Jimmy Doom's Roulette Weal

Jimmy Doom's Roulette Weal

Share this post

Jimmy Doom's Roulette Weal
Jimmy Doom's Roulette Weal
Feedback

Feedback

Unmarked Exits

Jimmy Doom's avatar
Jimmy Doom
May 22, 2023
∙ Paid
16

Share this post

Jimmy Doom's Roulette Weal
Jimmy Doom's Roulette Weal
Feedback
3
Share

crowd of people during nighttime
Photo by Quaid Lagan on Unsplash

Jimmy Doom's Roulette Weal is a reader-supported publication and the largest short fiction collection on Substack or anywhere else. Unlock the archive and your summer reading list is right here.

Was it a vibe?

One supposes it could be called that.

An attitude?

Sure.

Laissez-Faire? 

Certainly.

But Burnsicle worked.

Gizzy played his guitar without a B-string, Brandon had his bass rig louder than everyone might have liked, Torch had this strange old sparkly swing band drum kit with a trash-picked snare that sounded like he was hitting a corned beef sandwich and Moore wrote lyrics about whatever he wanted.

Mostly they were verses that were angry at the state of the world, or obtuse but fit the rhythm of the music or homages to obscure literary characters.

Burnsicle practiced in a basement of a house that Gizzy rented from his boss at Wagner-Kemp Tool, and drank beer mostly from a settlement Brandon had won from being in an elementary school bus that got hit by a drunk driver, leaving him with a facial scar so small that chickenpox would mock it. 

Keep reading with a 7-day free trial

Subscribe to Jimmy Doom's Roulette Weal to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.

Already a paid subscriber? Sign in
© 2025 James K. Graham
Privacy ∙ Terms ∙ Collection notice
Start writingGet the app
Substack is the home for great culture

Share