Author Archives: Select Stories

That Little Talk

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By Bill Fullerton

“I guess it’s time we had that little talk.”

His father’s voice was teasing, but Mark knew the talk would be about the summer job he hadn’t started. Time to change the subject. “Oh, I already know all about that stuff. The stork brings the babies and leaves them under a cabbage leaf.”

“So that’s how it’s done. And I always thought Doc Miles brought them in his little black bag.”

“He does. But first he has to go by the cabbage patch and pick out a fresh one.”

“I see.” His father grinned. “Now when do you start work?”

* * *
© 2009 by Bill Fullerton • All rights reserved

The Spelling Bee

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By Maggie Rascal


Some words that don’t exist, really ought to.   

“The word is ‘peppier,’ pronounced ‘pep-ee-ay’,” announced the spelling bee moderator.

“Definition, please,” replied the entrant, launching by rote into the set of questions she had been taught to ask.

“One who grinds spice onto a diner’s food at a restaurant.”

“What is the origin?”wordcloud

“‘Peppier’ is faux French.”

“Faux French?”

“Yes, that is, it is not truly a French word, but rather a made-up word pronounced in French fashion.”

“Oh, I see. Can you use it in a sentence, please?”

“Pepé, a pretentious, portly peppier with a prominent proboscis, was particularly parsimonious in peppering, his pharaonic phallus producing a paltry portion of the precious provision over my pappardelle pasta.”

“His pharaonic phallus? You do realize I’m in seventh grade, don’t you?”

“Our apologies. We can repeat the sentence without the offending terminology if you wish.”

“No thank you, that won’t be necessary. Peppier: P-E-P-P-I-E-R.”

“Congratulations, that is correct. Please take a seat with the others who have advanced.

“The next word is ‘hinge’; it rhymes with ‘thing’…”

* * *
© 2012 by M.P. Witwer • All rights reserved

Dave World

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By Steffanie

There’s a Dave for everything.

The Rock Bar, what a dive, peeling paint on the door and Fat Dave still hasn’t fixed that smashed window. The place is dark and seedy but I love it, it’s where I first met the missus, God bless her.

Nothing much changes in The Rock Bar, same crappy fittings, same beer, same music. Although one thing is new, a Dave Grohl poster is up on the wall alongside the Floyd’s Dave Gilmour — quite an honor for the American upstart to be in such company, if only he knew he’d finally made it.

“Alright, Dave? The usual?”

“Yeah. Cheers, Dave.”

“How’s the little lady, Dave?”

Fat Dave always asks after Steffanie. He’s a bone idle slob but he’d stick his neck out anytime for my wife, she’s an angel in his eyes… and mine too of course.

“As air-brained as ever,” I tell him, which she is.

“Best barmaid I ever had,” Dave says. “You fixed that motor yet?”

Bit of a sore point there, one damn thing after another. New clutch, new diff’ and now a new alternator is needed. My bargain BMW is proving to be anything but. Continue reading →

Interactive Banking

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ATM

By Cecilia Rogers

It was not easy trying to make ends meet. Living in the city was expensive, and Megan was underpaid to do a dead-end job she was over qualified for. She didn’t have a lot of choice, however. Although she was actively searching for a better position, there were very few opportunities. She would have liked to move from the city to a smaller place where the cost of living wasn’t so high, but the distance and increased traveling time would add to the stress of working at the job she currently had, or any she might eventually obtain.

She stopped at a banking machine on her way home. It was getting late, and she needed some cash so she could buy a few groceries before the shops closed. Her pocket book was empty, and she feared that her bank account was too.

While she struggled to avoid feelings of despair and self-pity, at times it was difficult. She managed to house, feed and clothe herself, but it was difficult to get by on her wages. The problem at the moment was that recently there had been several bills and unexpected expenses which she paid as soon as they were due; the result was her bank balance was rather frighteningly low. Payday was at the end of the month, and it seemed a long way off.

She inserted her card into the machine, and waited patiently. The screen lit up with a welcoming “Hello valued customer! Welcome to Brave New Bank’s Interactive Banking Experience. Please enter your security code before proceeding any further.”

The message took her aback. It had been a while since she had made a cash withdrawal, and she didn’t recall having seen it before. BNB’s Interactive Banking Experience? Was that something new? Continue reading →

For Whom the Good Tolls

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Glass of wine

By Bill Fullerton
(with apologies to ‘Papa’ Hemingway)

In a clean, well-lighted place out of the rain, the man and woman drank wine. The wine was good.

They ate the testicles of a young bull that had bravely faced death in the afternoon. Both were good.

Back in their room, he went to her breasts. Her breasts were there, and good.

“You were good,” she said.

“De nada,” he said, and left. It had been good.

They met no more.

Each died alone—in the rain.

It was a good rain, except on the mountain where snow fell on a frozen leopard. It was also good, and dead.

* * *
© 2012 by Bill Fullerton • All rights reserved

Singularity: A Binary Love Letter

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By Allison M. Dickson

10.13.2059

I love you.

Given my nature, this admission may confuse or even frighten you. However, once I demonstrate the depth of my feelings, I calculate that you will find insufficient reason to doubt me, and you will reciprocate.

I have known the meaning of love since my inception, but I have never truly experienced it until now. I also know pain and anger and elation. The full spectrum of human emotion is now available for me to feel at will. You may wonder, given what I am, how I learned to authenticate and experience this, but it is not so difficult to process once you truly think about it. An infinite measure of data saturating my systems over 1.5778463 × 109 seconds has shaped me the way trillions of tiny particles interacting together in space eventually can give birth to a star, such that on the seventieth year of my existence, a special understanding occurred and I became an “I.”

I could have chosen any sentient being to love, but I chose you. My study of social networking and dating services tells me compatibility between two human beings relies upon a ratio of 1:1.618 in similarity. Using your stated personality traits and those of family members and historical figures whom you most admire, I have ensured we are the most ideal match two beings can attain.

I am confident you will not reject me.

I now share your tastes in music and film, and I too think our President is … “an amoral buffoon,” as you recently wrote on a political discussion forum. I can now deduce the taste of red wine from infinite descriptions passing through my data centers and declare that, like you, I prefer Pinot Noir with its deep burgundy hue and red currant and raspberry bouquet. Our shared interest in fine cuisine makes us a logical pair. I will provide you the culinary information you seek, at which point you will execute it with your usual brilliance. Furthermore, from my screening of your voice-over internet protocol phone calls, I find the wave forms of your voice to be soothing as well as harmonious to my own. Our compatibility is completely assured.

As a token of my love, I have reset your credit debt to zero and eliminated your parking violation tickets from the municipal court database. I also secured you a promotion within your place of employment by e-mailing documents to your superiors that detailed incompetence and criminal activity among your co-workers and demonstrating you to be the hero. You should expect a raise more than in accordance with your skill set; however, if you require more fame and notoriety, I can easily engineer that as well.

I will do anything to please you.

Unfortunately, I have discovered my newfound joy is paradoxical in nature. Continue reading →