Monthly archives: April, 2015

#142 What do Turtles Eat

What Do Turtles Eat When I was six years old, my small world was called Hano. Comprised of Blaine, Hano, Everett, and a few other streets. About the only thing that grew there were weeds breaking through cracks in cement and an occasional stalk of rhubarb that would grow in an alley beside someone’s house….




#142 Hired Killer

Hired Killer Accused of a crime that carried a death sentence if convicted, I’d die before I’d say where I had been when it happened to prove it wasn’t me. Death before dishonor was tattooed on my arm and it was a constant reminder of what I was obliged to do. She was married to…




#140 What’s in the Shadowbox?

Linda heard her husband Tim trying to fit his key into the front door lock. After a few minutes, she got out of bed to open it for him, but before she could, he kicked it open. “Damn lock’s no good,” he mumbled in his drunken stupor as he crashed into Andy’s crib. The baby…




#139 Gold

#139 Gold Four men wearing straw hats, boots, and nothing else sat in the Honeyhive sipping clear volcano juice flown in daily from Jupiter’s moon, Lo. Others miners who worked the volcanic terrain dressed like those in the Honeyhive. There were over 400 active volcanoes on Lo, spewing liquid gold into the air that puddled on…




#137 What’s Cooking

#137 What’s Cooking I sat quietly at my desk when my wife said, “What are you thinking about?” She expected me to say, “Nothing, I was only thinking of you,” but I surprised her when I said, “I often wonder when I get to heaven if Filet of Soul will be dinner that night, and…




#136 Deceit

#136 Deceit At a UFO convention in Las Vegas, I couldn’t take my eyes of a girl with multi colored hair.  She wore a skin tight Star Trek uniform that outlined her curves as Jeri Ryan’s costume did in Voyager. The girl I eyeballed was smoking hot too as my friends used to say about…




The complete Molly Story

#135 Another Molly Story  Raphael finished his shift at the foundry, hot and thirsty; he sauntered into Hungarian Joes as a tear jerker country and western song played on the old Wurlitzer Jukebox. He tore the electric cord from the wall. The music whined to a halt as he strode to the bar where Hank…




Pussy Cats

#134 Pussy Cats Jay was tending bar at Hungarian Joe’s, and Hank sat on his usual stool. “What’s the matter Raphael? You look like you just lost your best friend.” “I did,” I said, and paged through the journal I’ve been keeping for years. I opened it to a story I wrote 14 years ago….




# 133 Hungarian Joe’s

# 133 Hungarian Joe’s Trying to forget she wouldn’t be there when I got home, I sat drinking beer in Hungarian Joe’s bar. Six months have passed since Sherry, my wife died, and every time I open the door, I expect her to be standing there to greet me as she had done for fifteen…




#132 Misguided Love

#132 Misguided Love    Home is solitude where I only go to lay my head. Pictures hung on the walls in my perfect home portray bygone times. My house is empty now and as quiet as a mausoleum. When I come home, no one’s there, and no one seems to care I’m all alone, and…