Tag Archives: Jon Savage

“The Nest of His Love” – Fiction by Jon Savage

Kennedy Motorcade - Audrey Flack, 1964
Kennedy Motorcade – Audrey Flack, 1964

A boy navigates early-60’s America raised by his damaged veteran father in “The Nest of His Love,” Jon Savage‘s exquisitely brutal contribution to our Winter 2016 issue.

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’62 was the year My Old Man retired from the Army, and without the daily routine of the service, he took up a series of habits—wrapping his lips around a bottle of hard liquor like he puckered-up for a kiss; cleaning his pistol during the night’s late hours in the strobing light of our color TV while telling a story about the wars that still raged in his mind; and last of all—smoking through packs of Embassy’s, complaining about their new filtered cigarettes, about how he had to try too hard and always got too little.

A Mode of Crisis

Near the end of ’62, My Old Man talked about the Russians a lot. He went on about Soviet Scud-A missiles and the spread of Red across hemispheres. He drank beer and screamed at the nightly newscasts. Lost control and waved his pistol around while shouting, You think Stalin is dead, you mother fuckers between puffs of his Embassy’s.

Then, in October, it happened. The face of John Fitzgerald Kennedy flashed across our television screen. He talked like a steady drum. He said the Soviets were moving missiles.

My Old Man never stopped to say I told you so. He took a series of precautions that bled into the rules of our home, all in the case of disaster. My Mother was required to keep a certain ration of canned goods in the cabinets. We kept our shoes lined up near the front door. He backed the Buick into the driveway any time he returned from the hardware store to pick up more matches and candles.

This went on for almost two weeks—our family halfway out the door with cans of peas and navy beans in the crooks of our arms. My Old Man would run into the house with a whistle clinched between his teeth, blowing his alarm for an evacuation. He screamed like a gym coach. He yelled for us to move our asses as we hustled out the door cradling blankets and jugs of water.

And when the three of us were packed away in the Buick, My Old Man would put the keys in the ignition, check his watch, and say, That was slow. Lucky for us it wasn’t real.

A War Story

He said he’d seen four big, borsch-eating Ivans rip a Jerry limb-from-limb after the Kraut sonofabitch was found snoring-drunk in a liberated Belgium brothel. They tried to weasel some information out of the poor bastard, but the Kraut was drunker than a skunk, and the Ivans didn’t speak a lick of Deutsch. They put the Jerry’s own P38 to his head and shouted Roosky like it would make a difference.

They kept straight faces as they stripped him naked and dragged him through the street. They announced him to the freed citizens and the soldiers, paraded him around for the Belgians and the Tommies and the Americans and the other Ivans to spit on and kick. They threw him in the farm mud. Pushed his face in it. They rolled him around in it til he was coated with pig shit. They beat him for hours, til they got tired of playing around. Then they took hold of the Jerry’s arms and legs.

Continue reading “The Nest of His Love” – Fiction by Jon Savage

FLAPPERHOUSE Reading #5 in Pictures

A jillion juicy thank-yous to everyone who helped make Reading #5 such a joy: Bud, Joanna, Jon, Shawn, Franz, J.E., & Ron for reading your flappy lits; Alibi for your scintillating singing & lovely photography; Pacific Standard for your warm hospitality; and all you sweet sexy people who came out on a Winter Wednesday night to watch us. How ’bout we do this again on, say, March 23rd?

photos by Alibi Jones


Bud Smith reads his flash fiction “Tiger Blood,” originally published at Hobart


Joanna C. Valente reads “Chapel of Sacred Mirrors,” one of five powerful poems she contributed to FLAPPERHOUSE #8 Continue reading FLAPPERHOUSE Reading #5 in Pictures

FLAPPERHOUSE Reading #5 / Issue #8 Flight Party

Come experience a post-Solstice epiphany & join us as we celebrate the flight of our 8th issue with our 5th reading on 3 Kings’ day– that’s  WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 6 from 7 to 9 PM at Pacific Standard, 82 Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn.