The Big Purple Book of Badass Stories: 2022

By Purple Wall Publishing

Chosen by three editors and thousands of voters, from over seventy countries, these are the monthly champions, honorable mentions, and editor's choice selection from Purplewallstories.com. Featuring the work of Ben Cooper, Jeremiah Dylan Cook, Wil R.P. McCarthy, Paul M. An

• Language: English
• Publisher: Purple Wall Publishing
• Release date: Dec 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9781088002940

Book preview

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The Big Purple Book of Badass Stories

A collection of editor’s choices, honorable mentions, and monthly tournament winners from Purplewallstories.com which were published during 2021.

Editorial Committee

Carrol Phillips

Chaz Hager

Benjamin T. Lambright

Cover Design

Benjamin T. Lambright

©Benjamin T. Lambright

All Rights Reserved

www.purplewallstories.com

ISBN:

978-0-578-33032-7

978-1-0880-0294-0

Purple Wall Stories

Contents

Ben Cooper, FIRE IN THE WOODS 3

Jeremiah Dylan Cook, THE HUNGRY CEMETERY 18

Wil R.P. McCarthy, SELF-AWARE 22

Paul M. Anderson, OBSERVABLE UNIVERSE 30

Carly Kapusinsky, A DRAFT IN THE LIBRARY 37

Dutch Simmons, A BRIEF NOTE ON CARNATIONS 40

Cal Koyasu, DIANTHUS CARYOPHYLLUS 42

Jacob Cohen, SPAGHETTI INCIDENT 51

Mikhail Gladkikh, SEA-BORN 54

Ian Shea, GOTTA BE MORE CAREFUL 57

Douglas Kolacki, THAT’S ONLY IN HOLOCAUST STORIES 63

Matthew McGuirk, BOONE’S FARM 71

Zanele Mailula, GIRL’S LIKE ME 79

James Rumpel, TICK TICK TICK 91

Blessing Culver, BENNY’S GOOD PAL MR. KITTY 96

Joshua Rodriguez, THAT DAMN SHOE 100

Jill Hand, JOHNNY’S BIG BREAK 106

Alyssa Baker, UNSPOKEN 112

Rob Samborn, THE NAKED FLAME 125

Dale Rogers, SUSPICIOUS CHARACTER 134

The Big Purple Book of Badass Stories: 2022

A few notes on the book you are about to read.

During the earliest months of the year, Purple Wall Stories was shut down as we rebuilt our website. So, if you find yourself wondering where a month went as you read, this is the likely reason. We also had a disqualification and story withdawn from the anthology for personal reasons; these might also account for a missing entry or two. If you find yourself wondering why December has two co-champions, that’s because we run a special tournament that month and bring back eight of our favorite non-winners from previous months. If you find yourself wondering why Douglas Kolacki is both an honorable mention and a co-champion, that’s because he recieved the HM nod in October, and we brought him back in December, where he won.

A few definitions for the sake of clarity.

CHAMPION: A story that recieved the highest number of votes in a given month.

HONORABLE MENTION: Chosen as the editor’s favorite story during each monthly tournament except December.

EDITOR’S CHOICE: Stories we felt ought to be included in the anthology regardless of wins or losses.

STORY OF THE YEAR: The story choosen by our Patreon supporters as the best piece published by Purple Wall during 2021.

Fire in the Woods

by Ben Cooper

Champion. January 2021.

It was President’s Day, and there were no classes. My friend Denny and I had decided to build a fire in the woods. We didn’t plan on being there too long; we were going to a party afterwards.

I sat sprawled on the dilapidated beanbag chair in my cramped dorm room, waiting for Denny to call. He was my only friend with a car, and didn’t seem to mind giving me lifts. My roommate had left to grab a bite to eat, and I had the place to myself. He was a soft-spoken farm kid who ardently loathed my affinity for sixties rock.

Sometimes I longed to be back home where I had control over my domain. Perhaps the uncertainty of college life was getting to me. Still, I refused to become one of those weak-willed freshmen, another hapless victim of homesickness. With a twist of the plastic wand dangling from the blinds, afternoon sunlight cut through the dim room sending dust particles flittering through the shafts of light. I turned on some Stones, plopped back down on the beanbag and dozed off.

The phone rang, jarring me awake. How long had I been out? I fumbled for the receiver, answering on the third ring.

Hey, Mel, pick you up in five. Be ready! Oh, and bring any beer you have. We’ve got ladies coming with us and they’ll be thirsty. My brow furrowed in concentration as I struggled to picture the inside of my refrigerator.

I’ve got half a case of Bud, best case scenario.

Okay, see ya in a bit.

I changed the CD, singing along to The Doors as I crammed my backpack with beer. I also stuffed my dark green Kipton College sweatshirt into the pack and put two Swisher Sweets in my front pocket. I left with the music blaring, another jab at my roommate in our endless battle to annoy one another.

