Spencer Moseley

I looked at my car. No, through my car. My car burglar had kept it classy (silver lining). Only small fragments of glass littered my backseat. When sunlight caught them just right, they did resemble those diamonds Snow White's dwarves worked so greedily to collect. Heigh-Ho. Heigh-ho. It's work from home I go. 😏 My buyer greeted me as I entered the backroom with a pleasure I didn't share. I had arrived early. Which meant she would expect me to help offload the truck. With a smile I hoped looked genuine, I performed at a level of insincerity that surprised even me: "It's great to see you; It's been too long; Good thing I'm here early to help." After that, I reflected that a simple "Hey, how's it going?" would have sufficed.  She talked in a frenzied flurry of ADHD. At one point, she even hit me with a "What the French Toast," which made me feel like I needed to brush spiders off my arms. I met her changing conversation topics wi...

Xuân Hưong might just be my new favorite soup spot. I ended up there like most sick people do, needing some hot, spicy soup to dissolve the phlegm. Okay that was gross.  I had two restaurant options. Lem's was right nextdoor and had higher reviews. But it had a chain feel. Bright neon lights out front. Special parking arrangements. And I began to sense that negative reviews for Xuân Hưong might be based on appearance. Xuân Hưong looked unassuming. One of the lights was knocked out. The building looked worn as if it was entirely made of drywall. But it looked homey. I trusted my gut and walked in. I waved at the waitress behind the counter and she grinned but looked down. Good. I like when they show respect but also have a bit of a "IDGAF" attitude. That's when you know the food will be good.  "I'd like to order to-go," I said.  "Menu?" she asked in broken English.  "Yes." I sat down with a spiral bound menu with four simple pages. App...

"I love. What I see. Of myself. In you." He stumbled through it just like that, sitting on the corner of his bed. Part of his plaid, very soft comforter was balled up in one hand.  She reached out and put her hand over his, which felt awfully mentorish. "I think you could do better than me though." He thought about saying, let me decide that . But it felt cliche and not unlike a therapist maxim. So he said nothing at all and watched as she slipped her bra on. He felt tears welling up and repressed the urge to run his index finger along her thigh vein. The one that popped well out of her pale skin.  He thought about trying to be grateful at least for the time they'd had together. The cliff jumping. The long walks in Galveston. That one time she'd popped a champagne bottle, scaring him, and how her drunk ass had offered sex to "make up for it".  But as he watched her putting her shoes on now he felt pissed. She'd wasted his time. But then he real...

          Three men bore gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to a stable beneath the Bethlehem sky. They knocked urgently. Mary, picture-perfect holding her baby, motioned to Joseph to let them in. The men smelled of camel’s hair, body odor and lentils. They wordlessly placed their gifts before the baby, murmuring words in their own tongue.  Mary thanked them with a smile, and they left in terror. Their gifts appeared like the gifts offered by the ancient Greeks to appease pagan gods. If these rich men were that scared, Joseph felt he should be too. “Let’s go,” he said to Mary. Her face said she needed more convincing. "I dreamed of this moment." She looked at him and, for once, complied. He strapped the saddle on the donkey as Mary nursed the boy. Joseph wanted to kill him, and he hated himself for feeling that way. He thought of Moses smacking bare rock with his magic staff in frustration. Relatable. He grunted at himself in disgus...

          Nicodemus snuck out of the portico of Solomon as twilight dimmed over the Galilean sea. He had a heavy foot and kept looking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t heard or followed. His every step sounded thunderous to him. He found Jesus in a garden, smiling. His gait was carefree, and Nicodemus wondered at him.  “Hello, Nicodemus,” said Jesus, plucking a snow white lily. He had not turned to see Nicodemus, so Nicodemus wondered how he knew he was there. “Hi, Jesus,” said Nicodemus. His own voice sounded stupid to him.  Jesus sat on a rock, overlooking Jerusalem, and the filthy city looked pretty in torch light. Nicodemus perched nearby, an awkward ten feet away. Nicodemus had a question prepared and on his lips. He worked up the courage and stuttered through it, “Rabbi, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” “One must be born again to enter my kingdom,” said Jesus, turning to what seemed an automated reply. Had he had th...

“Lazarus, come out,” said Jesus, extending his arms toward the open tomb. The crowd, smelling of shit, stood there, waiting.  Lazarus emerged, covered in burial cloths blackened with blood and streaks of pus. The crowd gasped in amazement and started to dance. Songs rang out with shouts of, “Messiah, messiah.” “Why?” Lazarus wheezed, his voice barely audible through the burial cloths. “Lazarus,” said Jesus.  Something was wrong. Lazarus looked haggard.  “Fuck,” Lazarus screamed as he ripped off some of the cloth from his arm. Blood fell like rain as a scab reopened. Jesus remained calm but alert. The crowd behind them began to disappear as they went into Bethany to spread the news of Jesus’ miracle. “I’m sorry for your pain,” said Jesus. “You’re sorry?” Lazarus asked.  “Yes,” said Jesus. Lazarus let out a psychotic laugh.  “Why did you bring me back?” he asked.  Jesus paused and looked at him, “My father requested it.” “I was with Abraham in a place with no...

Well how long will you fuck her? said Jeff.  As long as she'll let me, I guess, I said. I almost said I suppose but knew I'd only be saying that to sound more sophisticated. More in control. I took another sip of Bulleit.  So that's that huh. I detected a hint of judgment and an unspoken request for a redeeming reason. I could've said that we did have chemistry or  who knows where this might go . But that didn't feel honest. Really. So instead I stood up to get the bottle for a refill. He tapped his cigar butt while looking down. Jeff was sophisticated. At least he liked to think so. He did use beard oil. I purposely poured his whiskey too quickly and enjoyed his panicked DUDE.  Truthfully I felt a little bad fucking someone just because they allowed it. She was a placeholder for someone I actually wanted. And fucking her anyway felt. Wrong. But I had made myself clear. I see us just as friends, I'd said. And she'd still agreed to keep fucking me. So maybe w...