Streaming services kill our multiplex. The multiplex my sister and I went to Friday nights, as regular as anything. They don’t say it outright, but I know Fridays, Saturdays, Mondays even, people are hiding behind the glow of screens, including some of my own friends. They sink into names like HBO, Netflix, Amazon Prime, contrivances with big letters and feigned cleverness.
Continue reading “Rewind by Yash Seyedbagheri”
My eyes snap open and in that instant, I’m battered by the three-punch combo of a massive hangover, Rosie pounding on my door, and three more dead on my ledger. The hangover will sort itself eventually, the dead are dead, but Rosie will beat the damn door down if I don’t answer. She’s stubborn as hell, is Rosie, and dangerous strong for a female.
Continue reading “Sonny’s Shadow by Marco Etheridge”
Leila has finished her run of women writers with this one – aw shucks – blushes furiously:
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – The Cave by Diane M. Dickson”
There were eight candles on my birthday cake the year my sledgehammer mother shattered us like we were blown glass. I remember it specifically because when the ninth candle flickered at the last minute, I thought, with the force of gale force winds, oh, extra candle for good luck, please don’t go out on me.
Continue reading “Bones by Jennifer Walkup”
“One day,” Ed LeBlanc said, up to his crotch in the swiftly flowing Pine River near Ossipee, New Hampshire, rod tip high, a bright Macintosh apple half eaten in his left hand, his words more oath than wisdom, “we’re going fly fishing in Curt Gowdy country.” He said little else that morning, intent on the merest sensations electric at fingertips, on early May temperature of water laying heavy tongue on our boots, on the Mac’s sweet taste, on delicious silence falling on our heads as if the world was a mushroom and we under that still cap.
Continue reading “A Psalm for Eddie by Tom Sheehan”
They push, push, push me, like that horrid boss in the Twilight Zone episode about Willoughby. The one with the poor ad executive. He’s a moneymaker, not a shape, a human form. I don’t blame him for jumping off a train, hallucinating about a dream community.
Continue reading “Push, Push, Push by Yash Seyedbagheri”
Prefatory Remarks
Defining the Tippleganger:
The Spirit half of this little drama
Has a second bottle of wine ever convinced you to cut your own hair? Did that darn vodka make you “overshare” sex fantasies you have about your sister’s husband with a mutual friend who cannot keep a secret? How much Budweiser does it take to get you to call your ex at three a.m.?–in spite of what it says about that sort of thing in the restraining order.
Continue reading “Tippleganger and Dozzle: A Feeble Fable of the Fantasmagorical by Leila Allison”
I’m in the changing room of a high-end boutique when Oscar calls me back.
‘What’s up?’ he says. He is at home. I can hear the whir of the washing machine behind his voice.
‘I’m trying on a dress.’ It is red with white polka dots and hangs just below my knees.
‘You never wear dresses.’
Continue reading “A Controlled Moment of Light by Jo Robson”
Now that Leila is an integral part of the LS team she has taken to sleeping in the cellars of LS Towers. We hear her while we are upstairs having an end of the week drink. Muttering as she moves through the stacks. It’s okay we don’t mind. She brings out stuff like this.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns – Car Crash Television by Nik Eveleigh.”
Tommy owned an ‘all you can drink’ restaurant. For one dollar, you could imbibe all night; beer, wine, mixed drinks or straight liquor, it made no difference. That was the hook. His buffet was expensive for the quality of food served, but profits have to come from somewhere. Tommy’s was alive, crowded and happening. It was not a date night destination. If you expected a quiet, romantic dinner, you had a better chance at McDonald’s.
Continue reading “Tuesdays at Tommy’s by Ed McConnell”
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