Resurrection Prologue or There and Back Again, A Moving Tale

Cue the Hallelujah Chorus and pardon my atrocious pun.  [F]ap [Cr]iction is not dead, for it has risen. Or rather, will shortly.

I'll allow a moment for my reader to rejoice, as I am nothing without my fan.

Despite popular conspiracy theories, my unplanned sabbatical was not due to presidential appointment, unplanned intergalactic travel, mental exhaustion from writing the first six posts, nor alien abduction (at least that's what they would have you believe).  The real reason is much more mundane and practical.  Mid-October, my wife received a job offer in Kansas City, Missouri and, three weeks later, more than a decade in Chicago is behind us and the future is bright and filled with...Missourians.

First, some unsolicited advice.  If ever anyone should offer you the opportunity to pack up all of your belongings, load them into a too-small U-Haul truck and (on the same day) make a solo overnight road trip from Chicago to Kansas City—all in a matter of three short weeks, from start to finish—kindly punch them in the neck and be on your way.

In sum: moving is a monster, kill it with fire.

Of course, I'm embellishing a bit here.  Now that we're mostly settled, in retrospect, it was not that bad.  In fact, I believe that every man should, at least once, pack up their lifetime of accumulated crap and truck it across several states on just a few hours sleep, fueled only by Starbucks Mocha Frappuccinos®, Haribo Gold-Bears and an unexplained yearning for the Missouri state line.  Now that I've successfully done that, let us never speak of it again.

Never fear, however, as there are many new and interesting posts in the works for [F]ap [Cr]iction.  Of note in particular:

One of my (okay only) award-winning short stories (no bullshit);

New, non-award winning short story about sex addiction (as rejected by the Norman Mailer Writing Colony!);

Even more execrable poetry from my youth;

Published (gasp!) poetry;

New, slightly less execrable poetry; and

Coming soon: six-word erotic fiction in the key of Hemingway...just to name a few.

And now, finally, I'll wrap up this seemingly random post with a haiku in honor of those left behind:

You cut me, Maddi.

Your midnight yowls enraged me.

Yet now, I miss you.

Stay tuned, it can only get more interesting. Right?

Photo Credit.