There is a well-known truism you can take a horse to water but a pencil must be lead. I have waited an aeon to find a suitable juncture to slot this witticism into a profound piece of writing, but alas, had to stick it in here instead.
Whilst this observation might seem bizarre, regular readers will know instantly it is merely a shameless contrivance by which to segue seamlessly into the first of this week’s homages to the short story.
tulations! You have successfully traveled backwards in time!
Do you have qualms about killing a rare and mystical beast? Do you fear the DMV and other institutions like it? If so, read no further; if not, read on. Throughout the course of this guide you will learn the secrets of time travel. To travel back in time it is necessary to collect your supplies, construct your machine, and then, finally, to make your jump. This is no easy process. Many men and women far smarter than you have failed while attempting to turn back the hands of the clock.
Continue reading “How to Have Broken Her Heart by Nate Rush”
”Hello, sir.”
”Yea?”
”Uhm. I’m here to see Pam.”
“My daughter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You the kid?”
“Uhm…”
“I mean the kid she’s been sneaking off with. The … No, let me think. The Williams boy, right?”
Chester McNaughton Connaughton, aptly named for both sides of the family, landowner in the new world, squeezer of pennies and nickels at the very corpulence of coin, embarrassed at times by his own good fortune where his roots had once been controlled and ordained by potatoes and turnips or the lack thereof, gazed over the latest acquisition of a two-acre parcel abutting his prime abode and wondered how he could best utilize it. Mere coinage, he had early assessed, would apply the jimmy bar under Carlton Smithers and separate him from the land in their town of Saxon, not far from Boston. Carlton was old, alone, susceptible. It would be a piece of cake. It was, subsequently and as he had forecast, a swift steal, and papers and proper process moved the property under the shield of his name.
A week that began with a flight of fancy, or fantasy flight, depending on how you read it, ended in not dissimilar fashion.
Whilst LS newcomer Lawrence Buentello kept his MC’s feet on the ground he could not prevent her schoolgirl head being up in the clouds, in Wings.
James McEwan said of Friday’s story: “A subtle story, which leaves a quiet resonance in my mind, contemplating, yes, quietly contemplating.”
Marie first noticed the butterfly outside her window while writing in her diary.
She’d just written, This room is like my own cocoon these days, though I wish it weren’t, when she happened to turn her head to see the butterfly perched on a bough of the oak tree just beyond the sill. She briefly returned her attention to the opened book before her, but then set her pen on the crease of the pages and stared from the window again.
“Dad! Dad! Are we there yet? Are we?”
“No.”
“But we’ve been driving for-EVER!”
“Quiet back there!”
Frida held her breath. Jack looked up in the rear-view mirror. “What are you doing?” He turned to Hanna. “What is she doing?”
Hanna turned around. “Are you holding your breath to be quiet?” Frida nodded her head enthusiastically. Hanna held out her hand and gave Frida a high-five. “I’m also going to hold my breath. We can’t disturb Jack!”
“Alright, ladies. I get it. Should I turn on the radio? Will some music make you happy, honey?”
…at an age of seventy-five. We celebrate his memory with a song Robert Broberg crafted in 1967. Here it is. The classic; ‘The Boat Song’.
One of the sailboats said, to the other that, you are lovely,
we should be boarding in hand, courting far from land,
sailing off unmanned, like only sailboats can,
Bada-bam-bam-bam-bam, bada-bam-bam-bam-bam…
Dirt Bike Armada is a 1988 action comedy starring Alfie Schultz as Donny “Kickstand” Harris. The film was directed by Reginald Crowley (fresh off his Golden Globes-nominated miniseries, Another Blackout in Electric City) and features Lowell Armingham (Brain Lasers), Heather DeLaney (Operation: Vigilante U.S.A. II), Tim Conway (The Apple Dumpling Gang) as the mischievous Mr. Humbert, and Mr. T as himself.
‘Would passengers for Flight 0077A to Buenos Aires, departing at sixteen thirty-five, please make their way to gate…’
Mr. Zimmerman checked his boarding pass.
I guess they mean me.
Continue reading “Mr. Zimmerman Flies To Buenos Aires (Economy Class) by Adam West”
Sunday used to be the day LS maintained radio-silence. Well not any longer baby. We sexed up Sunday weeks ago. Anything goes on a Sunday. Well almost. Witness In Conversation with…and Editor Picks and now something outrageously entitled A Writing Piece.
A Writing Piece indeed!
Imagine how long we sat around in blue-sky think-tank style working parties debating the ins and outs of various off-the-wall titles before arriving at that humdinger.
Sunday – A Writing Piece – Tobias Haglund.
But first, Story of the Week. No. A different first before that.
The week that was, began incredibly, yet again, on Monday.
literally stories 