Satire
Flight to Pamplona
I’ve never participated in the Pamplona bull run—the encierro—in San Fermin, Spain. The sheer thunderous weight of the large beasts who are funneled into the same municipal corridors as the human adventurers must be one of the most powerful vises for the adrenal glands ever devised. Confused animals are stoked into a rage at this juxtaposition, and the hard horns meeting fragile flesh, quite unnecessarily, fuels the exhilaration of unpredictable potential outcomes.
By Gerard DiLeo4 years ago in Fiction
Aunt Jemima Loves Pancakes
Aunt Jemima moved swiftly through the rain pulling the collar of her jacket tighter against her neck - tears ran down her cheeks. The wind grew stronger, practically turning the umbrella inside out. The neon light beckoned as she got closer to Joe's Diner. She entered, shook out her umbrella and sat on a stool at the counter. “Nasty night,” the waitress said, “What can I get for you?”
By pamela mayer4 years ago in Fiction
Bulls > Bears > Humans
There was a world that had three classes of animals: bulls, bears, and humans. The bulls were at the top. Aggressive and carefree, they tackled every venture with a thrust of their horns. Although lacking in morality, their modus operandi led to their successful reign over the cautious bears and frail humans. They dominated the business world due to their relentless risk-taking. Their ruthless attacks on fellow candidates rendered them unbeatable in politics. Their social circles had no room for humans, and only the slightest for a few bears.
By Julian Moritz4 years ago in Fiction
Tree Salad
You do not have to be vegan or vegetarian to consume this salad since it is universal, actually only for Earthlings, except for trees. I doubt they will like this salad since it would be somewhat cannibalistic on their part if they do. We have known the feel, taste, and fill of human meat throughout our history during lean times and when it was believed to contain one’s essence and strength. These facts always amazed me. How ignorant were we? How keen on bloody flesh and licking bones were our not-so-remote ancestors? There breathed brainless cannibals in the last century, notwithstanding the demented variety who had their freaking minutes of fame. Hannibal Lecter was just the cinematic version. But this recipe is for a tree salad, not a human one. I have no recipe for human flesh, except to kiss, lick, and bite it when in love.
By Patrick M. Ohana4 years ago in Fiction
The Tragedy of Harry the Singing Dog
The Family had a dog. He was a small Jack Russell with all the marks of inbreeding. A foot that turned out like it was broken. Impenetrable cloudy eyes that looked in two different directions. When he ran his misaligned hips made him look as rigid as a toy horse. But what upset the family the most were the seizures that he had once a month. Those feeble contortions made Lily cry.
By Rolled Oats4 years ago in Fiction
Letter to the Editor
To whom it may concern, This letter is written in concern to the Pear Tree challenge, I don’t think I will be able to write a productive story based around a pear tree. I don’t seem to have enough inspiration to do one for this round like I did for the other rounds. Even though I used a picture of a pear tree sitting next to a small lake with two star-crossed lovers making perfect love under the tree it didn’t seem to work for me, all I could come up with was the done and done again romance story that would be a bit predictable. Below is a snippet of the story that I did manage to write:
By Timothy E Jones4 years ago in Fiction
My Acceptance Speech
To the entire population of the planet Zarg. I am deeply honoured and humbled to be invited to become your supreme Deity, and I am delighted to accept. This advancement will look absolutely great on my CV and will no doubt be an obvious talking point at any future job interviews. One quick question – is the post hereditary? If so, I am sure that my son will fill the post admirably when the time comes.
By John Welford4 years ago in Fiction
The Severance Package
The room was sparse and cool. Two windows were shaded with Venetian blinds on the opposite wall from the heavy wooden door. A small square window in the door at about eye-level looked back into the equally sparse hallway. The walls in the room were dingy off-white, the ceiling a drop-down with similarly coloured tiles, and the floor was tiled possibly three decades before and showed some wear. The room reminded Fred of a classroom from his high school years.
By Daniel E Gagné4 years ago in Fiction
The Trial
“You may approach, Bogdan Bogdanovich.” And so Bogdan Bogdanovich did. The lugubrious man lugged his stout frame from his chair – walnut, standard-issue, much like the desks, pews, and paneled walls – and walked precisely twelve steps (for he had counted) to stand directly in front of the middle of the three Judges before him.
By Jonathan Davydov4 years ago in Fiction
