Category: Breaking Fiction

My machete, my mushrooms, and me

L.T. HanlonLeave a comment
Image shows a shirtless young man laughing as he leans against a pickup truck.

I stumbled down the residential street, my mind a kaleidoscope from the ‘shrooms. The cool night air felt electric, and I felt invincible.

Danger? No way. Fuck it!

A house caught my eye. I banged on the front door until the glass shattered. A family, perched on a sofa, shifted their gaze from Netflix to me.

I shed my clothes, reveling in the freedom. Get a load of this, you stinking normies!

Then, headlights, blue lights, red lights, and cop voices flooded the street. I swung a machete over my head and dove into the bed of a pickup parked in the driveway.

Machete? Where the fuck did I get that?

Johnny Law dogpiled me in seconds; a burly officer knocked my blade aside. I tore the left-side mirror from the truck as the cops wrestled me to the concrete.

At the hospital, I ripped out four IVs before orderlies strapped me to an exam table. The sedatives took hold, and my world faded to black.

The next day I awoke puking in a County Detention Center holding cell. Maybe running around naked and terrifying a family hadn’t been the best way to party.

Would it help if I sent them an apology note?

Text and photo copyright © 2024 L.T. Hanlon. All content in this post is fiction.

Get my new book!

L.T. Hanlon1 Comment

Dive into the depths of “Breaking Fiction,” 35 short stories spotlighting the morally ambiguous. From bikers to killers and counterfeiters to undeniable jerks, this anthology explores the dark corners of human nature. But don’t fret! Sensitive readers will find an occasional Goody Two-Shoes offering a contrasting glimpse of kindness in a doomed world teeming with vice.

With “Breaking Fiction,” I venture into the realm of short stories, drawing inspiration from news headlines that daily weave through our lives. This collection represents more than just a series of narratives; it explores the layers and possibilities beneath the surface of everyday journalism.

Each piece in “Breaking Fiction” extends beyond the straightforward recounting of events, delving into the what-ifs and might-have-beens that news stories often leave to the imagination. Through this work, I offer readers a space to ponder the news’s deeper emotional and societal implications, inviting reflection on how these stories resonate within our personal and collective experiences.

“Breaking Fiction” is available in paperback and as a Kindle eBook.




Young women, a young evening, and old tactics

L.T. HanlonLeave a comment
Two stunning young women sip white wine as they assess rich, older cowboys at the Brown Palace Hotel's Churchill Bar.

In the dimly lit Churchill Bar of the Brown Palace Hotel, Morgan and Debbree perched elegantly on their bar stools, sipped white wine, and engaged in their favorite pastime when the National Western Stock Show was in town: man-watching with a purpose.

The clock struck 6 p.m., and with each man who entered, they whispered assessments of looks, apparent wealth, and potential for an evening’s adventure.

Their game was interrupted as two men in black cowboy hats took seats beside them. One had a rugged charm, his eyes twinkling with mischief, while the other carried an air of quiet confidence. “Jack,” said the first with a warm smile, extending a hand. “And this is Bryce.”

Debbree, her eyes glinting with amusement, responded, “I’m Debbree, and this is Morgan. You boys look like you just rode in from the ranch.”

Jack chuckled, “Well, we might not have horses tied up outside, but we’ve got stories that’ll make you feel like you’ve been on a wild ride.”

Bryce leaned in, his gaze fixed on Morgan. “I bet we’ve got more than just stories to share. Maybe some experiences, too, if you’re interested.”

Morgan’s lips curved into a sly smile. “We’re all about new experiences. Aren’t we, Bree?”

“Absolutely,” Debbree said. “Especially those that involve a bit of adventure and … spontaneity.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Spontaneity? You ladies might just be in for a treat, then. Ever been to the Buckhorn Exchange?”

Morgan shook her head.

Bryce’s smile broadened. “It’s Denver’s oldest steakhouse. The kind of place where stories are as rich as the steaks. We’d love to show you.”

Debbree exchanged a glance with Morgan. The unspoken agreement was clear.

Text and photo copyright © 2024 L.T. Hanlon. All content in this post is fiction.

Buster Chander buys a gun from an old friend

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Buster Chander had always been a man of few words, but when it came to killing someone who had been blackmailing him, he was as clear as day.

“I want a handgun,” he said to Bisbee, owner of Silver State Sidearm Solutions. “Light enough so I can carry it all day without getting tired and still be able to aim true.”

