Third-Way Fiction

A thoughtful piece for you today, readers. David Solórzano comes to us from Boston and his MOO-G is a darkly comic way to start your Saturday morning.


Back when I lived on Lilley Ave there was a homeless guy who slept in the alley between our building and Vic’s pastries. He wore an old Bruins jersey, number 35, that must have originally been black, but had faded over the years to a dirty, depressing gray. Me and my roommates started calling him Moog, after the name on the back of the jersey, but since none of us knew anything about hockey we pronounced it like a cow sound with a G on the end.


Thanks to for the photo.

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