Posts Tagged ‘ Fiction X.I ’

“You Non-Miraculous Son of a Bitch,” by Eirik Gumeny

Apr 20th, 2013 | By

Danny Ramirez was sitting on the toilet when he heard it. The constant, staccato thuds and the slight clatter of plates and glasses bunny-hopping across the kitchen counter.

Not again, he thought. Not another embarrassing phone call to the complex office. Not another disgusted plumber calling in for backup. Maria walking in at the exact worst moment. Danny could feel his face turning red at the mere thought. Only then did he realize he hadn’t flushed yet. There was no way the steady shaking could be the result of a pipe trying desperately not to explode. Danny relaxed considerably.

“In the Attic,” by Alexei Kalinchuk

Apr 20th, 2013 | By

I found a ventriloquist’s dummy in a felt-lined box in the attic of my late uncle. Upon lifting the lid, its eyes snapped open and it began moving its jaw. He was glad to see me, he said. Living in a box is no living. He wanted out. He wanted to do new things.

“And God Said…” by Andy Bankin

Apr 20th, 2013 | By

And God said, “What should I have for lunch? I am a vengeful and mighty God, but for realz though, I’m hungry.”

Normally God had Chinese, for He was the Hebrew God, but God always overate when He ordered from Liu’s Garden, and He didn’t want to just coast through the rest of the afternoon. After all He still hadn’t invented oxygen or cocker spaniels yet. Also His wife was teasing Him about the extra weight He’d gained since all that “Let There Be Light!” business.

“True Love Ways,” by Dane Zeller

Apr 20th, 2013 | By

Marissa placed her hand on my shoulder and thanked me for helping with the three-month anniversary celebration of her relationship with Brad. We had just set a table in the lunch room of the company where we all worked, Brad in accounting on the third floor of the building, Marissa and I in the fourth floor marketing department. In about a half hour, at closing time, we would be toasting Marissa’s and Brad’s relationship, and they would be exchanging little gifts that I had helped both pick out for each other. At five-thirty, I would be helping clean up the room, and at midnight that night, at home, alone, I would still be feeling her hand on my shoulder. True love of a man for a woman involves helping her in any way he can, even if it breaks his heart.

“My Neighbor Betty,” by Eric Suhem

Apr 20th, 2013 | By

My neighbor Betty had become my nemesis. I’m not sure how it all began, but over the last 13 days, things had escalated into an intolerable state. Though we love our neighbors, somehow I knew that today it would end, resulting in the end of Betty or the end of me. I looked back at the 13 days, trying to figure out how it had gotten to this point.