by Doug Sovern People think I died ten years ago. Hell, even my own agent thinks that. I called there the other day. “Abe Vigoda for Mort Bloomstein,” I say. The gal on the phone goes, “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Vigoda is no longer with us.” And by “us,” she…
by Michael C. Keith Things have come to a pretty pass when [man] is allowed to invade the sphere of private life. –– Lord Melbourne “Somebody hid a micro camera in the President’s bedroom!” whispered White House staffer Scott Piffin to his girlfriend. “You’re kidding!…
by Thomas Joyce Inside a jail in Poland: October 1946 Sitting alone in his cell, 26-year-old Father Yakub Paskievich, suffering from the effects of a bad beating inflicted on him, lowered his head. He wanted to think, sort things out, but he became aware of a distracting noise, a dripping…
Here Files of Pins extend their shining Rows, Puffs, Powders, Patches, Bibles, Billet-doux. …
by Aaron Jensen There should have been pain. Gene knew that; he also knew that the lack of that pain meant that he was probably going to die. The only thing left to ponder was how long it would take this mangled and motionless husk—which had been a fit and…
by Ross Glover Bubba circled his bed next to the driveway. The arthritic pain in his joints kept him from easing his body onto the ground, and he fell with a grunt. Soon the warm sun would take the ache away. He had no sense of time except for day…
All love at first, like generous wine, Ferments and frets until ‘tis fine; But when ‘tis settled on the lee, And from th’ impurer matter free, Becomes the richer still the older, And proves the pleasanter the colder. –– Samuel Butler Why are my daughters not beautiful, lamented ancient…
by Dixon Hearne I’m serving kibble and greens to stick people who do lunch here to be seen. They hide behind designer sunglasses to make absolutely sure they’re noticed by paparazzi and tacky fans that point and lunge and squeal. Last week, I deliberately tossed a salad all over Table…
by Tanya Maxwell Knowing the future is not what people make it out to be, a gift or something. It’s a curse. The only future I get to see is death. It wasn’t always like this. When I was seven years old, a drunk driver passed by me too closely…
By Diane Walters Those younger years filled with teenaged days, borne of bittersweet emotions . . . everything is brighter, life wrapped in energy that bounces and zings with boundless possibilities. Until something happens to bring it crashing down, down, down. Those lows can reach as far down as those…