Pathologies

By William Walsh

17 very short stories by the author of Without Wax and Questionstruck and Ampersand, Mass.

If you like these stories, check out Ampersand, Mass., a full-length collection of short stories by William Walsh.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Keyhole Press
• Release date: Apr 17, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452458595

William Walsh

William Walsh is the author of seven other books, including the award-winning collection of poems, Fly Fishing in Times Square (Červená Barva Press). He is the director of the Reinhardt University undergraduate creative writing program and the MFA program. Widely published in some of the finest journals including Five Points, The Georgia Review, The Kenyon Review, and Literary Matters, he is also known for his literary interviews, which have included: Czeslaw Milosz, Joseph Brodsky, A.R. Ammons, Richard Blanco, Eavan Boland, Pat Conroy, Harry Crews, James Dickey, Rita Dove, Mary Hood, Ursula Le Guin, Andrew Lytle, and Lee Smith. Born in Jamestown, NY and raised in Lakewood until moving south in 1972, his historical family has resided in Chautauqua County since pre-Revolutionary War. A graduate of Georgia State University and Vermont College, he resides in Atlanta with his family. He is the director of the undergraduate and graduate creative writing programs at Reinhardt University, in Waleska, where he teaches literature and creative writing. He is the editor of the James Dickey Review. When not writing, he spends time with his family, enjoys competitive tennis and golf, as well as playing chess internationally.

Book preview

by William Walsh

Keyhole Press

an imprint of Dzanc Books

www.keyholepress.com

Pathologies © 2010 by William Walsh. Smashwords Edition. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Portions of Pathologies previously appeared in Crescent Review, Decameron, Interrobang, Kill Author, Lamination Colony, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency, No Colony, Rosebud, Sir, Suss, Sweet Fancy Moses, and This Zine Will Change Your Life.

Cover design by Peter Cole.

ISBN: 978-1-4524-5859-5

PATHOLOGIES

Footboy

The Wrong Barthelme

You Can Live on Lemons

Revision

This Laptop Kills Fascists

The Terms of My Parole

Untitled

So Much Love In The Room

Governor Ghandi, Gourmand and Ex-Con

The Margaret Atwoods

A Courtship Ballad

Beggars Can’t

Diagnosis: Mustache

Markson Mails It In

Switch

Bunny

Snowman on the Moon

FOOTBOY

First Memory

The ball came at him harder each time. He let it bounce off his chest. When it landed on the ground at his feet, he kicked it to the boy nearest him.

Catch it, one of them said.

But, again, he let the ball hit off his chest and fall to the ground. He dribbled it with his feet, toeing it carefully to keep it in front of him, until one of the other boys took the ball from him and set it down a few feet away. Pick it up with your hands, he said.

No, said Footboy. I won’t use my hands.

New Doctor

From day one he hasn’t used his hands, his mother told his new doctor. The nurse brought him to me, put him to my breast, and his feet came up and took hold of me. It was funny. All the other mothers crowded around my bed at feeding time, just to watch. We all laughed.

The doctor looked at him through his glasses, which were dusty. The look on his face said, Let’s make friends.

He’s getting older, his mother said. What kind of life is it to do everything with your feet when God gave you two good hands? Look at his skinny arms, just hanging down. They’re like rope.

He worked his right foot out of its shoe and brought it to his face, rubbing under his nose. The doctor’s eyes followed the foot back into the shoe.

Can you believe it, his mother asked?

Trying to Sleep

The weights the doctor fastened to his wrists came off easily. He placed them on the small table beside his bed and lay down to take a nap. He told himself there are no bones in his arms and hands, but he has seen the X-rays and now knows otherwise.

He closed his eyes. There’s a dream he had been having lately where he doesn’t have any arms: the sleeves of his shirt are rolled neatly to the shoulder and pinned. He tried to put himself back into that happy dream, but the voice of the new doctor kept him awake.

"You’re