3 stories

illustrations by eddie el greco

murder by meredith cartwright marcia told her mother she was going out to meet her new boy friend at arby’s roast beef. marcia’s mother wanted her to go out and meet fellows. she wanted marcia to get married so that she could get rid of her. marcia did not really have a boy friend at arby’s roast beef or anywhere else. she went to the library. she finished a book she had been reading about mary queen of scots. then she started another book, about edward viii and wallis simpson. she enjoyed it so much she was tempted to check it out and take it home with her when the library closed. but she was afraid her mother would see it and start asking questions. she decided to come back in the morning and check the book out. she left the book on the table in the reading room - as the signs in the library instructed - and left the library. marcia never got to finish the book about edward viii and mrs simpson. nor was she ever seen alive again. her mutilated body was discovered the next day in the patch of woods behind the parking lot of costco’s. the police questioned marcia’s mother and she immediately told them about the boy friend. she couldn’t remember his name - johnny miller or jimmy maxwell or some name like that. the police were not able to find any trace of johnny miller or jimmy maxwell. marcia’s murder was never solved. *

no by nick nelson noreen was one of the five people left on earth after the great disaster. she was walking along admiring the green sunset and eating a 36-ounce hershey bar she had found in a supermarket, when she saw the other four survivors - ollie, priscilla, rick, and sten - coming up the road. she did not like their looks. when they reached her, ollie began making a long rambling speech about how they all had to pull together. he placed particular emphasis on the fact that noreen would be expected to have sex with rick, sten, and himself in order to “repopulate the planet”. “i can’t carry the whole load,” priscilla added. “no,” noreen told them, “i don’t think i really think i want to do that. i would prefer to go my own way.” ollie, priscilla, and rick began to berate her, but sten, who appeared to be the real leader of the group, interrupted them. “if she’s not on board, we might as well let her go,” he told them. as noreen continued on her way, she heard priscilla say, “maybe we could have eaten her.” the others laughed. one of the men said, “what would we cut her up and cook her with?” and they all laughed again. night fell. noreen kept walking. in the distance she heard the howl of a dog, or a wolf. *

orangutan by corinne delmonico opal was a curious child, always asking questions. her mom suspected that opal made up questions just to be annoying. questions like, “why do people talk and eat with their mouths - wouldn’t it make more sense to have a separate thing for each, so you could do both at once?” “they just do,” was the best mom could come up with. or, “why is los angeles bigger than san diego?” “it just is.” or, “what’s the difference between a monkey and an orangutan?” “i don’t know.” “you don’t know? that was an easy one. if you can’t even answer an easy one like that…” opal sulked. mom looked out the window. it was a gray day. “i tell you what,” mom told opal, “let’s go to the zoo. maybe they have a monkey and an orangutan and you can see the difference for yourself.” “can we afford it?” “it was free the last i heard.” “can i get something to eat?” “sure. there might be somebody selling hot dogs or ice cream in the vicinity.” they put their coats on and got on the bus and went to the zoo. a young woman was selling tofu sausages from a cart a block before they got to the zoo, and mom bought opal one, and a bottle of water for herself. when they got to the zoo they saw another young woman in a uniform who looked like a guide, and they asked where the orangutan was. the guide gave opal a big smile, and asked her why she wanted to see the orangutan. “she is an orangutan,” mom told her. “i’m just bringing her back.” the young woman was not amused, and showed it. “what an awful thing to say to a child!” she blurted out. “oh, fuck you!” mom grabbed opal’s hand and they entered the zoo grounds without getting directions to the orangutan. they saw a sign that said “reptiles”. “we should be looking for the primates,” opal told mom. “that little bitch ruined my day,” mom fumed. “this whole world is fucked up. nobody has any sense of humor anymore.” “we can just look around,” opal said. “there must be something interesting here.” *

