Months ago, the line, “I’m not racist, but” – followed by something entirely mundane – started as a joke in my standup comedy routine. I couldn’t make it work right, so I dropped it. But I kept thinking about it, and eventually birthed this story. It’ll take barely two minutes to read. The website that… Read More »
We went to Paraguay in 2017. I wrote “A Shakespearean Tragedy on a Paraguayan Ranch” about one aspect of our stay there. It took me a long time to find a publisher with the sense of humor required for this particular piece, but Danse Macabre fits the bill nicely. A three-minute read.
All those years of dead-end programming jobs finally paid off. Here is a link to the “The Help Desk“. The story is a four-minute read, but it’s so funny you’ll swear it only took 3:55.
The good people at Theme of Absence are fast becoming my best friends. They have put up another short story of mine, Days of the Dead. It’s either a dark comedy or a lighthearted horror. It’ll take you four minutes to read, excluding pauses for the laughing and the quaking in fear.
A fiction site I looked at a couple years ago had submission guidelines which stated explicitly: no nudity. I was amused that a story with no pictures or illustrations could contain nudity. The following link will take you to a short story of mine, The Nymph, on the website Theme of Absence. It’s a dark… Read More »
My brother-in-law is a car guy who likes tinkering. I thought a bunch of cars that have been trained to sit up and hop would be perfect, both for him and our kids.
This is a short bodice-ripper. In outer space.
My comeuppance was sure and brutal. It was a full two months after our return to Chicago that I could bear to tell the story to even my closest friends. I stand here now, chastened and deflated. Go, with my blessings, to the Wisconsin Dells, and be at peace.
They were the biggest marshmallows I had ever seen. Perhaps the soft pastels of green, blue, and pink were meant to make these whipped-sugar baseballs seem less threatening. Had they been in a normal-sized marshmallow bag, four, maybe five, would have fit. This sack held hundreds. I looked up and eyeballed the enormous flying saucer perched above. Yes, I calculated, if the command module is hollow as well, they just might fit.
Yessimbol, from Kazakhstan, had arrived only a few minutes earlier and didn’t speak English. So it was in Russian that he asked me why the zombie mannequin hanging from the ceiling was dressed in lingerie and high heels.