Bunco vs. Hunk-o

It’s 6:45 p.m…6:53, and then it’s 7:00 sharp, the time we planned to meet. I’m sitting in my BMW, soothing my neurotic apprehension with hits from the ‘80s on Sirius. The moon is smiling aloft on this typically faint-starred night. The light bleed of the human mass...
“Irascible”

“Irascible”

It’s that time of the month again. The time when brains go on fail-safe mode and the fingers play the game. It’s time to be among the Bunco Babes. It’s the scene of frivolity and conversational wandering that goes nowhere and everywhere, weaving a...