6 more stories by 6 more authors

illustrations by penmarq studios

gimmick by nick nelson gideon was the night manager of an all night takeout restaurant. sometimes he filled in at one of the chain’s other locations, if the manager there was sick or on vacation. gideon was not rich, young, or good-looking. he was not particularly sensitive. he did not understand women. he was not a great lover. or much of a lover at all. his hair wasn’t curly, and his teeth weren’t pearly white. but he wanted a girl friend. he sometimes spent as much as an hour a day - two hours on days he did not get much sleep - thinking about having a girl friend. one night, around four in the morning, he was cleaning up and he found a magazine a customer had left behind. the back cover of the magazine had an advertisement, in black and white, not very clearly printed, illustrated only with a crude drawing of a young woman’s face. the advertisement offered - “girl friends - no strings attached - $500 - any race, creed or nationality”. gideon read the small print. it did not have much to add. except that the girl friends were “guaranteed” for five years - and the customer only had to fill out the form indicating race, creed, nationality and a choice of four age groups - with a total range of 18 years to 80 years - and enclose a check or money order for the $500 and the “guaranteed” girl friend would arrive in three to seven weeks. gideon stood in the empty restaurant with the magazine in his hand. it seemed too good to be true. there had to be some kind of gimmick. outside in the distance a lonesome train whistle blew. *

honeymoon by c c courlander heath and iris were on their honeymoon. they were the cutest couple anybody had ever seen. janice, katherine, lulu, and marcia watched heath and iris from the other side of the coffee shop in the hotel. they all agreed that they were the cutest, sweetest-looking couple they had ever seen. “for now,” added janice. “oh no,“ katherine disagreed. “they are each other’s forever - i can just see it.” “how long do you give them?” asked lulu. “get a world almanac,” said marcia. “look up the average time people stay married, and that will be your best bet.” “that’s an awful thing to say,” katherine protested. “i give them a lot less than that, “ said lulu. “he’s too cute. he’ll be chasing other women in six months.” “he’s probably got something on the side right now,” janice added. “you guys are awful,” katherine responded dutifully. “i’ll tell you what else,” janice announced. “i bet he ends up murdering her. there is just something about him, pretty as he is.” katherine just laughed. “you are just trying to yank my chain. you and your predictions.” “yes, o swami,” lulu asked janice. “what’s the lottery number tonight?” they had all been keeping their eyes sideways on the young couple while they talked. now they noticed that heath’s voice had risen - they could not actually hear what he said - and his face had turned a little red. and iris started to cry. suddenly the waitress appeared. “are you ladies ready to order?” *

imbroglio by corinne delmonico imogen was sent home early from school. she banged the door to her room when she got home. mom took her time paying attention to her. “what did you do this time?” she asked when she finally arrived. “i was in an imbroglio,” imogen answered sulkily. “an imbroglio! that’s a new one. ha, ha!” “that’s what ms fisher called it.” “well at least you learned a new word. who was the imbroglio with?” “celia collins.” “you mean that fat girl you and your friends are always picking on? for christ’s sake, can’t you just leave her alone?” “she’s a loser! she asks for it! and joanie and linda were giving her more grief than i was! and they didn’t get sent home! it’s not fair” “so how come they sent you home?’ “because blubberbutt decided she wanted to fight me, don’t ask me why.” “if you just left her alone, you wouldn’t have these tragedies.” “it’s not fair!” “well, it’s probably not the most unfair thing that will ever happen to you. i have to get to work. there’s some salad in the refrigerator.” *

jump by roberta mason cleary jonas was reading the newspaper when laura came down to breakfast. she looked even more unkempt than she had the morning before, despite the sound beating he had been compelled to administer to her last night. jonas sighed. he had a dinner to attend that night, so he decided he would let laura’s defiant behavior go until tomorrow at least. actually, things had gone far enough, and some sort of drastic action on his part would be required. when he had so much else on his plate. laura did not sit down, but went over and stood in front of the open window,. it was a beautiful spring day. “i’m going to jump out the window,” laura announced. “yes, of course you are.” jonas did not look up from the paper. “i mean it this time.” “i see that some other tinfoil hat organization is calling for the end of fossil fuels.” “i really mean it.” “and that somebody with an unpronounceable name has demanded - yet again - that poor old henry kissinger be tried for war crimes.” “you’ll be sorry when the police get here . and start asking questions.” “and that miley cyrus has a new haircut.” “there are no secrets any more,” laura intoned. “everybody gets found out.” a tiny brown bird landed on the windowsill. “the price of gold is holding steady.” jonas turned the page of the neatly folded paper with an authoritative snap. “despite the latest warnings of the cassandras.” “it’s the new age.” “you are right about that at least. sit down and eat your grapefruit.” *