I emerged from the dormitory, squinting. There was no sign of Denny so I bummed a cigarette from a classmate and chatted about an upcoming assignment on The Odyssey. Within minutes a black Bonneville pulled up with tires screeching and horn blasting, each honk sounding more insistent than the next.

Chill the hell out! I shouted as fellow students turned to see what the commotion was about. As soon as I was in the front seat, Denny peeled out. The malodorous smell of burnt rubber wafted in before I managed to close the door.

What’s the rush? I asked as I tossed my backpack in the backseat.

You’re messin’ with my timetable! Denny said snidely, cranking up the stereo. I’ve got a date with destiny!

You mean, we, right?

No seriously, her name is Destiny! Dry sarcasm was his specialty and I was apparently due for a hefty helping.

The first time I had met Denny was at one of his infamous house parties. As soon as my friends and I had walked into his apartment, he seemed to single me out, delivering a baneful, loathing stare. Being a naive teenager and not wanting to back down, I took the bait and stared right back. Finally, Denny seceded, and yelled from across the room, Who the hell are you, and why are you here? Inebriated and slightly intimidated, I gave him a look as if to say, Is this guy crazy or what? Denny’s expression grew sour, on the cusp of indignation. I was just about to turn and leave when he burst out laughing. Hey, I’m just screwing with ya, man! he relented. You’re here because this is a party. I’m Denny, and this is my place! He rushed over, threw an arm around me, and chummed it up as if we were old friends. Sure, Denny was smug, even arrogant at times, but he was a good friend. Plus, he knew a lot of girls.

So, is Destiny bringing any of her stripper friends?

Denny looked me in the eyes, giving me his undivided attention, road safety be damned.

Mel, bud, this is your lucky day ‘cause Destiny’s roommate, Lisa, is all about you. She remembers you from some fraternity party we crashed a few weeks back. But beef up the vocab, cause she’s a poli-sci major. We pulled up to the girls’ dormitory. Denny strummed his thumbs on the wheel, humming out of tune.

Partying in the woods, a Kipton tradition, was a welcome respite from the barrage of papers and exams. Truth be told, I was burnt out. What was the point anyhow? Bust my ass to graduate just to be ushered into line at the unemployment office? But the alternative not only brought parental disappointment but likely a blue collar, minimum wage job for eternity, which was motivation enough for me to soldier on.

Forgot to tell you, Lisa’s friend Molly insisted on bringing this guy Jake from her film class, Denny mentioned, as if his casual delivery would counteract any adverse reaction from me.

Well, that’s the cost of doing business, I suppose. In this case, getting Lisa to come, I replied evenly, although I was secretly peeved another guy was tagging along.

Apparently, he’s down on his luck. The girls thought a night out would do him good. As if on cue, the back door opened.

Hi, Denny! one of the girls, perhaps Destiny, chirped cheerfully. She wrapped her arms around Denny from behind, and he forced out a laugh. Lisa and Molly followed, and brief introductions were exchanged. They had brought a case with them; more than I had expected from girls of Kipton. Maybe Denny had landed some decent girls for a change, ones who wouldn’t flirt just to bum a cigarette.

Thanks for bringing booze! Denny said, genuinely appreciative. Saves us a trip to the store. Hey, move over! he urged me with an elbow prod. Jake needs to get in. As I slid over to the middle hump, the passenger door opened and a guy looking like he just walked out of post-apocalyptic El Paso made himself comfortable, spreading his legs, crushing me up against the center console. I awaited his greeting but he maintained his silence.

Mel, I finally said, extending my hand, after it was apparent he wasn’t going to introduce himself.

Jake, he muttered, almost inaudibly. A foul odor, somewhere between stale sweat and burnt cigarettes, wafted from his direction. Maybe it was his weathered leather motorcycle jacket that reeked or perhaps the ripped wide-brimmed cowboy hat, which probably hadn’t been washed in years. The car filled with raucous chatter as we headed out of town and towards the woods. Denny and Destiny were arguing over directions like a married couple, and talking with Lisa was impossible from the front seat. I had no choice but to strike up a conversation with Jake.

So, where’re you from? I asked in my most polite voice. Robotically, he turned his head towards me. A patchy black beard covered his slender face. His complexion reminded me of a worn baseball mitt. His eyes were bloodshot, and he spoke in a low, emotionless tone.

Tipowana, Michigan. It’s a town full of phonies and wannabe gangbangers. I hate the place, I really do. Okay, rough start. I refrained from further questioning. I cursed Denny under my breath for getting me into this awkward situation. Suddenly, Jake began rolling his head around slowly. With a wry smirk, he gradually sped up his head turning. Was freaking out new acquaintances his idea of entertainment? Even stranger, I was the only one who appeared to notice.

