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Excerpt of Motherfucking Sharks by Brian Allen Carr

On the ground, near a puddle, its face the smell of chocolate, a toddler toddles.

See this, friend: eyes green, cheeks alight with joy. Blonde hair only ever so slightly feathered by breeze. A giggle. A tummy laugh. You ever touched a toddler’s tummy? It feels like suede-wrapped heaven. It smells like milk and hugs and handshakes from God. You see this little boy? This little white boy? If it hurts you more to see a black boy die, then make him black in your mind, I don’t care what it looks like so long as you’re uncomfortable. Instead, reader, do this. Picture for me, if you will, the child you love the most. Hold it in your head. Dress it with the form you’d least like see killed. In this way, we have always been a team. I tell you a thing, but you spin it real in your head. So, I won’t tell you everything. Hell, make it a girl. Make it your own. Give me a child. Put it in your mind. Put it by a puddle. Put joy in its heart. I’m going to fuck it up. I’m going to unleash a magical shark on it. I’m going to turn that precious thing into a bucket of death shaped the way that hurts you most. Put that fucking child by that fucking puddle and let me kill the fuck out of it. I will strip its skin from its body, toss chunks of it at you like strips of bacon. Your baby. Make the fucking baby. I want to kill the fucking baby you’ve made in your mind. Is it there? Is it the baby?

Now, up comes the shark.

Now listen, I’m serious here, I’m willing to sacrifice my spot in Heaven to make you feel bad while reading this. I’ll quit drinking forever tomorrow, and I won’t jerk off to amateur porn anymore—you know the kind that’s been stolen and where the women look embarrassed and the men look eager and the light is yellow and you can nearly smell the sin—but it won’t matter anymore, because after I kill this toddler out of your imagination, God will think me reprehensible. I want this to all occur inside of you. We’re a team, okay? We’re gonna kill this little kid together.

Kill this kid with me.

Put it in your mind and let’s kill it.

Just you and me.

Just you and me and our imaginations.

Just two people. Taking a kid and killing it in our hearts.

It’s not real.

It’s just.

Let’s take this kid. This cute little kid. It’s by the puddle. And in that puddle is something dark.

The child is innocent. The shark is heinous. Teeth. Teeth. Teeth.

Look at a baby’s hand. It’s so soft.

Look at a shark’s mouth. All those teeth, so sharp.

Take that soft little hand, with those soft little fingers. Piggies. Piggies.

Sing: this little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home.

God, I’m gonna fucking put those cute little fingers in that fucking shark’s mouth. God, it will be fucked up. I’m gonna drag them over the teeth. Oh, shit, they will not stand a chance.

Hahaha. Look at the baby’s face. It’s fucking crying.

There’s blood everywhere.

It’s trying to suck its thumb.

Hey, dumbass, thumb’s gone.

I fed it to a fucking shark.



It bites the kid again. Oh, man.

These motherfucking sharks are crazy.


Brian Allen Carr lives on the Texas/Mexico border. Motherfucking Sharks is out now with Lazy Fascist Press.

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