Category Archives: semi-fiction

DRUNK DRIVING HOUR by Peter Nolan Smith

During the early 1970s my college comrades and I drank at the Hi-hat Lounge in Brighton. The girls were young, the drinks were cheap, and we sold ‘ludes and mescaline at the bar. Neither of them were the best available in Boston, but we were always in supply, so the bands playing on Commonwealth Avenue […]

PASSING GRADE by Peter Nolan Smith

My older brother worked too much. Frunk had a big house on Milton Hill and I was in Boston to visit my father. Frunk was at his office, as were most lawyers in Boston on a weekday. “Meet me a Durgin Park.” I loved their chowder. “Can’t.” He sounded stressed. “What about Jacob Wirth.” Their […]

THE HOLE OF HEAVEN by Peter Nolan Smith

According to the Old Testament God banished Adam and Eve from Eden for eating apples and their Original Sin condemned future generations to this mortal coil, however humans have defied this divine decree with repeated attempts to recreate Heaven on Earth. Most of these utopias have been short-lived, because nothing irked true believers more than […]

BIG FOOT by Peter Nolan Smith

In 1977 I moved out of my SRO room in Greenwich Village to the East Village with my hillbilly girlfriend. The third-floor walk-up on East 10th Street had a bathtub in the kitchen and a water closet off the living room. I carved Alice’s name on the wooden window sill. We lasted until 1979. The […]

SPICE MAD DAY by Peter Nolan Smith

Last year I celebrated Columbus Day with my doctor on Staten Island. Nick was Italian and cooked great meatballs. The doctor and I had met during our freshman class of European History 101. We had received Bs from the professor. His kids had the day off and we enjoying the meal. “Hey, Nico, I have […]