Best Of: "Hot Ice And Cold Blood"

A couple of projects loom over the horizon and I have more plugs to give out than a dozen Hair Club For Men franchises put together. In the meantime, the following story should tie you over. "Hot Ice And Cold Blood" appeared at the original Powder Flash Burn blog. A lot of us owe our writing and our readership to Aldo Calcagno, so I ask that you visit the Original PFB, the New PFB and Darkest Before The Dawn.

Right after you do that, pop back over here and click the paragraph below to read some more Neo-Noir-

"Who was that idiot who said “the meek shall inherit the Earth?” And really, who would want the moldy crumbs that would be left over, after everyone else had taken their fill?"

Image from http://www.artquotes.net/masters/hirst/diamond-skull.jpg

Best Of: "B*tch"

Some of you have read or even heard this story, and some of you haven't. The title is "Bitch" and I guarantee that whatever your initial impression is of the title or the story, you are completely incorrect. In a reversal, I'm going to do this differently. I won't repost the story in its entirety on this blog, and I'm going to list the audio version first. It's on Seth Harwood's Crimewav podcast, and it was produced by the great Aldo Calcagno.

We're talking Episode #26: First comes "Beer" by David Price and then "Requiem of Wind And Rain" by James C. Clar. My story kicks in right around 25:11.

Or if your computer/Internet device can't play podcasts, you can read the original version at Powder Burn Flash.

Get Plugged In #5

John Donald Carlucci has the third episode of Fierce Cravings up on YouTube!

Katherine Tomlinson makes her Powder Burn Flash debut, with "Dangerous Chartreuse."

Last, but not least, Chad Rohrbacher comes to A Twist of Noir.

Best Of: "Peanut Oil"

"Peanut Oil" originally appeared on Powder Burn Flash.

It’s hot. Almost “ Death Valley kills the pioneers” hot. Which is no easy feat, considering that this is October in usually foggy San Francisco. But the Northern Californian version of Chandler ’s Santa Ana winds, the "Diablo," is seeing to that, making everything as arid as the Sahara.

Kelly Boles has it in his head to take a week off…unpaid. Fuck the mounting pile of bills on the stand by the door; he feels a novel running through his head like a dam about to burst. Kelly though he would he would try “kickwriting” like Kerouac did with “On The Road,” minus the rolls of tracing paper taped together and the Benzedrine.

Nothing doing.

He over-caffeinated himself and as a result, every single thing is a distraction: the wailing cries of his computer’s overworked fan, his dying piece-of-shit refrigerator, his growling stomach, and the ambient noise of his neighbors that is bouncing off the heat and into his open windows.

The couple next door is particularly vexing, as they argue about how to prepare a dish.

“It’s not Szechwan beef if you cook it vegetable oil! You have to use peanut oil!”

“Then why don’t you go buy some fucking peanut oil, already?”

“I will!...uh, can you lend me some money?”

Kelly cannot believe that she tolerates this tool. She’s beautiful and she can cook? That idiot should be kissing the very ground that she walks on. Women like that might become extinct within his lifetime.

Kelly’s stomach is grumbling, so he drinks a glass of water to shut it up. He looks across the street and sees “Szechwan Beef” dash into the corner store. Kelly thinks about the wonderful aromas from next door that are to come and his stomach grumbles again. He gulps down another glass of water.

As he puts the glass in the sink, he notices a balding man in a trench coat dashing into the store. Who the hell wears a trench coat in this kind of weather? A flasher? The guy has to be a flasher, because porn theaters don’t exist anymore.

“Open the register now!”

“Jesus, that guy had a shotgun under that trench coat,” whispers Kelly. The store’s owner reaches under the counter and oh shit, watch out Szechwan Beef! He didn’t see or hear “Trench Coat” and he panics, dropping the bottle of peanut oil and startling everyone.

The store’s owner brings his pistol up and “Trench Coat” pulls the trigger. Good God, the roar is deafening as the heat ricochets the sound all over the neighborhood. The store’s windows are peppered with blood, gore and holes. The store’s owner is nowhere to be seen. Trench Coat turns toward Szechwan Beef, but he already fled during the first shot.

Trench Coat pumps a shell into the chamber and takes a step. He slips, he disappears, a foot comes up, and there’s a muffled boom.

Kelly looks left and right, but there seems to be nobody in the store. He gets his phone and dials 911. He grabs a chair and stands up. Kelly can barely see Trench Coat’s feet twitching in the window and he sees what he guesses are teeth or bits of bone, right by the front door. It’s hard to tell from this distance.

