What's Up Pussycat?

An elderly lady made an urgent call to the vet because her cat was off her food.

The vet carried out a full examination before pronouncing.

‘I have some wonderful news for you Miss Soames. Your lovely tortoiseshell is pregnant and will soon have a litter of kittens. Congratulations!’

‘That’s impossible. She never goes out. She always stays in the house.’

Just then, an old and battered ginger tom walked into the kitchen and began to munch on some food.

‘I bet that he’s the culprit,’ the vet said.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said through red cheeks. ‘That’s Dewdrop’s brother.’

From Guest Contributor Rick Haynes

Outside The Box

Annie is missing. “Not in her room,” Mom said. “Can’t find her outdoorshoes,” noted Dad. “Maybe she fell into a humongous puddle,” quippedyounger brother. Older brother was silent. Two guinea pigs madlythreaded wheels. Crows lined the backyard fence squawking at thehouse. “Bet she’s at a friend’s,” said Dad. “Maybe a monster snatchedher,” younger brother grinned. “That’s enough young man,” assertedMom. “We need to think OUTSIDE the box,” Dad stated. “Maybe someoneput her INSIDE a box,” giggled younger brother. “Hush!” yelled Mom.Older brother emerged: “Annie’s in my bedroom closet with an imaginaryfriend.”From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction.

Brothers In Arms

'You used my envelope,' Cian stated

'You weren't using it!' his brother Padraic replied.

'It’s my fecking envelope.'

'There's a draw full of envelopes!'

'I wanted that one,'

‘It sat on the kitchen table two weeks and you didn't touch it you fucker ya!'

'But I was going to and I paid for the feckin' thing!' Cian yelled, whilst swigging some Paddy’s.

'I'll give you the money,'

'I don't want the feckin’ money, I want me envelope back.'

'It’s gone now use one of the others!'

'Bollocks to this shite, I'm going on the feckin’ Beer!'

'Well feck off then....'

From Guest Contributor Valkyrie Kerry Kelly

Strange Sounds

A year ago it started like a joke. We were laying on our flat mattress together. Innocent. We were children.

Amadi was my brother, I was twelve. It came one night when we watched Mama and Papa do things underneath their sheets while she made strange sounds like she was in pain. When I slept that night, I felt it. Amadi took off my pants and put his thing inside of me. There was a pain like it was a needle, only there was breaking and entering, a salted liquid, and nine months later a child was on my breasts.

From Guest Contributor Oghenemudia Emmanuel

The Dog And I

The dog and I had a disagreement over where my hands belonged. She had a name, but I’d reached the point where I rarely used it anymore.

“Why can’t you learn to be more independent?” I asked, trying desperately not to raise my voice.

“Why can’t you just put your stupid hands on me?” the dog asked with her eyes and whimpers.

It seemed we were at an impasse. I just wanted to read my book after a long day at work, and the dog just wanted to be loved after a long day of solitude. First world problems indeed.

From Guest Contributor Dan Slaten

My Proudest Moment

The river was calm, and the fish were biting. I wouldn’t dare tell my father I hated fishing. It was our time together. I watched as he baited his hook and threw it into the water.

“Isn’t this nice, Son. I really enjoy our time together.”

“Me too, Dad.”

I swung my rod into the water and within minutes I got a bite.

“Reel it in, Son. That’s it. What a catch! That’s a big fish you got there.”

I looked at my Dad and his face was beaming.

I’d always remember how proud he was of me that day.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Old Flames

A haggard creature across the bar clutches her G&T with claw-like hands.

The aquiline nose stands out from the sunken skin, triggering a disconcerting recognition.

“It can’t be,” he thinks.

Sensing his gaze, the woman looks over.

The shiny dome where once was hair, the double chin, the beer paunch, are a disturbing parody of the man she’d known.

“Lawrence?”

They’d been passionate lovers a generation ago.

Overcoming mutual revulsion, they chat a while, no chemistry between them now.

The only chemical they have in common is the alcohol anesthetizing them until they go their separate ways into the night.

From Guest Contributor Ian Fletcher

Ned

Ned woke with a sore head. The boys would be bailing hay, might have a spare half-one of whiskey for him. Still wearing yesterday's overalls he yanked on wellie boots and moseyed along the pot-hole filled coast lane up to the farms. Fred and Slap-head saw him weaving in and out of the irritated cows. Sneakily Fred poured a laxative into his moonshine. Great craic!

After a few good slugs of the bottle Ned hobbled quickly through the gate back to his stone cottage. Aggie was furious. He didn't make it to the outhouse. Her mother's floral sofa was ruined.

From Guest Contributor Valkyrie Kerry Kelly

Facebook Friends

I only ever communicate with Kari on Facebook. We are too similar now, both forever reliving the war we shared like stale bread. She lost her Navy career after an inpatient stay while I am just trying to get to the end of mine by avoiding the pills doctors offer for anxiety and depression. Yesterday she posted a picture from Camp Bastion of her and a British nurse we worked with. The caption said this is my favorite person from Camp Bastion. I write in the comments section my least favorite person from Bastion was me. She says she understands.

From Guest Contributor Matthew Borczon

The Reason He Loves

“How do you have so much love for me?” my wife asked. We were laying on the couch.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You understand people so well,” she said.

“It just took time,” I replied. “I wasn’t always this way.”

She put her hand on my chest. “How were you?”

“I slept with half the town. I didn’t care at all about anyone.” A shameful silence followed. “One morning I felt empty and meaningless.”

“Then what?”

“I started searching for my soul. When I found it, I was in pain.”

“And?”

“I found the only cure was love.”

From Guest Contributor Steve Colori