In this, Brodsky's first book of short fictions, you're likely to find yourself in absurdity's line of fire, the ammo consisting of an insurance agent, adept at selling policies covering impregnation by aliens; a milquetoast husband, whose nagging wife communicates with him via Post-it Note commands; a quarter-ton Jujyfruits addict, who receives direct-from-the-factory shipments of his sole source of sustenance; a family man, who abruptly leaves his wife and kids, then returns, just as abruptly, two decades later, ready for dinner; and a ravenous traveler, overcome by the Tex-Mex mystique of a Missouri hotel restaurant, whose mascot is a three-foot-long iguana. In addition, you'll be shot through by the armor-piercing language and ballistic behavior of a South St. Louis auto-factory-assembly-line worker, a man's man, who appreciates the finer things in life: brewskies and pigskin action. Beware! Yellow Bricks is a shooting-gallery full of fictional hot lead.