Garrett Cook here. Efe Tusder approached me on Reddit. Self-published Bizarro guy. He was patient as I looked through his pieces, which I found surging with both emotion and outsider style, but not necessarily right. He was patient and polite as I sifted through about a dozen stories to find something where I caught bits of Ben Arzate and other Transgressive Bizarros. He captures the dry, injurious feeling of a really bad dream in this one, and I love that.
The Light Pierces Bone by Efe Tusder
The sun is setting. “The way home was the other way,” says the man lying on the street. “I purposely took the wrong turn to meet you,” I say. “My body is yours,” he says to me. I’m going home with him. “You are the reincarnation of my grandfather,” I say. “I believe you, grandson,” says my grandfather to me. At home, I present him with the sniper rifle that my father gave me when I was 5 years old. His eyes fill with tears. We go out to the balcony. The two of us have been blowing off people’s heads with rifles all night long. The police are at the door. “What are you doing?” he says. I explain the situation to him. “I understand, okay, then there is no problem,” says the police. He bought us a case of beer from the grocery store around the corner. I’m looking at my grandfather. Sitting naked on the balcony. He shows his belly. He says, “Look, my six-packs are still tight.” The sun rises from behind the hills. It illuminates the dead bodies on the street and my grandfather’s muscular belly. The police are still hanging around the corner store. My grandfather says, “I hate the rising sun.” I hate the sun setting too. He points the gun at the sun. He fires a bullet. The sun is setting. I take the gun from him. I put my grandfather in front of the door and kick him out. I go out to the balcony, the dead begin to stink. My grandfather is showing his six-pack to the police officer below. The police bought him a beer, and he is looking at me. “You should be ashamed, he is your elder,” his eyes say. They drink beer together and look at me. I feel guilty. I go downstairs and make peace with my grandfather. The sun is not rising. The dead are crying.
Efe Tusder writes short bizarro fictions and deals with collage art, pulp comix, and zines. He lives on planet Earth. His books Unfinished Skeletons (Dumpster Fire Press, USA 2021) and Tales From The Rotten Land (Cajun Mutt Press, USA 2023) are available on Amazon. His new book, Into The Swamp of The Dangerous Mind, is available now. (Cajun Mutt Press, USA 2025).
Instagram: @efetusder
This post may contain affiliate links. Further details, including how this supports the bizarro community, may be found on our disclosure page.