killer by roy dismas “kenny, this is bullshit. i thought you outgrew this.” “dad, i have to follow my dream.” kenneth sr stared at his laptop where the message from the high school had popped up. the message that informed him that kenneth jr had submitted on a questionnaire about his career plans that he wanted to be a hired killer. the message took the tone that it was a joke in poor taste but one that they felt had to be reported. but ken senior knew better. ken junior had been indulging - and talking about - his fantasy since he was in little league. “we’ve been over this before. even if - if - we space past the legal - and moral - implications of being a hired killer, can i not get it through your head that hit men like you see in the movies and on tv do not exist. they don’t exist any more than zombies or vampires exist.” “of course they do. and if it's morals you are worried about, i could specialize in killing bad people, like child molesters.” “i am not saying there are not guys out there who will kill for money and make themselves available to kill for money. to make a little extra money. but there is nobody out there - no independent operators, not soldiers in some mafia - doing it as a full time job - like being a doctor or a lawyer or selling real estate - and making big bucks. think about it. how many people would they have to kill? one a week? one a month? the bodies would pile up pretty quickly. even one a month would add up to more than anything on record.” “the good ones are too smart to get caught.“ ken senior sighed. he looked out the window at the peaceful suburban night. “and how, i ask you, are you going to break into this lucrative field? put signs up on telephone poles?” “i’ll figure something out. it’s my dream. you should be supportive of my dream.” “look - as far as school - or applications for college - can’t you just say something like you want to be a green beret or an army ranger or some shit like that. it’s close enough.” “i have to be true to my self. i can’t live a lie.” ken senior rubbed his eyes. i need a drink, he thought. “all right, we’ll talk about this later.” ken junior got up and left the room. he closed the door quietly behind him. ken senior got up and went over to the window and looked out. at least he’s not gay, he thought. and that stuff about killing child molesters - it showed he had a good heart. *

lucky by chuck leary larry lennon was almost fifty years old and nothing very bad had ever happened to him. probably the worst thing was having to give up smoking when his fellow humans - including his two daughters - became so militantly opposed to it. larry realized how lucky he was. i must be the luckiest person who ever lived, he thought as he sat reading in his den one night. he decided to go for a walk. he marked his place in the book he was reading - a biography of general george s patton - and put it on the arm of his easy chair. he went outside. it was a pleasant autumn night. it would be perfect if i could smoke my pipe, he thought , but you can’t have everything. he was almost to washington street when he heard a squeal of tires behind him. “that’s him!” he heard a shout. “that’s the guy!” five young hoods - mickey, nicky, ozzie, pete, and ronnie - piled out of an open convertible and knocked larry to the sidewalk and started kicking the shit out of him. they pounded his ass but good! “fucker!” “asshole!” they gave him what they called “the special” and left him bleeding and half dead on the sidewalk. “that’s enough!” mickey, the leader, cried. “let’s go!” pete gave larry one last kick in the ribs and they took off. when they got back to their hangout at sammy’s pizza they laughed their asses off. only ronnie wasn’t laughing quite as hard. “are you sure that was the guy?” he asked mickey. mickey’s mouth was full of thick crust and cheese and pepperoni but nicky answered for him. “sure it was the guy.” “don’t worry about it,” ozzie added. “it was fun, wasn’t it? that’s what counts.” “i don’t know,” ronnie answered half-heartedly. “i still think it might not have been the guy.” “you think too much,” pete told him. “you’ll have a heart attack when you’re twenty-one.” “but if it wasn’t him, “ ronnie persisted. “that means the real guy is still out there.” “that’s good,” said mickey, “because then we can find him and have some more fun kicking his ass too.” *

