Dark stories, tales of whimsy and random brain droppings.

Eddie Zovinovich

No one could pronounce my last name growing up. Eddie Zovinovich. How fucking hard is that? Back in the eighth grade, Pete Tomilson and his croonies ruled the hallways with iron fists. ‘Zero’ they called me, largely because I was smallish and kept to my own, preferring to doodle in my notebook. School bored the piss out of me. I wasn’t stupid and everyone knew it. Kids left me alone and that was fine with me. Pete, on the other hand, was dumb as a fucking stump. He pegged me for a sucker only once. Thought he could hustle my lunch by tossing my book out the window. A face full of chiclets later, he learned what ‘Zero’ meant.

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