FICTION FRIDAY: Three Other Little Pigs
Once upon a time there were three little pigs. The first little pig liked broccoli, so she built a restaurant that served elegant broccoli dishes. The second little pig loved eggs, so she built herself a bistro that served light fluffy egg dishes. The third little pig had no imagination, so she built herself…
Got a Feelin’ You’re Foolin’
And so we come to April Fool’s Day. This is a holiday with a rich tradition of postcard-sending, but not so much in this country. As we have treated elsewhere hereintoforehitherto about the cheerful French tradition of fish postcards which combine April Fool’s Day with the old style New Year celebrations. So today we…
LIKE A MIGHTY QUONKER, Chapter 2
The skull, taken simply as a skull, was unobjectionable: clean and white, displayed on a black tablecloth for better contrast. Matt had seen photographs of skulls before: his mother owned at least a dozen such photos. Before committing murders (to paper), she liked to look at a few pictures to put her in the…
Suds and Songs
The association of wine, women, and song is an ancient one, and carries cultural baggage too multitudinous to unpack in a single blog (or year of blogs). The tradition in comedy of singing among men who have lubricated their windpipes sufficiently to break down discretion is also a bit much to consider in one…
MIDWEEK FICTION: Chicken Social
Chicken Social was a small yellow chick with good legs, a loud chirp, and a phone. One day he crossed the road and hopped along the road to see if the worms were fatter I other people’s yard, and came to a high fence around an airport. Since he had never seen an…
LIKE A MIGHTY QUONKER, Chap. 1
Sunlight rolled across the tawny, intermittently furred body of the cave girl. Her chin was up, her face turned away from the sun, and a bright red lower lip stuck out in an imperious pout. Matt turned the page. He reached for the diet Dr. Pepper that he always kept on hand while…
Did They Really…Yeah, They Did
For reasons we needn’t go into, the above has never been one of my favorite gags. But I believe it helps illustrate that our ancestors were not as shy about sex as we like to believe. (As noted hereintofore, that’s how they got to be ancestors.) This is a joke which makes absolutely no…
MIDWEEK FICTION: Terms and Condititions
“Are you Emir the Inexhaustible?” “You know the answer, sir. You were in here just last week. You brought in a wallet and I tried to turn you away because I can enchant only things I have never enchanted before, and wallets are always being brought to me.” “I thought I had…
My Life in Pizza
I have never been able to join the debate between Chicago Pizza and New York Pizza. Or New Haven Pizza or deep dish pizza or tavern style pizza or thin crust pizza or ketchup-on-toast pizza (what your thin crust people call pizzas made with a breadlike crust). I have recently realized why this is. …
All-American G-Rated Cussin’
As I continue my hopeless quest to figure out why some writers a hundred years ago or thereabouts referred to a handgun as a “roscoe” (I keep waiting for Fatty Arbuckle to be the answer, but no one goes along with it) and my equally futile journey to find out what happened to the…
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