The panicking footsteps of Szechwan Beef echo outside in the hallway. As the 911 operator puts him on hold before he can say anything, Kelly shakes his head. Not because of the operator, but because this would’ve made a great story. Unfortunately, Kelly feels that just like stickups, crime fiction doesn’t pay enough.

Note: I added a line to this version, because it's not entirely clear what happened to Kelly's obnoxious neighbor.

Get Plugged In #1

Walter Conley put together a beautiful online magazine called "Disenthralled," and it also happens to feature a story from my favorite unpublished author Quin Browne.

Pamila Payne brings nuance to crime writing, that's right, nuance. I'm not saying that other crime writers tell a story without it (big glass house, right here), I'm just saying she understands it perfectly...right before she hits you with the denouement.

Speaking of hitting you,Paulie Decibels sucks you in and then hits you with a sucker punch.

Keith Rawson finishes things up with whipped cream and a cherry, via an interview with Reed Farrel Coleman and Ken Bruen.

My Story "The Trees" Is Up At Powder Burn Flash

Do you ever check the trees to see what is up there?

You would be surprised at what you can find.



Over at Powder Burn Flash.com, Aldo Calcagno has posted a story of mine concerning the once in a lifetime things that a teenager has discovered in "The Trees."

Best Of: "Swerved"

With "Swerved," the chase is a foot and as usual, all is not what it seems. Will the predator corner his prey? "Swerved" originally appeared on Powderburnflash.com.


My victims have been plentiful throughout the years, and I must say that I have an aptitude forthis sort of thing. I don't get to choose them at all, yet that is what makes hunting them such fun.

Some of them get radar.

They panic.

Their eyes go wide with fear as I reach into my jacket pocket.

Even in places crowded with people, they see me before I can separate them out.

Even with those dark sunglasses on, I could see the whites of his eyes.

Even as big as he was, he broke off from the pack like a frightened gazelle.

He was not graceful. He was not lithe by any stretch of the imagination. Yet like a sumo wrestler or a defensive tackle, he had that good initial burst of speed.

The chase was afoot.

With some of the victims, you want this…this sheer, unadulterated panic. The thing was not to be a like a lion, but like a hyena.

The lion is not built for long-distance pursuit, but for the quick kill and he will usually not go after his prey beyond the initial five hundred yards. The hyena will follow his prey…and follow…and follow. When you are a hyena, you simply and relentless pursue. You let the prey panic and that panic will help wear them down and disorient them.

His once sure feet now became uncertain…then they started stumbling. His tongue was lolling out just like prey when the predator sinks his jaws into the throat. Schadenfreude may not be good for the soul, but the brain enjoys it entirely too much.

I was within feet of him and just when I reached into my jacket, he stumbled into the street. A minivan skidded just inches short of him and a woman got out of it. She was beautiful, this angel, this would-be savior.

I kept a certain distance and with a quick certainty, she glared at me.

"Are you okay?" she asked him, and he responded simply with a wheezing gasp.

"Hold on" she said as she got her cell phone out and dialed. Some of his breath came back to him when he saw me at bay.

"Hello, 911 Operator? Yes, hello? I'm here with a man and it seems that he is being chased. We need the police and I think we might need an ambulance." This angel looked down and asked my prey, "What is your name sir?"

"Jerry" he huffed, "Jerry…Benson."

I quickly closed in and reached into my jacket for the last time that day, to deal the fatal blow.

"Gerald Benson, you have been served!" I threw the subpoena at his heaving chest and pointed at the woman "and witnessed!"

The look of shock on his face? Literally priceless. You can't buy that or have somebody recreate it. I got into the driver's side and the woman got into the passenger's side. I drove around the heaving and bewildered Jerry Benson.

I asked the woman sitting beside me "did you get the picture, Sis?"

"No I didn't take a picture this time, Carl. You're sick, do you know that?"

"But that reaction? Oh, that would've the best one for my trophy room yet."

"Carl, you are sick and you need help," she said as we drove off into the Sunset…District, that is.

Best Of: "L-I-N-G-O"

I don't know if I could really consider this story to be one of my better works, but it certainly has three of my favorite lines, and I will be using them again somewhere down the line. See if you can guess which bits of dialogue are my faves from this story.

"L-I-N-G-O" originally appeared on Powderburnflash.com-


4:50 PM on a cold, secluded, rain-soaked road just outside of Sacramento. Barry and Cap sit in a car, and even though Barry has felt Cap up for the second time in the last fifteen minutes, this isn't a date. Barry has been checking Cap for weapons both times once before he got in the car and now, just seconds ago. All Barry has found on Cap is a cell phone which he confiscated, and a pager, which he let him keep.

