A woman attends the funeral of the man who told her not to marry his son.

(from Zoetrope All-Story, Spring, 2005)

That’s a fine title, but might I also suggest “Do The Wrong Thing”? The battle between desire and morality is mostly what forces the action in this story. Aside from a few colorful metaphors, this is a plainspoken story, telling only the telling details and leaving the reader to wonder about some of the pointless details. I mean, didn’t she know anybody else in her old hometown? Not important, of course.
Okay, you know what? This one line bugged me. Jean meets an older lady in a fur coat at the funeral. She notes that the woman has a familiar smell, is wearing too much make-up and has extraordinarily white teeth. Then comes this:

Is toilet water some euphemism I’m not familiar with? Some lavendar smelling liquor, maybe? Because I know it only as the water in a toilet, which sort of makes that line crazy. Or perhaps Jean has heightened olfactory senses, although she never comes right out and says she does. If the onset of heightened olfactory senses is a new development, it’s possible Jean is turning into a werewolf, which would suit her well, since such creatures are not muzzled by morality conflicts.

A hotel guest lures a bellboy to his demise, just another day in the life of a drag queen mass murderer.

(from Little Men)

You’d think from the description this story would be some kinda thrillride, but it’s just sorta dark and plodding. This story is pretty inventive, but the language is cumbersome and over-explanatory.
Here is some other stuff by this author.

Billy and Jason are both six years old. One’s a scientist and the other’s a dreamer.

(from Short People)

Really what grabs you about this story is the author’s ability to describe the children’s feelings , observations and habits without making them seem too childish. It’s pretty remarkable the credit the unseen narrator gives the characters while never letting you forget these are just silly little kids. Their personalities are distinct, and recognizeable without straying into the archectypal. A fun read. Here’s a line I like: “The neighborhood reeks of bad science.”
Flipping through, it looks like all of these stories are about kids, which could get old.

The author/narrator receives a mysterious package intended for somebody at a seemingly non-existent address.

(from McSweeney’s Enchanted Chamber of Astonishing Stories)

The story is slowly unveiled via excerpts from files and letters written by a mysterious organization tracking something. But what? I’m not going to spoil it. This is well-paced and stunningly original. Seriously. It takes a common phenomenon and effs with it. And it’s effin with you.

This author is so cool, he’s apparently got an unofficial homepage.

When her grandson goes missing, Barbara comes back to see her daughter.

(from One Story, issue number 52)

A sharp and touching story told through my favorite perspective: The Unreliable Narrator. I like how the vivid is presented alongside the blurry. Some things you are told, and others you sort of work out. Nice.

This marks my first entry from One Story, which will send me a new story every three weeks or so. $21 buys you 18 issues. Each story comes individually, in the form of a little booklet. It’s neato. So is Maura K. Johnston, who tipped me off to it.

One Story has a Q&A with Leigh Newman here.

Eccentric, Old-Worldy Uncle Morty comes to stay with his nephew and nephew’s girlfriend in New York.

(from Gates of Eden, smuggled from the Godfrey-Lowenthal compound)

Eh. Morty is one of those people you’d say is “quite a character” in real life, but here, in the world of short fiction, and here, where somebody reads a short story every day, he’s not much of a character at all. Still, it’s an entertaining little story.
Little was key when it came time to choose a short story. I am stressed and pressed with work stuff, so I chose a tiny, tiny piece. Other, more lengthy stories from this book would possibly have made better reading, but better can’t make your life better. Sorry, Mr. Coen. After all the great movies you’ve made, it turns out I couldn’t even give you the time of day. Perhaps I will revisit your collection later.