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Week 164 – Lots Of Words, Lots Of Stories And All Tom Sheehan

We had a cracking conversation, well type, over the last week or so and it was regarding drying up. Now I am not talking about ladies of a certain age. But when I think on it, since they most likely put up with gentlemen of a certain age, no wonder sandpaper can form where you would least expect it. That was nice of me for the ladies, so here’s a balance. *Being semi-erect when you see her is not a compliment if you were fully erect before…

…Couples of a certain age…Discuss!!!

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

No Past, No Future, Just Now by Michelle Ann King

Front door shut and locked. Push it again, jiggle the handle a few more times, to be sure. I left it open once — maybe more than once?—and next-door’s cat got in the house. Henry wasn’t pleased with me. He’s been so good, so patient, but he was very upset about the door. I’ve been much more careful since.

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All Stories, General Fiction

A Half Century Come and Gone by Tom Sheehan

 I could picture what it would be like if we met again all these years later. It might go down like this: After 670 miles of a pretty cross country haul, I’d see the meeting-place pub we’d picked sitting brown and ugly like a hovel at the side of the road, a meeting place for the century, out there in some square, hard country setting. And I’d brace myself for comrades, the long stretch between get-togethers, wondering what the hard stuff would do to me this time. Undoubtedly it would leave tracks again.

I closed my eyes, wondering all over again. I hoped Balbo would be in there and Diaz. I hoped Archie’d be in there, red in the face, after his fifth visit, his third wife, his second hospital stay, counting his visits, keeping the tab at his elbow, paying it with no fanfare at all, sometimes embarrassed by his own quick acceptance of it, owing somebody, always owing somebody in this crazy life.

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All Stories, General Fiction, Humour, Romance, Short Fiction, Writing

If… by Hugh Cron – Warning Strong Adult Content

“Mum, mum, I’m just going to come right out with it…I’m straight.”

“My God!”

Janice crossed herself and burst into tears.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Dead People on Facebook by Roger Ley

“Seven o’clock, Martin, time to get up,” said Siri from the bedside table.

“Alarm off,” he said.

“Today is Estella’s birthday, would you like to send her a greeting?” asked the cheery voice.

“I’d love to send her a greeting but she died a week ago so it seems a little pointless.”

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All Stories, General Fiction

Spam in a Can by David Lohrey

My pal’s orange Datsun was riddled with bullet holes. The passenger door was a mess. There were between 12 and 21 spaces where the body shop mechanic had had to drill to knock out dents from the impact of an oncoming pickup. Rich could afford the holes but not the patches.

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All Stories, Latest News, Short Fiction

Week 163 – Fun With Answers And Fudfucks With Perfect Rolled Up Sleeves

Thanks for the questions folks, they are posted at the end of the reviews. We all had a lot of fun answering them.

So not too much wittering from me.

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All Stories, Fantasy

That, Which Was Bought by Noah Lemelson  

Know this, what I tell you is not true. It is just a story, just words. It is important that you do not forget this.

First, there is a forest. Or a jungle. It does not matter. It could be a town, even, abandoned many years before. But it is not, it is a forest.

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All Stories, General Fiction

Low Pressure Terracotta by Robert P. Kaye

The wind stopped blowing on Friday afternoon. Unexpected, since it had never happened before, the problem usually too much wind versus too little. The army of giant turbines stopped rotating in unison. An eerie view from Wayne’s perch in the control tower.

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller

An Eye, For an Eye by Arthur Davis    

They were on me at once, each with their own manner of eagerness and exerting their righteous belief in violence for violence’s sake.

They tore away at my shoulders and arms, beating, demanding I release my grip from Luky Roberts.

Some voices were familiar, most were strange and hostile, as I had come to expect in Compound RR4, one of the lightest secured cell units in the Saratoga Range District Penal System.

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