There are hurt feelings and silence just like a date gone wrong, but they both know that all this tension has to do with the fact that one of them isn't going to get out of the car alive.

"Let's Rorschach this situation, Barry."

"What's that, Cap?"

"You know…a Rorschach test?" Cap says as he pulls out his pager and glances at it.

"Because all I see are a bunch of ink blots and you? Obviously you see something else altogether."

"What are you goin' on about?"

"I'm "goin' on about" why you have me out here in the middle of nowhere, while I haven't done anything wrong."

"Define 'wrong,' Cap."

"While you have had your head in anything but the game, I've been the one that has been making sure that the business is run right."

Barry watches Cap gesture with the pager and he retorts through clenched teeth, "Is that so?"

"Yeah, that's so, and you need to realize that before you give me the waterboard and the full Gitmo experience. The sales are steady when I'm in charge, the product moves when I'm in charge, and the count is never short when I'm in charge. Now, can you say the same when Antoine fills in?"

"Are you claiming to be an honest man, Cap?"

"The facts speak for themselves, man."

"Well, Cap, in my experience? An honest man is like somebody who is Chinese having the name Mookie or Ray-Ray. They might exist, but I've never seen one."

"Have I ever cheated you?"

"Out of money or product? Maybe a dollar here or some rock there, but it ain't nothing that I've noticed." Barry grins and pulls out a Glock .40. "Now, other things?"

Cap looks at the leer in Barry's eyes and snaps, "hell to the no, you got this more twisted than an accident at a pretzel factory!"

"No, bro, I'm straight on this. You're the one that's always talkin' about how much you hate Ashley and she's always talkin' about how much she hates you. Both y'all ain't foolin' me on this; I got you two locked in."

"As long as you've known me," says Cap as he grimaces and points his pager at Barry, "have I ever been about anything but the money? Answer me truthfully; have I ever been about anything but the money?"

"No, but people change."

"And who has changed around here, man? I've been running this business, the same as always. You got yourself your little tail from the suburbs and I didn't trip. You spent more and more time with her, while I made sure that everything was all quo. If this was a legit biz, I woulda fired your absentee-ass first thing. But you never saw me drive you out into the middle of nowhere and try to put some trumped-up bullshit on you, like a corrupt cop paying out triple alimony!"

Barry mulls it over it over and his face strains like preschooler trying to figure out the Federal budget.

Barry chambers a round and says, "You're just trying to throw me off."

"Ain't nobody throwing you off but you. You're the one with your head out the game, playing "Ghetto Ken and Suburban Barbie." Me? I'm so far into the game, that I am quarterback, head coach, general manager, owner, and league commissioner, all rolled up into one. I'm the one that makes sure that you have money. So that you can have this nice car and so that she can spend it just as fast as it comes in. That's who I am."

Barry contemplates again with that strained look on his face, then he nods to the pager that Cap keeps pointing at him.

"What the hell is that, a wire?"

"No, Barry, it's a twenty-five caliber."

The pager lets out a loud snap and the back of Barry's head hits the driver's side window, cracking it. The strained look on Barry's face is now permanent. Cap gets out of the passenger side and opens the driver's door. The upper half of Barry's body falls into the mud and gravel. Cap pulls the rest of him out of the car and drags him off the road, and into a copse of trees.

"What's that dumb-ass saying, Barry? Oh, yeah, "bros before hos." Well bro, you should've kept your head in the game, because it's "dough before bros and hos" with me."

"So Deaf" Is On Powder Burn Flash

My story "So Deaf" was just posted on Powder Burn Flash.com this morning and this story is bitter sweet for me. The stalwart station of San Francisco Bay Area jazz, KKSF has shut down the terrestrial station and now its presence will be strictly online. Though I haven't listened to the station as much as a I used to, it was still my main non-classical music refuge when I was driving.

Until last year, they had the "Jazz Cafe" on Sunday nights, which was a link to KJAZ in both spirit and in the audio flesh, with a former KJAZ dj running the show. Corporate radio is going to force me by default to switch to Sirius/XM, bastards.

Anyway, the tie-in to my story is that the protagonist is on his way to a jazz club in The Fillmore district here in San Francisco, when he gets a call for assistance. You see, Sgt. Hewitt works with the Gang Suppression Unit and there has just been a shooting not too far from his destination. This my first police procedural, so please, take a look at "So Deaf."

Be assured that like me, my character Sgt. Hewitt had KKSF on his radio before he got the call.

Best Of: "Cynara"

Soon, the sixth issue of Astonishing Adventures Magazine and...well, you're just going to have to wait until it arrives.

