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.”
Continue reading “Literally Reruns: Bingo by Hugh Cron”
Week number 578 is here.
Another week gone, another week I thank my lucky stars for Literally Stories!! It keeps me sane!!
We’ve been getting a lot of humour submissions lately so I’d like to revisit this topic. I apologise if you have read something like this before.
Continue reading “Week 578 – Clock Hanging, Don’t Buy Balm And The Chief Is A Legend.”
Where to begin? ‘Where’ being the significant word.
Some places seem to have been created to be a home for the disconcerting and unknowable. Dartmoor was the natural petri dish for The Hound of the Baskervilles. It is so… elemental. The dirty, dark and narrow alleys of Victorian London’s East End spawned Brother Jack, whoever he was, or might still be. But other places are so mundane you can’t imagine anything beyond the norm happening there.
Continue reading “By The Colour of Our Coat Shall You Know Us By J.S. Watts”
(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.
Continue reading “Week 577: Can’t Teach a Shark to Kill Tofu”
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.
Continue reading “Literally Reruns: Artificial Love by L’Erin Ogle”
Hello there folks and folkessess. Here we go again and are at Week 576.
Before I start I need to warn you that there is a new virus doing the rounds. If you get it, don’t go to A&E. With this ‘Peekaboo Virus’ go to ICU.
I apologise for that and I despise myself for admitting that it did make me smile. (Mr Cowan once again.)
Continue reading “Week 576 – Pretty Colours, Being Alert And An Attempt At Misdirection.”
In a war-torn region of the Balkans. Esma weaved around the fly-blown corpse, hand-flipped out. Like she was a model on the runway. The other hand carried a bouquet of blue and yellow wildflowers held up to her face. She breathed in the fragrance like perfumed death.
Continue reading “Flowers for Esma by Christopher Ananias”
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.
Continue reading “Writers Read – Travels With Charley – an essay by Leila”
Sometime last year I became a recipient of “The Word of the Day.” I didn’t sign up for it, but I must have accidentally hit a link. Still, I’m glad to have it.
Continue reading “Week 575- Hey Man, are You Scripturient?”
(The image is of the actual Andy, who graciously posed)
-1-
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.
Continue reading “A Castle For the Roller Derby Queen”
literally stories 