by Evan Fleischer

I don't know where you are when you read this, but you know the implicit cultural cliché that marches through our lives that ‘there's a porno for everything?’ How — minutes after someone has delivered the State of the Union — phones ping across the country to let you know that a porn version of the selfsame address has just been released? How the speed of this particular aspect of creation moves even faster than the creation of certain episodes of Law and Order? That speed has now claimed this story. There's a porn version of this story. Please don't google it.

Or do! Or, rather, don't. And, no, I don't know how they did it, let alone whether or not a 'why' might reveal itself — how they were able to move faster than the speed of a clause cooked up amongst the gentle evening air-brush of trees in a part of Virginia so quiet that people 'round here tend to summon up horses that may or may not exist to patrol the streets wearing tiny glittering cowboy hats while they sleep — but, hey, they did it. It’s on the screen. Mission accomplished. Medals bestowed. Shirts removed and tossed out the window faster than a bomb in wartime.

About The Author

Born in Long Beach, California and raised in Massachusetts, Evan Fleischer has written about William Faulkner's maps for LitHub, Alasdair Gray's sense of Glasgow for The New Yorker, explored a French translation of Groucho Marx's memoir in The Paris Review, and is currently working as a fiction editor over at Hobart Pulp.

Cover Photo info:

https://www.flickr.com/photos/eioua/2788129890/in/photolist-5fnTT1-5Pkmdf