Buster only cared a little about the brand or make as long as it could take down a man. Bisbee knew Buster well enough to understand his intentions. He nodded and began to showcase various guns on display.

“How about an AMT?” he asked, holding up a small pistol with a silencer attached. “Or maybe a Colt? Or a Beretta? We have SIGs, H&Ks, Smith & Wessons, Rugers — and even Tauruses if you’re looking for something more budget-friendly.”

Buster shook his head in disdain. “Something simple. Something I can use to put a bullet through an asshole’s skull without any fuss.”

Bisbee understood where Buster was coming from. He’d had seen plenty of cowboys like him come into his shop over the years, looking to settle old scores.

“Well, I happen to have one such gun in my underground inventory,” he said. He reached into a deep drawer under the display case and handed Buster a sleek black pistol whose plastic components made it look like a toy.

“Here’s what some of us like to call the ‘Timmy Special,’” Bisbee said. “The Glock 21’s proved itself in combat and crimefighting and is still favored by many lawmen. This baby’s reliable, accurate and indestructible. And Tim McVeigh carried it on that day of infamy. You can bet your ass it’ll dust your sleazeball blackmailer.”

Buster cleared the gun, sighted it, and pulled the trigger.

Click.

“This is the gun for you, Buster,” Bisbee said. “It’s lightweight enough to carry all day and packs quite a punch. You can solve most problems with just one shot from this bad boy.”

After some haggling, Buster paid top dollar in cash for the gun, no serial number, no records, no registration, no waiting period, fuck the feds.

With that, Buster left the gun shop, ready to blast that motherfucker to Kingdom Come.

Text and photo copyright © 2024 L.T. Hanlon. All content in this post is fiction.

Secrets at altitude: The turbulent life of Buster Chander

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An elderly man in a cowboy hat stares out the window of a Boeing 737.

Lawrence “Buster” Chander gazed blankly out the United Airlines Boeing 737 window, the vast, open sky mirroring the expanse of his life, which now teetered on the brink of collapse.

At nearly 80, Buster stood as a stalwart figure in Montana, revered for the success of Chander Ranch Beef, a legacy he had nurtured into an international brand. But as the plane cut through the clouds toward Denver, where the National Western Stock Show awaited, a specter from the past ensnared Buster’s mind.

Forty-five years ago, a clandestine visit to Fort Dix, a gay bath in Denver, threatened to unravel his life when an anonymous blackmailer demanded $500 — which Buster paid without hesitation.

Now, after decades of silence, the blackmailer had returned and demanded $250,000 to avoid photographic evidence being shared online with the world.

The renewed threat loomed like a dark cloud, ready to expose Buster’s concealed truth to his wife, children, and grandchildren. His conservative family, woven into the fabric of Montana’s traditional values, would never understand. The revelation would not just break their hearts; it would shatter the very foundation of Chander Ranch Beef.

Buster didn’t have the money to ensure the silence. More crucially, he couldn’t bear the thought of tarnishing his family’s name and life’s work. He had lived in duplicity, always fearing this moment. Society’s views on homosexuality might have softened over the years, but not in the circles Buster inhabited. His family, his community, they wouldn’t see past the scandal.

As the plane descended into the Mile High City, a resolve hardened within Buster, and by the time he stepped off the plane, his decision was irrevocable. The price of silence had become too steep and the cost of revelation too devastating.

Text and photo copyright © 2024 L.T. Hanlon. All content in this post is fiction.

Company’s T-shirt becomes Stock Show sensation

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Two cowboys wear off-color T-shirts.

DENVER — Thanks to a typo, a bull semen distributor’s T-shirts are the surprise marketing hit of the National Western Stock Show.

Eric Cream, CEO of Cream of Bull Inc., a cattle genetics and artificial insemination business, said a T-shirt printer misspelled his company’s name as “Cram a Bull.”

“Our employees didn’t notice until they’d already passed out a couple hundred,” Cream said. Seeing the positive response, Cream ordered thousands more of the uniquely misprinted shirts.

The company’s slogan on the back — “Get a load of my winning semen!” — only added to the shirts’ popularity.

“These things are a chick magnet,” declared bull rider Toby Clunt Jr.

The National Western Stock Show, now in its 118th year, annually draws over 700,000 visitors. The vibrant celebration of the Western lifestyle features rodeos, livestock exhibitions, and agricultural trade and continues through Jan. 21.

Text and photo copyright © 2024 L.T. Hanlon. All content in this post is fiction.