Before I could ask him if he was alright, he suddenly stopped, whipped his head around, and stared me down with a devious, yellow-toothed grin. Ever smoke weed? Before I could respond, he continued, You look like a clean cut sort of kid. You’re probably freaking out, sitting next to a dude like me. Bet your parents, teachers, pretty much everyone, taught you to stay away from my type.

Only if the bad influence was a cowboy named Jake. I could tell by his hesitant smirk that my witty retort had caught him off-guard.

Jake rubbed his chin, as if searching for the perfect comeback. Just say no to drugs! he hollered, followed by a Yeehaw! Everyone laughed, unaware of the context of the comment. His attitude instantly flipped from hostile to playful, and he chuckled to himself, drumming his fingers on the dash. He proceeded to tell me to take his harmless banter at face value and that it was in his nature to mess with people. I told him it was cool, although it was most certainly anything but.

Fifteen minutes into the agonizing drive, I was at my wit’s end. Jake’s foul stench was becoming more than I could bear. The hump in the seat was gradually wedging further up my rear. Finally, the urban landscape transitioned to rural and soon we had crossed a familiar stone bridge; we were close. Denny turned off onto a dirt road leading to an old forest preserve which had fallen victim to state budget cuts. I spotted a neglected wooden sign with vines snaking up its posts, a welcome to a camping site long abandoned.

We came to a small clearing with a fire pit. Before the car had even come to a stop, I nudged Jake, prompting him to exit. My mood instantly improved as I took in the fresh forest air. My main priority, besides keeping my distance from Jake, was properly introducing myself to Lisa. As the girls and I chatted, Jake inspected the pit, poking piles of ash with his feet.

Got any lighter fluid? he demanded hastily as he stared intently into the charred ash, as if searching for some hidden meaning.

Denny rummaged through his trunk. Yep, right here! he called out triumphantly, bringing it over along with a couple of beach towels and beers. Here you go, ladies. Only the five star treatment this evening. With the grace of an experienced gentleman, Denny snapped out the towels, laying them down perfectly.

Thanks, Denny, the girls giggled in unison. Beers were passed around.

If we run out I’ve got half a case in the car, I explained, hoping Lisa would be impressed with my forethought.

The girls smiled warmly, and Lisa looked at me adoringly, uttering a sincere, Thanks, Mel.

Hey Jake, why don’t you be a pal and scrounge up some firewood? Denny suggested. Jake lit a cigarette. He let it dangle from the corner of his mouth, smiling crookedly.

Yeah, I’ll take a walk, he complied before grabbing a couple of beers and stuffing them in his pockets. He ventured off into the woods, the sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves reminiscent of a lumbering beast making his way through the underbrush.

I sidled up to Denny and kneeled down, helping crumble newspaper and break branches for kindling. This Jake character is one weird dude. What’s his deal? I whispered.

Nah, he’s harmless. Just shy. Besides, without him, the girls wouldn’t have come, so just be cool. I asked the girls about their classes as I emptied the pit of beer bottles and realigned the rocks that formed the rim.

Denny got the fire going, despite almost singeing his eyebrows in a lighter fluid infused fireball. I was just getting acquainted with Lisa, a hazel-eyed brunette with a tendency to stutter and an affinity for cheesy comedies, when Denny rudely interrupted.

Mel, can you find Jake? We need that kindling!

No prob, I groaned, standing up, noticing Lisa’s subtle frown of disappointment. Get some tunes playing. But don’t run your stereo too long, I don’t want to be stranded out here ‘cause of a dead battery.

Relax, dad! I’m an adult now! Denny scoffed. Grudgingly, I entered the woods to track down the rogue cowboy. Soon thereafter, I spotted Jake’s hat poking out from behind a towering oak.

Hey, Jake! I called out. Startled, he cocked his head to see who was coming. Warily, I approached. A pile of branches was at his feet. He stood there looking perplexed, sipping his beer, and clutching a small plastic bag. Upon spotting me, his hand shot into his pocket, stuffing the bag in and pulling out a tissue. He proceeded to blow his nose rather obnoxiously.

Party of one out here, or what? His blank stare did not waver.

Just taking a break…from it all. Isn’t it peaceful out here? Why go back? An uncomfortable silence followed.

You alright? I finally asked. You look a little pale.

He leaned up against the tree, his face going slack. Yeah, just been thinkin’. Nature is good for thinking, you know, real quiet, no distractions. I nodded in agreement.

Want a beer? he offered.

I have an extra one. I nodded again, in the hopes that appeasing him would conclude our awkward exchange.

He handed me his open can of beer. It was almost full, so I didn’t complain. He dug into his pocket and pulled out another Icehouse. So, where do you call home in this pitiful place we call Earth? he asked, cracking open the beer.

The Baltimore area.

I wish I wasn’t from Michigan. I’m never going back. Then when someone asks me where I’m from I can say, I’m from nowhere! Jake’s idea