Category: Guest Authors

The Successful Rodent

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It happened that there were two mouse-brothers.
Life was hard for these mice. Vicious cats roamed the neighborhood; other animals constantly made life difficult.
There was the duck, all harsh voice and shrill temper.
There were the dogs. One, though he could speak the language of people, was so dimwitted as to be a danger to himself and others. The other was, after all, a dog, and what dog does not enjoy sport with helpless mice?
It all changed when brother Mickey, after lengthy study, procured a Steamboat Operator’s License.
Moral: Wish upon a star, my ass. Study to succeed!

Enough

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My people, they are a stiff-necked people.
Been that way for thousands of years. Back in the Sinai days, Moses had it all figured out. You think he climbed up Mount Nebo to die, giving up on his dream to enter the Promised Land just because God told him to?
Think again.
He simply couldn’t stand any more of the constant bitching, whining, and nagging.
“It was better back in Egypt.” “This manna sucks! I want meat!” “I’m thirsty!” “We’re all gonna die!
So Moses said, “Enough, already!”
Can’t say I blame him. Other people may complain, but Jews harp.

Div

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Andrew Ian Dodge tells the vicious tale of Div…

Div was thrown a curve when he learned Robbie Williams was coming back to Take That. His killing spree the last time was after the singer left the group. He did it to keep TT going after Williams left the fold. His only hope is that Robbie was not “Back for Good’ so he could kill again. Div was upset; he so enjoyed his murdering; it gave him a thrill so missing in his life. Frustrated Div tossed the balled up paper into the fire…as his last victim burnt to a crisp. This bottle of gasoline had seen to that.

Lost

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Eldrick was furious.
He had recently scored a set of classic persimmon-head clubs. Not for work, he had told himself. Never for work. These beauties are for pleasure.
Their heads glowed with a deep varnished luster, the brass screws set perfectly flush. Four gorgeous clubs: driver, brassie, cleek, and spoon. Products of a bygone age.
And now they were missing.
How can they be missing? he asked himself. How many golf club thieves can there be at an Oceanographic Institute on the south shore of Cape Cod?
Eldrick groaned, thinking of the headlines. “Woods Loses Woods at Woods (Hole).” Crap.

Take That

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Andrew Ian Dodge tells another tale to the music…

He watched the fire burn bright; on his iPod was Take That’s Relight My Fire. He never thought he would be back doing his tribute to the boys. It took him from the time of the reunion announcement until their first gig to decide how he would restart his tribute. Would he kill aging TT fans or young girls like the last time? Would his failed pursuers figure out he had returned? Teenage girls are far more newsworthy than older women. The song ended and he headed away from the still burning body…looking forward to next date on their tour.

Poor Career Choice

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Dr. Zimmerman shook his head in frustration.
Since hanging out his shingle, he had had hundreds of patients. Not a single one ever came back a second time.
It was a damned shame. A poor choice of specialty. Prostate exams…
He had been a football player in his younger days. With hands the size of Smithfield hams, he could snag almost any pass. But when a knee injury buried his NFL dreams, medical school beckoned.
Crap, he thought.
You don’t need a weatherman to see which way the wind blows…or that the world has no need for a Meaty Urologist.

Tube

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What lurks beneath? Andrew Ian Dodge worries…

In London we dig underground deep into the cold soil to make room for our trains and tunnels.
Thousands of workers and machines toiling in the earth. Amongst the workers, who work 24/7, are a few people whose task is to provide safety. They aren’t health & safety people; but dedicated individuals who make sure that all the tunnels are properly protected.
Those marks you see speeding along in the tube or in your car are not graffiti or left over from construction. They are wards against some of the other things that reside in the earth.
Very nasty things.

Critical Mass

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Superman’s forehead glistened with a film of sweat as he strained with momentary effort.
Clink. House note.
Strain. Clink. Car note.
Strain. Clink. Electric bill.
Every month, the same routine. Scarf a few charcoal briquettes, crap out a few water-white diamonds. That was how the world’s most famous superhero kept the wolf from the door. Couldn’t very well knock over a bank, could he?
The system worked. Most of the time, anyway.
Of course, there was that grim Tax Day back in 2016 when Lex Luthor doped the charcoal supply with plutonium. Where Metropolis had stood was now radioactive glass.

Apple Fatwah

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Andrew Ian Dodge looks across The Pond at a new Mecca…

Those who got offended by the Danish Mohammed Cartoons of Death might take exception to a new Apple store that looks just like the focus of the Haj. Several wags in the news refer to it as the Apple mecca. Just think of it: future generations will be used to hearing from Islamists that “Apple computers are the tool of the infidel.” There will be fatwas for believers to trash every Mac they find and burn Apple shops worldwide. Universities in the US will fall prey to Muslim pressure and no longer sell Macs to their students. Infidel Mac die!

Waiting For Pentecost

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They carried his broken, bleeding body to the cave, weeping with every step.
They laid him down, bade their farewells, and sealed the cave entrance with a massive rock.
Three days later, he arose, clad in pure white raiment. He leaped to the mouth of the cave, rolled the rock away, and stepped into the blinding sunlight. Almost as quickly, he retreated into the depths of the cave, shaken and fearful.
That terrible dark shape on the ground! He shivered in horror. Could it have been the Devil himself?
No matter. After six more weeks, Punxsutawney Jesus would try again.