A smooth take off and an ascent to cruising altitude set the stewardesses at work. The plane felt stuffier than usual. He was in the middle, his favorite location. He’d been at the front, not first class, but right at that front row, with all that legroom. It just didn’t suit him. He wanted to be appropriately uncomfortable, a badge of honor, a shared suffering. So here he was, middle of the plane, middle of the row. Priest to his right, old woman holding a Pomeranian on his left. He felt like he was living inside a not-that-funny-gotta-laugh-to-be-polite joke that he couldn’t remember the punch line for.
Category: All Stories
Gary Glitter And The Camel Hair Coat by Hugh Cron Warning- Adult Content
Lee and Harry stood outside their manager’s office. She glowered at them. The music from the communal room was deafening.
“Jesus fuck! Am I not in enough trouble? That’s all I need, Tom and his Gary Glitter infatuation!”
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The Duke’s Black Bag by Tom Sheehan
Just pronounced ex-Navy and having breakfast in a small diner in Idaho, road dust claiming him as much as it did his old Ford convertible gracing the parking lot like an abused antique, he met Maybelle Hustings slinging homemade hash, the air full of morning’s riches. She was tall, neat in her apron for a hash house waitress, wore her hair pinned back severely yet evoking promise in its loosing. Corded movements in her neck, supple and graceful but fully pronounced as a woman’s, brought him early hungers, caught him leaning in the booth. Their eyes locked, gave out announcements, were decoded, and then, so as not to embarrass the other, were allowed to wander. Initial signals had been made, and illustrated; acceptance, of some order, duly noted.
Literally Reruns – Stumpy by Diane M Dickson
Lovely Leila has chosen one from my back catalogue for a rerun. It’s a bit sad and brutal but – there ya go. This is what she said:
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Notes on Calling Time by Stefan Slater

To this dying man whom the wolf already scents
And whom the crow watches.
Baudelaire, Flowers of Evil
Mother’s Day by Frederick K Foote
The weather was the culprit. Thunderstorms stranded Ella’s date in Boston. Flooding in South Carolina kept her son’s girlfriend in Charleston. Ella’s planned evening of formal dress, fine dining, forgettable speeches, and priceless facetime with clients and potential clients was a must-attend event.
Margaret by Matthew Hernandez
It was late afternoon when Margaret’s doctor told us that her condition was deteriorating, that it was time to talk options. Mom sat closest to Margaret’s bedside, with her back to the window. Dad and I hunched forward in taupe, plastic chairs positioned around the foot of the bed. Margaret’s doctor stood in his white lab coat opposite Mom, a clipboard resting on his waist.
The Viaduct by Hugh Cron – Warning – Strong Language
Fergie left early again. He was fed up with the self-acclaimed King Of The Pub. He was a cunt. He was a pumped up insignificant prick who walked about as if he’d shit himself. And the clothes, fuck the boy thought he was a gangster rapper, he was nothing more than a nipple-end with some ‘roid rage.
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Literally Reruns – All Saints Day by Tobias Haglund
Ah yes – Leila has picked one from the far back corner of the catacombs – We miss Tobias so this is a lovely little reminder of his skill:
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Week 282 – Genre Before Character Or Plot, An Asterix For Adam And Irony From Not Being There
Maybe it’s just me and my limitations but I was wondering how many writers choose a genre before they start to write?