6 stories by 6 authors

illustrations by palomine studios

apples by a b chenille joe was a regular guy like you and me. one morning he woke up and he had been turned into an apple pie! holy shit, thought joe, i’ve turned into an apple pie! what do i do now? joe was pondering his fate when the door opened and his buddies jack, hal, and steve came in. “where’s joe?” asked jack curiously. “i don’t know,” hal replied offhandedly, “ but that pie sure looks good.” “think joe would care if we ate some of it?” steve asked dubiously. “fuck him, ” said jack, “if he didn’t want us to eat it he shouldn’t have left it out like that.” “that’s right,” hal agreed eagerly. “if he didn’t want us to eat it he should have put it in the refrigerator.” “speaking of the refrigerator,” esponded steve, “ let’s see if there’s any beer in it.” hal and jack agreed wholeheartedly, and they began eating the pie and drinking the beer. “this is pretty good,” said jack with a loud belch. “too bad joe isn’t here to enjoy it.” “i hope he doesn’t get too mad.” said steve. “but if he does the three of us together ought to be able to kick his ass.” those are friends for you. they never suspected that the pie was joe! ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! *

banana by bart driscoll mike was just a guy. he could be kind of a pussy sometimes, but who isn’t these days? one day he woke up and he had been turned into a banana! what the fuck! who wants to be turned into a banana? then the door opened and michelle waked in. she lived across the hall. she was not exactly mike’s girl friend though she could act halfway civilized sometimes but mostly she was a real ballbuster. “mike are you in here? the door was unlocked so i just walked in,” she announced in that way she had. then she saw the banana lying on the couch in front of the tv. not knowing it was mike, she picked it up and began flipping it up and down in her hand. when she could not find mike - because she did not realize the banana was mike - she went back to her own apartment, taking the banana with her. i bet you thought there was more, but that is all there is. *

crybaby by corinne delmonico constance and darius were married, nobody was sure why. darius was not sure himself. curiosity about women, maybe? he was not really that curious about women, or about much of anything else either. and even if he was, how could he be sure constance was a typical woman? constance had married darius because she liked the big old house he had inherited from his grandparents. she especially like the high ceilinged library and conservatory, where she could spend her days reading the novels of anya seton and frances parkington keyes and danielle steel. one cold rainy day constance was sitting in her favorite chair rereading dragonwyck by anya seton. darius was sitting on the sofa not too far from her, something he did not often dare to do. it was raining too hard for him to go outside and attend to his tomato and rhubarb plants. suddenly he started to cry. “what are you blubbering about?” constance demanded. “i’m just - i’m just so unhappy,” darius told her. “well, find something to be happy about. and get out of my sight, please, until you can turn off the waterworks.” “can’t you say something nice to me - just once?” “no.” without a word darius got up and left the room. outside in the rain a crow began cawing. *

ducks by nicoletta nelson doreen and her three sisters were feeding the ducks. their mother lurked nearby smoking a cigarette. doreen tossed a piece of bread in the direction of the ducks. “you’re doing it wrong, stupid,” alice told her. “yes, you are supposed to just drop it in the water, not throw it at them,” added bethany. “you don’t want to frighten the poor things,” smirked camille. then all three joined in a big screechy laugh at their own wit. doreen started to cry, which only increased their hilarity. mom dropped her butt and ground it out under her heel. “what are you all making so much noise about?” “they hate me!” doreen cried. “they hate me! why do they always pick on me?” “they are just having a little fun,” mom drawled. “but why? why do they hate me? i’m a nice person, or try to be. i’m not too ugly. i don’t smell bad.” “you’re boring and stupid, stupid,” said alice, and bethany and camille chortled. doreen appealed to her mother again. “why are they mean to me?’ “it’s just the way people are. they have to be mean to somebody. get over it.” “i’m going to run away!” doreen cried. “i'm going to run away and sell my soul to the devil!” “go for it,” mom told her, as she lit her tenth virginia slim of the day. doreen ran away from the pond. on the other side of the pond, the devil was sitting on a park bench. he took another lick of his strawberry ice cream cone and smiled. *