In the meantime, when Aldo, Gerald and Patti get together? They always come up with a great premise and more often than not, even better flash fiction ensues. One day, they'll give Akashic Noir a run for the money and you will recall that you read that here first.

This story is called "Cynara" and you'll have to read it, to understand the origin of the flash fiction challenge, and just who "Cynara" really is. In this story, for a change of pace, you will have the actual and correct William Congreve quote-

Heav'n has no rage like love to hatred turn'd
Nor Hell a fury, like a woman scorn'd.

I would bring up a famous Chris Rock quote, but nothing is worse than having the audience fail to make the distinction between the author and the fictional characters that he writes about. So just let me say this of this story's protagonist, you can't spell "lothario" without "l-o-a-t-h." But every story needs a villain and true to noir tradition, trust no one in this story except to do what is best for themselves.

Ladies and Gentlemen, here is "Cynara."

Read On, Read On

I'm going on a quick blogging vacation at least until Wednesday, but that doesn't mean that there isn't abundant content to be read.


Keith Rawson won the First A Twist of Noir's Story Contest with "In The Shower, Thinking."

Eric Beetner was in second place with the neo-noir "Past Due."

Kevin Michaels points out why it's not a good idea to flash your cash in "Hard Streak."

Paulie Decibels writes about the horror, the horror, at Thrillers Killers 'n' Chillers, with "This Old House." Think more Halloween British style, than Bob Villa.

Last but not least, mi amica, Pyzhan tries to get me and everyone else hip to other hardboiled MacDonald, John. D. If you only saw how big my TBR pile was, Pyzahn, you'd cry like a baby.

Best Of: "Same Circus, Different Town"

Well, spring is finally here and as I promised, "Best Of" has returned. Today's selection was from the good old Tribe days. Tribe is an author out of Ohio and he used to have crime flash fiction site that was the precursor to Powder Burn Flash.

It was just like Powder Burn in that you had fine crime fiction and undiscovered writers, and we are very fortunate that Aldo Calcagno decided to pick upcarry that torch and carry it onward. Still, I'd like to thank Tribe for providing the first true venue where every writer was on equal footing and he or she could stand on their own merit.

The odd thing about this story's title was I asked a German native/American citizen coworker how he was doing and instead of the standard, "another day, another sixty-two cents after taxes," or "same sh*t, different day" that had become standard at my job, he responded with the phrase that would become this story's title. As a matter of fact, I had to disguise the lightbulb that went off over my head, because I knew right then and there that I had to build a story around this right away. When lunch came around, I jotted some notes on a paper towel.

In wake of the current financial scandals, "Same Circus" has taken on a different light and some of the narrator's words ring truer than ever. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you "Same Circus, Different Town."

Around The Web

If there's one expression that makes me wince, whether I hear it in the movies or on TV, or whether I see it in print? "The word on the street."

Now, I've heard people say "I've heard that," or "I heard around the way," or "people have been telling me," but I've never, I repeat never, heard anyone in real life say, "the word on the street is." Well, Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein found out just what the word on the street actually was.

Hey, Christoper Grant not only runs a wonderful crime fiction site, he can pen a good word or two.

Why ask Abby? Don't ask Alice, either, because the Door Mouse was full of it anyway and the stuff they have to feed your head nowadays? You will wind up making Gary Busey look coherent in comparison. Ask Sinjin instead, for a refreshing answer to your most vexing problems.

There are rumors that I haven't had time to personally verify, but I understand that Katie Schwartz is back and if you know my blogs, I loves me some Katie. She's my best, best online friend ever.

Last, but certainly not least is The Missus, who has her own jewelry blog. Go ahead, take a peek.

"B*tch" Is Up At Crimewav!

Aldo was nice enough to have chosen, recorded and posted my story "Bitch" from Powder Burh Flash, up at Crimewav. What does it sound like? I have no idea, I'm stuck with a pterodactyl in a box, or "dial-up" to those of you who have never seen an episode of "The Flintstones."

Please, up on over, click, listen, and then pretend that I am deaf...by giving me a report. Ya hear?

P.S. Princess Ladybug says, "in the upper right hand corner is a box that says "CrimePlayer - Click to Open." When you click on it a pop-up window comes up. Click on episode 26."

"Peanut Oil"

"Peanut Oil" originally appeared in the original Powder Burn Flash, this version has revised in error in the ninth paragraph and this was nobody's fault but mine, Robert Plant.


It’s hot. Almost “ Death Valley kills the pioneers” hot. Which is no easy feat, considering that this is October in usually foggy San Francisco. But the Northern Californian version of Chandler ’s Santa Ana winds, the Diablo, is seeing to that, making everything as arid as the Sahara.

