issue4 - Scrambler

Definición del vientre

Definition of the Abdomen

by Luna Miguel

translated by Luis Silva

from Stomachs (Scrambler Books, 2016)

Todo está entre el pecho y la vagina. Todo lo importante

Everything lies between the breasts and the vagina. Everything that matters

está y seguirá estando aunque quizá las nubes se desnutran

is and will continue to be even if perhaps the clouds go dry

y solo quede hierba, muchísima hierba, escondida bajo la alfombra.

and all that endures is grass, a ton of grass, hidden under the rug.

La mascota soy yo. La mascota se saca de paseo a sí misma

I am the pet. And the pet takes herself out for a walk

en un acto de tranquila rebeldía. La mascota no conoce el verano.

in an act of rebellion. The pet has never seen summer.

La mascota se come a sí misma en un acto de amor. La mascota

The pet eats herself in an act of love. The pet

tiene órganos y todos se encuentran entre el pecho y la vagina.

has organs and everything can be found between the breasts and the vagina.

De qué manera podríamos definir el vientre. De qué manera

How can we define the abdomen. How does

la caja torácica esconde otra materia gris. El estómago

the rib cage hide so much gray matter. The stomach lies

está entre el pecho y la vagina. Más lejos o más cerca que los nervios. Más lejos o más cerca

between the breasts and the vagina. Farther than or closer than the ribs. Farther than or closer

que el amor de la mascota.

than the pet’s love.

Todo se alinea y queda hierba.

Everything aligns itself and the grass endures.

-Excerpt

Screenshot Stuart’s Rebuttal: “…you retired before you were born. Decided to take this life off. In the next one you will try a little harder. I was up while you were still rubbing your little toesies between the sheets dreaming of batting fourth for the Giants and showering with the team. I was born before you died for the third time in one life you resurrected tool. I died well before you while you were still alive. I was up before the thrush before the twit before the mourning doves first mating call.”

-Excerpt

Low Life in the High Desert The Gamblers Den. Daily’s Narration: “… the streets are like a family member to me now. Like A wife. Got her pregnant and she forced me into marriage. We wake up together, have domestics together. She is a fickle trick, the streets. Piss her off and she’ll turn on you. Wait a week under a bridge and she may forget but probably not. She is both my current temptress and my jealous ex. In order to hate someone properly you must love them first. Like. Dislike. Love. Hate. Earn. Owe. Same thing. Moises just walked in with his cue, full of confidence. His timing is perfect. Let’s win some money.”

-Cont.

Screenshot “… I was born eons after you and still I am older. I was well battled while you were still struggling to break through the eggs shell. I was boiling bones over fire while you were scraping flesh with your crusty teeth off a carcass you scavenged from the super-predators boneyard. I was born in a barn every day and every night and left all the doors open for you. You did not commit to me. You did not see the dangling bulb hanging from its own cord. You missed it. Now I am a born again and you have died whilst gobbling between the legs of your own rank twat for one last meal before the ultimate.” “You are a miracle to me. Sure you are. I was the one who made you a miracle.”

Back to 1: “… We stand still and the earth moves spinning fast beneath our feet. We are traveling to the north pole hand in hand you and I. As we approach the earths’ speed slows then stops and reverses and we drift across the icy spindle and backdown our globes longitudinal trail. Backwards and away from the axis in a perpetual rewinding of all the things that have come between us.”

by Shyner Nybok

Evan

by Sam Pink

When I got to work, the dining area was empty, only a handful of people at the bar. It was my second shift. St. Patty’s Day. Working the bar alone. This one guy immediately stood out. He had a hard look on his face, staring right at me. Sitting behind his draft beer, in the corner at the end of the bar by the pull-tab machine. Camoflauge baseball hat. Carhartt hoodie. I looked at him for a second then got on with my stuff. Barely knew what I was doing anyway. Didn’t have time for other shit. So I counted out my drawer and checked the open tabs on the computer OS thing, trying to remember how to use it. The owner stuck his head out from the kitchen and said to holler if I needed anything. Got it. More people came in. I got them drinks, started tabs. I looked at the guy in the camo hat. He was still staring. Man what the fuck. I stared back. Went and got ice. Stocked some beers. The server watched the bar for a couple minutes while I took a horrendous shit. As I got back behind the bar, the guy in the camo hat was just coming in again, blowing out the last of a cigarette. He sat down and held his beer at the base and just stared at me. A ticket came up from the server so I got on that. The drinks were coming faster. Green tea shots. Beers. Sex on the beach. I didn’t know people still drank those. Drinks and food. More shots. Canned seltzers. The guy in the camo hat sat there staring. He pointed to his empty glass. I went over and grabbed it. Poured him another and set it down. We stared at each other. A huge group arrived. My boss came out to help. He did some dishes and made a few drinks. Changed a keg. I saw him at the end of the bar, talking to the guy in the camo hat. The phone rang. I took a to go order. My boss came over, asked if I needed anything else. I said I didn’t think so. The guy in the camo hat was still staring. ‘Oh by the way,’ my boss said. ‘That’s Evan, he just had a stroke so talking is not really his thing right now.’ I stared back. Hand around the base of his beer glass. ‘He’s cool though. Anyway. Just holler if you need anything.’ ‘Ok.’ He went back into the kitchen. Four people at a table took shots together and yelled. A sinister sounding rap song came on the jukebox. I walked over to the man in the camo hat. Held out my hand and introduced myself. He shook my hand and closed his eyes for a sec, struggling, said, ‘I’m Ehh,’ his eyes pinched closed again, ‘I’m Ehh Ev’n.’ Nice to meet you Evan. ‘Nice….Nice you too. He pointed to his face. One of his eyelids was kind of hanging as he tried to speak. Mouth just sort of open. ‘Sorry I...cann talk.’

Scrambler

independent publisher

issue 4

this is the digital version of the print zine

Scrambler 2003-