Philandering Preachers and Politicians By John Garmon Any human being is in this world once and only To pass along their take on their moral compass Having helped to raise money for politicians Preachers stand behind shaky pulpits in awe The pope sneaks out some nights and disappears Into a…
By Alex Scarelli I drew in the dirt of our yard with a stick, watching the late summer sun fall from the sky and my Dad coming up the driveway in his pickup. When he parked, he got out and grabbed his lunchbox and a six-pack of Budweiser from the…
By Donnarkevic I recognize the black balloons, the same kind used at the office party for my fiftieth birthday. Now sixty, I expected something more creative: black homburgs, melanistic leopards, caviar. I would have settled for farfalla schwarz (black bowtie pasta). Instead, I got first pick from a six-foot sub, Black…
By Cameron Burry “How to Pick Your Dream Profession” By Julian Flowers To find your dream profession, you need to find your passion. What is it that you want to do with your life? Why is that what you want to do? Do you only want a paycheck or is…
The report of my death was an exaggeration. –– Mark Twain By Michael Keith Ellie Murphy was finally leaving on the trip she had dreamed about her entire adult life. Her fascination with the Far East was born of a desire to track her great-grandmother’s roots in a tiny village…
By Frank Scozzari The door swung open and the silhouette that appeared was undoubtedly that of a ballerina. The figure was sublime and had the fanning outline of a tutu about the waist. “Can I use your phone?” the silhouette cried out. Marge, the fifty-something waitress-proprietor looked over at the…
By Meryl Healy My wavy red curls lie in a pile on the floor; my bloody gold crown lies in a small wooden bowl, and my new brown loafers were ripped from me—in the same way that the bastard Nazis took Mama and Papa. My forearm is crimson and throbbing…
This animal is very bad; when attacked it defends itself. –– Anonymous By Michael Keith Old Doc figured it could be the end for Sweet Breeze when the 6-year-old limped into the stable after the last race. Indeed, the mare herself knew that a racehorse that could no longer run…
By Debra Hanley We arrived before the hearse. Heads turned as the deafening sound of twenty motorcycles rolled through the cemetery. Dressed in jeans and t-shirts layered beneath our vests, many were decorated with military insignia. We parked with precision dismounted, and gathered our flags. Solemnly we took up positions…
By Jennifer Bower How long have you been hiding in those bushes, friend? Lord, you must be freezing. Come on now. Quickly, quickly! Follow me up to the house. It’s a good thing Sister Draper’s baby was delivered without complication, or I might have been out all evening. Is there…