The Concrete Veldt

by Wayne Kyle Spitzer Copyright © 2022 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. All Rights Reserved. Published by Hobb’s End Books, a division of ACME Sprockets & Visions. Cover design Copyright © 2022 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. Please direct all inquiries to: HobbsEndBooks@yahoo.com All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. It was a pleasure to piss on the world—piss on the Flashback. To stand at the edge of the W. Rosemond Avenue Bridge like you were mounting Gaia herself and let it pass: the Session Premium Lager or Pabst Blue Ribbon or Miller High Life (depending on the night); the Blue Moon or Genesee or Carling Black Label—which sat on the stomach like eggs. To just piss on the whole catastrophe—defiling it right back—as the Charger grumbled and spat and its stereo played AC/DC’s “Ride On”—bluesily, smokily, loudly, because that’s how we rolled. “It wasn’t there last night, I’m sure,” I said, finishing up. “I mean, something that size—one of us would have noticed, doused or no. Don’t you think?” “Beats me,” said Clinton. “I’m just here for the lols.” I approached the large, metal sign (which had been hung from the opposite side of the bridge before we’d lifted it off and turned it around) and reread it.