whatever limited print it was in. I feel pretty confident in saying the only copies that have survived are sitting on a shelf in my house. Maybe one or two other people’s houses.  Effectively, this thing no longer existed. So I thought I’d revive it here.   They call Quinn “The IED.”  Quinn oils his 9mm Glock and polishes each bullet like a mirror, gazing up dreamily at Pop’s picture on the wall.  Only three weeks on the force and he already got a nickname—“because you never know when he’s going to go off on somebody,” they say.  In the picture, Pop…

The One About the Traveling Salesman

Posted on May 14, 2011

A traveling salesman is driving through the country one night on his way to Omaha when his car breaks down. He walks to a farmhouse and asks the farmer if he can spend the night there. Farmer says, “You can spend the night in the barn, but you better not be sleeping with my beautiful daughter. Six feet tall. Blonde hair. Tits out to here. But nobody can ever touch her!” Waggling a finger for emphasis. The traveling salesman is intrigued and vows to himself that he must, at least, meet this girl. At night, the traveling salesman sneaks out of the barn past the mutter of sleeping livestock, his stocking feet soaking up dew as he slips toward the house silent as the…

Steve

Posted on November 1, 2010

It was June and I was still residing on Steve’s couch. I was paying him rent for it, approximately. I was self-employed and ran a small sticker-design business from the right end of the couch and the end-table adjacent where I kept my markers, but since I’d run out of sticker-backed-paper in November and Staples wasn’t carrying it anymore, I’d suspended operations indefinitely. Steve was a bagger at Star Market, thinking about going back for his Ph.D., and had figured out how to steal cable from the landlord, so there was always something to talk about between the crazy customers and what was on TV. Sometimes we talked philosophy. We didn’t have girlfriends anymore. Things were great. We sat in silence for a while,…