Savage Tales

were over.
    "Hi, I'm calling about a job as a model... What? My age? Well, people tell me I look like I'm still a teenager, but... Hello? Hello?... Asshole."
    She scoured ads in the paper and online for anything in her line. She made calls, tried to use her contacts, but discovered that people she thought were her friends were no longer speaking to her. Her friend Archie, a cameraman, agreed to meet with her.
    "You look horrible," he said.
    "Thanks. I haven't been sleeping. My bills are piling."
    "That's the real world. You'll pull through. Someone will want to hire a chick like you. Retail needs that kind of eye candy."
    "I can do better than that."
    "You may have to start low. That's how it works in the real world."
    "But I have experience! I've been working for ten years!"
    "In a different industry. Say, if you're hard up for cash maybe I can help you out."
    "You'd do that?"
    "Consider it a loaner. The question is, what do I get in return?"
    "Oh Christ, you too, Archie? Isn't there one good man left in the world?"
    "No."
    Out of desperation, a few days later she went to a bar where a man bought her a drink and she downed it thoughtlessly and soon began to reel intensely. Before she knew it, she was in a cab going somewhere with the man and the motion kept going on and on.
    "Where we?" she said.
    He ignored her and paid the driver when they reached his apartment. He dragged her up the stairs and the next morning she woke up in a dumpster and started crying.
    A homeless man heard her and came to listen next to the dumpster. When Marsha finally popped her head out it was his face that she saw. She flinched away from him in horror.
    When she came out of the dumpster he was still there, but she had suffered so much that she thought she couldn't suffer anymore.
    "Who are you?" said the grizzly old man, something like Santa Claus.
    She ignored him and fell to the ground, had a creepy sense of déjà vu.
    "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille," said Marsha, uncurtaining her pants.
    The old man saw her waiting vagina, and never one to pass up a golden opportunity, unsheathed his member likewise. He inserted himself into her and got to work.
    A child passing the alley stopped to look, then moved on.
    When he had finished, the old man swabbed his flaccid penis across Marsha's face, dripping her with paste.

SAND DRIFT

    We were attacked by a midnight raid of nomads. The war was unofficially over and any conflict was unnecessary and would lead to nothing, but you couldn't tell them that. I didn't try to rationalize these attacks on our posts. We were on the edge of hundreds of miles of Sahara and getting to us must have taken some effort and planning, but even when the maneuver proved successful as it did on our encampment, what did it get them? Some kind of inner grin, I suppose. Like I said, I had stopped wondering
    We were a small base of about thirty men. Most of us were killed in the attack, surprised in the middle of the night. They'd taken out our lookout with a crack sniper, so getting close was a cinch.
    I heard the bullets from the first bunker. Those guys never had a chance. Bullets in their beds. When they got to our bunker Mitchell had his rifle ready and took a few of them out before they put a bullet through his skull. I was slower to my feet, slower out of my bed and looking for ammo – I guess I can be a bit of a slouch when the time comes to get started. Maybe it saved my life this time though. They took out the rest of us before there was any more trouble, all but me and Bill Granola, who was also slow and a bit of a fatty. Macked us over the head with rifles so I woke with the worst headache conceivable.
    Looked out through bars. We were in a cage, Bill and I, a cage on wheels. It was still night but there was enough moon to see there was nothing to see in all directions but sand. I nudged Bill and he didn't respond. He wasn't dead (dead men need no cages), just more thoroughly blasted. My hands were roped together – same with Bill – and I didn't reckon we'd be alive much longer when they realized our government had no interest in ransoming us.
    I was thirsty and my other pains could fill a book, but don't worry, it ain't this one. I tried to get their attention and they ignored me. So with nothing to do, I settled in for a long ride.
    Consciousness came and went and at some point I woke and saw that Bill was also awake.
    "I'm hungry," was the first thing he said.
    "Shut up," I said.
    "We're gonna