Friday, July 07, 2017


Denver is home to the funky and often edgy FBomb Reading Series. Here's how the FBomb folks describe themselves:

The FBOMB (Flash-Bomb) Reading Series is Denver’s only flash fiction reading series! Started in 2013 by Nancy Stohlman, The FBomb is a monthly flash fiction reading series with rotating guest hosts and featured performers, as well as (limited) open mic slots. A beautiful blend of amateur and professional set in the quirky Mercury Cafe.

The mission of the Fbomb is to 1: become better readers of our work; 2: become better promoters of ourselves and each other; 3: share the spotlight with one another, and 4: build community around flash fiction.

We do this through: rotating hosts, a balance of features and open mic, and a commitment to a welcoming, supportive atmosphere for all regardless of experience.

Flash Fiction: complete stories under 1000 words.

If you’re flash-curious, come on down and see what all the fuss is about! Open mic slots are first come first served and are limited to 3-4 mins–the length of one flash piece.

For more info contact Nancy Stohlman at

7:30 pm at The Mercury Cafe, 2199 California Street.

Gabino Iglesias and Manuel Ramos
The June FBomb featured Gabino Iglesias, who read from his highly regarded underground novel Zero Saints, along with several straight-from-the-street readers who kept the joint jumping.  That was quite a night of frenzy, noir, irony, pathos, poetry, story. 

I'm pleased to mention that I will be the featured reader at the FBomb scheduled for July 18. To get the pump primed, here are a few ficción rápida pieces that I dug up from various files -- some have shown up previously on La Bloga.

Stop by the Mercury on July 18. Enjoy a tofu burrito, if you're into that, along with your favorite adult beverage. Then brace yourself as the FBombs fly like Wizard of Oz monkeys, bouncing off rafters and hippie curtains, presented by a hodgepodge of writers, performers and outlaws. 

© Manuel Ramos -- all rights reserved


Olga forgot the reason she left the house as soon as she crossed the street. Wayne worried later that night but she had been mad at him when he went to work and he guessed she was staying at her bitch sister’s place, paying him back.

Olga slept in the park and then in an alley and then it didn’t matter where she slept.

A year later, as she sprawled on the sidewalk, Wayne almost stepped on Olga but he didn’t recognize her. She still couldn’t remember why she left the house.

Saturday Afternoon

“One more beer for me and my friend here.”

“I told you, I ain’t your friend and I don’t want your beer.”

“What a joker. Why you acting like this? Let me get the next round.”

“You keep messin’ with me and I’m gonna hurt you.”

“You drink this beer or I’ll cut you again.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about. You can’t handle it. You get mean. Hell. Give me the beer.”


Flash finished his latest masterpiece with a final puff of yellow. He took a deep breath. Paint fumes and downtown smells filled his lungs. He wanted to say that he had created a fantasy of love and rebellion on the warehouse wall but there was no one to say it to. He added his tag. This is good, he thought. I nailed it.

He packed up his spray cans and rags.

Flash walked away from the wall and his painting. A tune popped in his head and he whistled. What song was that?

He realized he was hungry. He had been at it for more than three hours. Endings made him sad.

He sprayed paint into a rag and covered his nose.

Honesty is the Best Policy

I didn’t love her. I made that clear from the jump. For me it was all about the sex. For her too, when she was honest. That first night, after we left the bar and she asked me to walk her home, we clawed and bit at each other like hungry tigers. We liked it so much I stayed in her apartment for a week. We humped, bumped, and jumped in those three rooms without caring what we broke or where we landed. We ordered pizza or noodle bowls when our energy lagged. I lost my job, my room at the motel, and the junk I kept there, but we didn’t care. We were sexed up and high on lovemaking fumes.

The morning she told me not to come back I shrugged. “Yeah, sure, whatever.” It was all about the sex.

I punched the fence around the corner from her place and broke a finger. When the doc asked me what happened, I said, “Rough sex.”


Manuel Ramos is the author of several novels, short stories, poems, and non-fiction books and articles. His collection of short stories, The Skull of Pancho Villa and Other Stories, was a finalist for the 2016 Colorado Book Award. My Bad: A Mile High Noir was published by Arte Público Press in 2016 and is a finalist for the Shamus Award in the Original Paperback category sponsored by the Private Eye Writers of America.

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