Scallops by Isaac Steinzor
TEAR of SWEAT WORKED its way down the Highway Patrolman's forehead, across the doughy mounds of flesh that hugged his eyesockets and along his cheek, until it beaded on the corner of his upper lip, where he licked it off. He looked like he was made of rubberized foam, or, if you were hungry, funnelcake. ...click here to READ MORE