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The Short Form

“Glut Your Soul On My Accursed Ugliness”

Jim Shepard


On the way to the first detention, after school, he went to the nurse about his tailbone. She was sympathetic.

She gave him a pillow for his chair. The pillow turned out to be a bad move, in terms of the other kids in the detention.

The next day Mrs. Ackley lost her patience. “Anson,” she said when she got to his worksheet.

His butt was killing him. The hair on the side of his head over his ears looked like somebody’s armpit. His nose felt like the bill of a cap. “Feast your eyes,” he said, to whoever was looking. “Glut your soul on my accursed ugliness.”