exposed by francis t flynn jr edward perkins was the most disgusting person on earth. he had managed to keep this a secret from the rest of the human race. one day edward woke up and made himself his usual cup of coffee with peanut butter in it. then he turned on his computer. on the news he read that a new device had been unveiled which could read the minds of all the humans and other primates and mammals in the world and that the contents of all their minds had been downloaded on to the cloud and could now be accessed by anybody. edward was horrified. he had no place to hide. in a panic he rushed into the hallway of his apartment building. donna dorsey, his next door neighbor, was standing outside her door weeping and wringing her hands. “what is the matter, ms dorsey?” edward asked. “oh - oh - i am the most evil person on earth and now everybody will know it!” she wailed. suddenly the door to buck jackson’s apartment burst open, and buck stood before them, wild-eyed. “i’m the most fucked-up person on earth and now everybody knows it,” he stated simply, shaking his head. edward could hear doors opening and people shouting through the whole building. what new horrors were to be revealed? *

funny by h desrollers felipe and gary were sitting on a park bench near grants tomb. a woman with a big ass walked by. they both watched her and her ass until she was out of sight. “you know it’s funny,” said gary, “but with all the people in the world, there are exactly 50 percent men and 50 percent women. ever think about that?” “um - i don’t think that is exactly right,” felipe told him. “i read someplace it was more like 51 percent women and 49 percent men." “is that so?” gary looked puzzled and thought about felipe’s revelation. “then how come women don’t take over the world?” “i don’t know, man, they just don’t.” *

4 poems by 4 poets

illustrations by palomine studios and penmarq studios

a call to arms by rev. peter jackson sternwall oh once upon a time the earth was round and flags were firmly planted in the ground men gazed up at them in silent awe respected women, and obeyed the law they went to work and earned their honest pay and saved their hard-earned money day by day ready to go to war if it need be determined to keep their territory free what evil spirits could look down on this and sneeringly see ought amiss? what monsters of perdition could find joy in smashing such pure gold without alloy? yet these good men and true woke up one morn and wished that they had ne’er been born for all that they had built up with such trust lay shattered - scattered in the whirling dust now demons walked the once free land and taking little children by the hand laughed at the barren fields and empty homes of another empire fallen like troy and rome o inheritors of this new armageddon what shall you place your faith upon? must moloch laugh through all eternity or will you stand and cry “it shall not be!”

abby: a fragment by corinne delmonico abby drove the menfolk wild, knocked them off their feet and left a trail of stiffened dicks when she walked down the street they oohed and ached, they laughed and cheered as down the road her bod she steered abby had humungous boobs, and an even bigger ass the boys all crowded round her, and barely let her pass is this my life, the poor girl thought through winters cold, and summers hot to be a spectacle for louts who have no clue what life’s about good heavens! i would rather be a bird, a cloud, a rock, a tree a slice of toast with raspberry jam anything but what i am a wall for all to write upon but who will remember me when i’m gone? an angel heard poor abby’s cry and floating gently from the sky resolved to give her a small slice of everything that is true and nice a demon also heard her plaint and being all the angel ain’t thought abby needed to show some spunk and strike back at the loathsome punks …

mojo by horace p sternwall cats and dogs and toads and frogs and chickens and hogs and snakes and gators in bogs and barely visible bugs in intricately woven rugs all greet the dawn with their mojo on but as the day goes by their dreams shrivel up and die except for those hardy souls who have specific goals like taking two pieces of bread and covering them with jelly red and peanut butter autumnal brown and washing it all down with a glass of chocolate milk as smooth as cleopatran silk there is no more truth to yield because all has been revealed

dream by timothy t jones no keys no pants can’t get out the window