Kelly Boles has it in his head to take a week off…unpaid. Fuck the mounting pile of bills on the stand by the door; he feels a novel running through his head like a dam about to burst. Kelly though he would he would try “kickwriting” like Kerouac did with “On The Road,” minus the rolls of tracing paper taped together and the Benzedrine.

Nothing doing.

He over-caffeinated himself and as a result, every single thing is a distraction: the wailing cries of his computer’s overworked fan, his dying piece-of-shit refrigerator, his growling stomach, and the ambient noise of his neighbors that is bouncing off the heat and into his open windows.

The couple next door is particularly vexing, as they argue about how to prepare a dish.

“It’s not Szechwan beef if you cook it vegetable oil! You have to use peanut oil!”

“Then why don’t you go buy some fucking peanut oil, already?”

“I will!...uh, can you lend me some money?”

The neighbor's girlfriend cannot believe that she tolerates this tool. She’s beautiful and she can cook? That idiot should be kissing the very ground that she walks on. Women like that might become extinct within his lifetime.

Kelly’s stomach is grumbling, so he drinks a glass of water to shut it up. He looks across the street and sees “Szechwan Beef” dash into the corner store. Kelly thinks about the wonderful aromas from next door that are to come and his stomach grumbles again. He gulps down another glass of water.

As he puts the glass in the sink, he notices a balding man in a trench coat dashing into the store. Who the hell wears a trench coat in this kind of weather? A flasher? The guy has to be a flasher, because porn theaters don’t exist anymore.

“Open the register now!”

“Jesus, that guy had a shotgun under that trench coat” whispers Kelly. The store’s owner reaches under the counter and oh shit, watch out Szechwan Beef! He didn’t see or hear “Trench Coat” and he panics, dropping the bottle of peanut oil and startling everyone.

The store’s owner brings his pistol up and “Trench Coat” pulls the trigger. Good God, the roar is deafening as the heat ricochets the sound all over the neighborhood. The store’s windows are peppered with blood, gore and holes. The store’s owner is nowhere to be seen. Trench Coat turns toward Szechwan Beef, but he already fled during the first shot.

Trench Coat pumps a shell into the chamber and takes a step. He slips, he disappears, a foot comes up, and there’s a muffled boom.

Kelly looks left and right, but there seems to be nobody in the store. He gets his phone and dials 911. He grabs a chair and stands up. Kelly can barely see Trench Coat’s feet twitching in the window and he sees what he guesses are teeth or bits of bone, right by the front door. It’s hard to tell from this distance.

As the 911 operator puts him on hold before he can say anything, Kelly shakes his head. Not because of the operator, but because this would’ve made a great story. Unfortunately, Kelly feels that just like stickups, crime fiction doesn’t pay enough.

"Vibrant"

How do you feel today?

Are you feeling a little down?

Do you feel lethargic?

Do you feel detached?

Do you need a little "pick me up?"

The protagonist in my story at Powder Burn Flash feels "Vibrant."



You should try "Vibrant," too!

Paulie Decibels Has A Story Up At Powder Burn Flash

Paulie Decibels has an excellent story up at Powder Burn Flash about "Sleeping It Off." Na zdrowie and cheers, Paulie!

Paulie Decibels Debut on Powder Burn Flash.Com

My mate, Paulie Decibels has debuted on Powder Burn Flash with a little ditty about being "In The Dog House."

Top ho, Paulie, good stuff!

"B*tch" Is Up At Powder Burn Flash And It Already Has A Four Star Review!

First, my story "Bitch," is up at Powder Burn Flash.com.

Second, you have to don't listen to me about compliments concerning my own material, as I am not the partial bastard. Listen to Geoff Eighinger of Eastern Standard Crime-

Cormac Brown has the keen ability to put me in a literary trance, focusing on the story at hand before literally twisting me into oblivion at the end. This story was no different, narrated by a police officer named Heidi.

"In most situations, they send me in first and quite frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way. They all just slow me down, anyway, so that's probably why they give me such a wide berth when the shit hits the fan."

Heidi is a conceited one, boasting about her ability to outshine her male counterparts in every way. After describing her recent capture of an armed robbery suspect, we find something out about Heidi that I should have suspected as a reader but never even considered.Bless you, Mr. Brown. Keep up the hilarious fiction sundaes with big cherry surprises on top.


He gave it four hats Ladies and Gentlemen. Here's the review, and more importantly, here's the story.

"L-I-N-G-O" Is Up At Powder Burn Flash

Brush up on your "lingo" with the eponymous story now on Powder Burn Flash.