Author: ireneallison12

Editor Picks, General Fiction, Humour, Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 583: Mama Mama Please No More Step Dads

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Tomorrow is Mother’s Day in the U.S. of A. (In the UK and Ireland it was 15 March–a belated happy one to Diane and the rest of the Islanders), I am not a mother, but I had one and found her to be sufficient. She was the sort of Mother who would die for her children and often made this one wish she would do just that.

We are awfully unfair to our mothers. We either over praise them up to Mother Mary Poppins or we blame them for not just all the heinous shit we do but for all the heinous shit ever committed in history. Expecting mothers to maintain a higher standard than what we are willing to consider is one of humankind’s greatest failings. Still, objectivity is not something we associate with family members. But alack and alas, all in all, in the end, everything tabulated, I’m glad I got the mother I was stuck with (vice versa); I do not believe anyone else out there could have made me and–despite my plentiful laments on the subject of me–I am used to being the person I am, and I’ve never been one for wishing I was someone else.

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All Stories, Editor Picks, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Week 581- Have You Never Been Melodramatic

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I am not a cynical luddite, but I believe everyone ought to have a little oldfashionedness in her for the sake of maintaining a soul. Still, progress isn’t completely evil. It brings more good than bad in medicine (at least it does when you compare modern TB and smallpox statistics to the way things were a hundred years ago). But I’m also convinced that as an animal, one whose evolution is influenced by long-term realities, we are not wholly prepared to accept sudden changes. Moreover, being small we are overwhelmed by reasons to feel worthless and dumb; and when it becomes clear that a ten-year-old can do more with our phones than we can, let’s just say it is not good for the self esteem. (Then again I can drive a stick and parallel park without an AI, so there you little Weaselings!)

For at least 99% of human history we lived the same way. It was hard to win a living from the soil and when we managed to light a fire with rocks and damp kindling and somehow outlasted another winter we felt like whatever the word for rock star was way back in the Middle Ages.

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Short Fiction

Auld Author: Dearest Friend: The Letters of John and Abigail Adams.

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Forget George and Martha, Bill and Hillary and even JFK and Jackie–and although Eleanor Roosevelt was a winner, there was a tremendous distance between her and FDR that was probably enhanced by policies rather than feeling. No, for me the most interesting relationship between a husband and wife who at one time occupied the White House was that of John (1735-1826) and Abigail Adams (1744-1818). They were married for fifty-four years (when such lengthy unions were common amongst people who managed to live long), and through their correspondences (which were required due to John having to serve the nation from afar) the reader is able to admire a loving relationship between two opposite personalities who met correctly on higher thoughts and had the admirable ability to like each other.

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All Stories, Editor Picks, Short Fiction

Week 579: Further Adventures in Urban Wildlife

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(Sir Andy Hisster)

Due to his departure to the green fields of the PAWS’ center located about a half hour north of here, this is the first spring in which Andy Hisster (The Gray fella above this paragraph) does not rule (in person) the courtyard of my building in what feels like ten years. My uncertainty of the year is because I can not remember the moment I meet any Feral Cat, they just appear, magically, and it feels as though they have always been.

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Literally Reruns, Short Fiction

Literally Reruns: Bingo by Hugh Cron

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Oh my oh my, after reading Bingo, I wondered what kind of father our beloved Hugh Cron would be. Actually, I think he would be an excellent parent because he would never bullshit his kids about Santa, organized religion or “The Farm” where pets go, mysteriously, all of a sudden while the child is in school. “Sparky decided he will be happy, there, at The Farm,” Papa said, wiping his eyes due to a sudden recurrence of his “allergies.”

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All Stories, Editor Picks, General Fiction, Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 577: Can’t Teach a Shark to Kill Tofu

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(Elliott the Header Pigeon is on vacation this week. PDQ Peety is filling in and is also  filling  himself with PDQ Pilsner.)

Introduction

I again found myself undertaking the idea of the End of Humankind. Which is not to be confused with the End of the World because that will happen a few billion years from now when the sun dies, at which time it will greatly expand and obliterate everything on out to Jupiter. Like the rabid cur shot dead by Atticus in To Kill a Mockingbird a dead sun is still a dangerous sun.

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Literally Reruns, Short Fiction

Literally Reruns: Artificial Love by L’Erin Ogle

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Of all the writers who have appeared on the site, L’Erin Ogle is the one whose name I most expect to turn up on the list of famous writers. She is not a commercial type of writer, but she is just plain so damn good that you’d think that even the doofs who control the money would notice her. But maybe it is for the best that she continues to make her way under her own control and at her own speed.

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Short Fiction

Writers Read – Travels With Charley – an essay by Leila

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Travels With Charley: In Search of America (1962)

By John Steinbeck

In late September 1960 John Steinbeck and a French Poodle named Charley loaded a vehicle called “Rocinante” with a sizable amount of liquor and went on a road trip to discover America. Two years later the account was published to wild success. I happened to find a copy (which I later gave to a friend) of a first edition of the book at the local St. Vincent de Paul Thrift Store about twenty-five years ago.

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Fantasy, Humour, Short Fiction

A Castle For the Roller Derby Queen

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(The image is of the actual Andy, who graciously posed)

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Charity and Baby Hope had been searching for the perfect place to build a castle. Magick Minion Andy had done some in person searches and returned with the best prospect, which he explained to Charity in his surprisingly good Wiccan. “Surprisingly good” because your basic Cat, although all are born understanding the Wiccan tongue, has a bit of difficulty speaking it due to some of the trickier elongated vowels. Whenever your basic Cat meets a difficulty that really is not his problem he ignores it, but Andy is not your basic Cat, even though he does somewhat closely resemble a heavily used mop head more than he does an immortal Magick Gray Tabby.

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