Dear Purveyors of Canned Meat

spam_varietiesWho knew it came in so many different varieties?

By Maggie Rascal

If only the spammers would listen, this is what I’d tell them…

Dear Purveyors of Canned Meat:

Thank you for your interest in our website. Because so many of you have left similar comments, we’ve put together a list of common observations, questions and concerns. Please consult this FAS (frequently added spam) guide before posting.

Most Sincerely,

The Site Administrators


FAS

The Helper

It’s thoughtful of you to be concerned about our SEO scores, Google ranking, social media marketing strategy and website layout. Really, though, we’re happy with how everything is going right now. We’ll keep your contact information on hand if we’re ever looking to make a change. Yup, it will be right there in its own special, circular file.

The Newbie

You have a lot of questions! Fortunately, the answers to most of them can be found easily, eliminating the need for us to post your comment that (coincidentally, we’re certain) leads to a site selling cheap shoes/purses/NFL jerseys/silicone wristbands. Here is the information you’re seeking: Continue reading

That Little Talk

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

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

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

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

Milly’s Magical Moment

By Carol E. Wyer

Millicent Jarvis thanked the air stewardess, stepped out from the aeroplane into the warm evening breeze at Larnaca airport, and promptly slid down the steps, landing on top of the man who had been her unfortunate neighbour during the flight.

“Oh Lord, I’m really sorry,” she spluttered, not for the first time in the last four and a half hours. She had already hit him over the head with her holdall as she tried to cram it in the overhead locker, and had spilt her glass of red wine over his light-coloured trousers. Each time, he had patiently smiled at her and told her not to worry about it. She loathed being clumsy. She was forever tripping over her own feet. Maybe if she were to wear her spectacles more often it wouldn’t happen so much but Milly hated her spectacles. They made her look crabby and old.

The man helped her board the bus which was rapidly filling with excited holiday-makers and insisted she hold on tightly to the strap above her head.

“Staying in Paphos?” his wife asked.

“No, Limassol,” replied Milly. “I’m meeting my parents at a hotel there. They’ve been there a week already. They booked this trip for me as a surprise. I’ve been studying for my finals for months and they thought I needed a break.”

The husband and wife exchanged a look of relief. At least Milly wouldn’t be bumping into them all holiday.

Sometime later, having done no further damage, other than standing on several toes while disembarking the bus and knocking a pile of papers off the desk at Passport Control, Milly arrived at the hotel. Continue reading

A Word Geek Visits the Doctor

By Maggie Rascal

It’s a dire diagnosis for our intrepid heroine…

“We don’t see you in here often, Maggie. What seems to be the trouble today?”

“Well, doctor, its this darn apostrophe, thats how it started but things has got alot worse in the past couple days. I should of came in sooner. I know.”

“What exactly do you mean, ‘this darn apostrophe’? I don’t see any apostrophe.”

“Precisely my point! It went missing where I want it, than shows up where you know it should ought not be.”

“Ah, I understand. Your dilemma with apostrophe usage is just part of a much larger problem. Continue reading