Tag: life

Short Fiction

442: The Leader of the Dirty Dozen Disciples; The August Heat Times Five; The Next Voice of Choice

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The Mysterious Ways of Lee Marvin

I was with friends, waiting to be seated at a restaurant, and I kept hearing “So and so party of such and such, your table is ready” over the speaker. Since I cannot keep my mouth shut, I joked “Christ, party of thirteen, your table is ready.” This earned me a sour look from a lady across the lobby, whom God must have endowed with keen hearing. She was wearing a crucifix large enough for a rapper or eighties’ era Madonna. I sighed, for it seems to me that God probably has a sense of humor, although many of the faithful do not.

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All Stories, Humour, Short Fiction

A Conversation About The Sixties by Hugh Cron (Adult Content)

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“I’m fed up watching the news. Seemingly, the queen’s still dead.”

“That’s six months now and they’re still harping on about it. I can’t remember the last time I bought a paper.”

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Music by Leila Allison

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I half-seriously considered boosting the copy of the Beatles’ “White Album” I gave my sister Tess on her tenth birthday in 1972. I didn’t care who made it; I didn’t care if it was a double album–seven bucks for a four-year-old record was bullshit. I figured I could easily outrun the young clerk who looked like the only person in The House of Values remotely fit and crazy enough to give chase. For if I did make the move, it would come to that. Getting away unnoticed with an album was impossible due to its shape; almost as dumb as trying to conceal a basketball under your sweater. But a little voice told me that it was bad luck to steal a birthday present if you have the money. So, I wound up buying the goddamn thing, but I hooked a Rocky Road bar at the register so I wouldn’t go away feeling like a complete chump

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All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Kick by Leila Allison

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Rehab, 1988

Using cardboard, duct tape and a lamp, Tess turned her closet into a camera obscura.

“This gag’s been around forever,” Tess explained to her “model”–a simple but sweet cocaine addict named Sabrina. “Remember, hold a straight face and don’t look at the light.”

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All Stories, Fantasy, General Fiction, Historical, Horror, Humour, Short Fiction

Franky And Jesus by Hugh Cron (Warning – Very strong adult content with what some would find blasphemous references. Do not read if you are likely to be offended.)

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For my sister Tracy – Happy birthday and I know that your mind will be elsewhere. Hope this cheers you up a wee tad.

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Editor Picks, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Week 401: A Dirty Slate; Welcome to YES-vember and What’s On Your Wonderwall?

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Tableau de rasa is Latin for “a clean slate.” In philosophy it describes the unmuddled mind of infancy, which is soon spoiled by life. I was once one of those overly polite people who’d write “As you know…” or something equally cagey before sneakily defining a term that I figured maybe only half the readers already know. This of course presents an unwinnable situation for the polite person. I have always seen condescending people as jerks while patronizing types are smiling jerks. In my mind you cannot patronize without being condescending but you can condescend without being patronizing. So, if anyone out there smells either on my breath I apologize, but it might be an aid to know that I consider condescension slightly less rotten than patronization.

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All Stories, Crime/Mystery/Thriller, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Ben by Hugh Cron – Warning – Adult Content.

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Before Ben knew it he was sixty.

He wasn’t sure if that bothered him but it was now forty one years.

He stayed in what he called his ‘But and Ben’. He loved the old bed that pulled down from the wall. Ben reckoned that there was a cure for cancer within it’s mattress but he didn’t care that there might have also been a hundred different types of lurgey living within the confines of decades of dead skin and bodily fluids. It was quite comfortable.

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All Stories, Fantasy, General Fiction, Short Fiction, Writing

Legs Eleven by Hugh Cron

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She smiled as she heard his wail. He’d always been delicate and wasn’t as mature as the other kids.

…But she knew that would change soon.

He ran into the room with his fist clenched out in front of him.

“Now then Jimmy, don’t cry. It’s only a bit of blood.

…And it’s worth it.”

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