I am here. I am here. I. Am. Here.
Company of Angels, Company of Men by Tom Sheehan
With eight hundred miles of road under my butt in the last three days, my blood sugar barely holding the line, a couple of old wounds still talking sass to me, whatever else was bugging me besides my errand, fell off the face of the Earth when Disher Menkin’s wife Elsie, the new widow, still somewhat of a knockout though she’d collected some flesh under her chin she’d never try to hide, a few other imperfections lost in a surprisingly good figure, hardly ever taciturn at best, said, “Where the hell have you been, Coop, when we needed you most?”
Literally Reruns – Swan River Daisy by Tom Sheehan
Ms Allison has revisited an old story by one of the site’s most prolific writers and we think it’s wonderful to see this having a new crack of the whip. Swan River Daisy is the story that she has pulled from the dusty archives and this is what she said.
Week 200 – Four Years And Still Here!!
As this is our Four Year Celebration, we will do the reviews first and then we have a wee spiel each for your entertainment and enlightenment. That’ll cover Diane and Nik, I’ll just write my usual pish!
Amy by Darren Nuzzo and Toddy Smith
There’s a naked picture of myself in a pink envelope in my pocket. And there’s good reason to send it to an eighth grader in New Jersey.
Boundaries by Fernando Meisenhalter
Her name is Kristy or Kristal or Kelly, I’m not sure which, so I just call her sweetheart and babe and she never seems to mind. She’s too busy talking about her ex-boyfriend anyway, a guy who’s still her boss at work.
Glooning the Chartreuse Lemon by Leila Allison
A Few Rings of Hell’s Bell Ago
The little god of unfounded happiness at an unlikely place seemed to be smiling on me. I was up 500,000 bit-pesos at the online Uruguayan poker site, and someone had finally restocked the Snax Machine in the lobby with chili-cheese Fritos. Yes, the good guys were winning, and no one was supervising my activities. I fondly recall whistling “Dance Ten; Looks Three” from A Chorus Line, prior to carb-loading for that long elevator ride back to my office, deep in the bowels of the Smiling Face of Darkness.
