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Salvatore Buttaci
  • Male
  • Princeton, WV
  • United States
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Outstanding! This brings me back to my undergraduate days when I majored in drama and had to write timed brief dramatic pieces. I suspect none of mine would have compared favorably with this one of yours.
on Tuesday
Salvatore Buttaci added 2 blog posts
November 8
Thanks, Tovli. I was busy before nanowrimo. Just imagine now!
November 7
November 7
Kate, you always inspire me! I will continue to churn out the words and lay them at the feet of the nanowrimo beast!
November 7
Oh Sal . . . you're like the nanowri-mojo of St. Nick with your sack or blurried, scurried, hurried word woes when we all know that for you, ho ho ho -- each best of the rest of the zest of your days and not daze are JOYS and not noise in the prea...
November 7
ah! it has been a long time since I read a Sal story. Awesome, Sal--just awesome. I was thinking about you today--hope all is well. tovli
November 7
This is quite a visual 6. Good luck Sal.
November 7

Profile Information

Relationship Status:
Married
About Me:
I am an obsessive-compulsive writer. Enough said.
Website:
http://www.geocities.com/sambpoet

INVASION by Salvatore Buttaci

Wild chupacabras, “goat suckers,” nightly foray Mexican farmlands in a furtive search for prey. None of the granjeros who operate the farms and have caught glimpses of these beasts can hardly agree on what these beasts are. Evading traps, chupacabras attack livestock, puncture their hide with long sharp fangs, drain their blood, and flee.

The superstitious believe they are demons, minions of Satan, ordered to roam the world laying waste first animals and then later, humans. More than likely, venture the scientists, the chupacabras are a new breed, the result of wild dog and coyote mating. Meanwhile, the Mexican farmers safeguard their chicken coops, pastures and stables to prevent further destruction, and they pray that Archangel Miguel will put an end to this chupacabra invasion.

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Salvatore Buttaci

ARE YOU LISTENING?

She hates it when Freddie accuses her of saying something he thinks she’s elevated to international importance and he looks at her––through her!––as if he were transcending to galactic parts unknown.

“Are you listening to me?”

From across the kitchen table, forked cube of Porterhouse swelling his cheek, he offers his nagging wife a crooked smile.

“What are you posing for?” she asks, “Mad Magazine? Either you’re working towards stone-deaf or you’re getting the onset of the senile Oldtim… Continue

Posted on November 8, 2009 at 8:00am —

Salvatore Buttaci

WORD HUNTER

Black-garbed he roams the nighttime streets in search of words. Hidden only by the tall gray shadows pitched from the extending eaves onto the macadam, stealthily he lugs kidnapped parts of speech squirming in his leather sack.

He is a desperate man pursued by November’s thunderous hooves. When he rests from the exhausting hunt, time’s sharp hand jostles him to his feet. Come December, he promises himself, there will be long cold mornings sleeping late, but no time now to court a writer’s holid… Continue

Posted on November 7, 2009 at 8:00am — 5 Comments

Salvatore Buttaci

AN ONOFRIO BY ANY OTHER NAME

When my cousin’s wife was pregnant with her first child, a boy, I asked Antonio what they would name the baby. As Sicilian Americans whose four parents all had their roots in the same Sicilian village, ’Tonio and I were well versed in the customs and traditions of our ancestors. One of them, which tenaciously survived thirteen invaders of Sicily since the attacks of the dye-hard Phoenicians, had to do with the naming of one’s children: the first son would bear the name of the husband’s father, t… Continue

Posted on October 23, 2009 at 3:32pm — 6 Comments

Salvatore Buttaci

LITTLE SWEETIE

Though only three, Marci knew her mind. In fact, she knew her mother’s mind as well: jumping up and down, screaming “I want, I want, I want,” crying her pretty blues eyes out, always getting what she wanted.

“Mommy will buy you that doll next time we come shopping here, Marci,” said Mommy doing her best to straighten out Marci who sat in the top seat of the WalMart cart, throwing her head back and whining loud enough to wake the sleeping doll her daughter insisted she buy. “All right, all right… Continue

Posted on October 20, 2009 at 9:00am — 8 Comments

Salvatore Buttaci

SIX EPITAPHS

1

Here lies the widow Roodle
Buried with her poodle.
It was her fond request:
“I need the rest.
My husband snores.”


2

Under this crabgrass
Considered quite fitting
Lies a real crab ass
Named Jonathan Whitting.

3

Here lies Al Capone
Who liked to break bones
After all that
He’s buried with his bat

4

Blaze Star
Burlesque queen
Lies below
Strip-teased

5

Haystack Calhoun
Takes two spaces
Under the mat

6

Here in repose
Lies Pete Rose
He gambled
And lost

#

Posted on October 19, 2009 at 10:00pm — 6 Comments

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At 1:50am on October 21, 2009, mal said…
Many thanks Sal , for all your great creative & supportive comments,& if I end up half the writer that you are , I will be very happy , Take Care , Mal,...
At 10:58am on October 9, 2009, Jeanette Cheezum said…
Is your publisher going to release this before the years out?
At 9:16am on October 9, 2009, Jeanette Cheezum said…
Flashing My Shorts. Sal, I love that title.
At 11:39pm on October 8, 2009, Jeanette Cheezum said…
Hello Sal,
I read your Brothers of the Clothes on Full of Crow.
Great piece--I loved the dry eye syndrome and the artifical tears--rings true at my house.
At 2:07am on July 5, 2009, Smriti said…
thanks a lot, i do am enjoying it here. :)
At 7:09am on June 29, 2009, Sugar said…
Thank you so much for the comments, Sal. You made my day!!:)
At 10:28pm on May 30, 2009, Toby Tucker Hecht said…
Nice picture!
At 12:30pm on May 30, 2009, Toby Tucker Hecht said…
To change or add a picture, look under the 6S logo on the left side of your own page and there should be something about changing theme or profile or picture. If you click on that, there should be a way of uploading a picture file to 6S. If you don't like it you can change it as many times as you like until you find something you want to represent you.
At 12:39pm on April 29, 2009, mike whitney said…
Grammie and me about five years ago:

At 6:44pm on April 18, 2009, Olive Rosehips said…
You are especially witty today! I enjoyed your little poems.
 
 

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