Special Sauce

Maybe advertising was the wrong field for Bob. His boss, Ralph, passed him up for the accounts he wanted, like “Granola Gambit” and “Veg It Up,” giving those to his arch-nemesis, Ted. Bob kept getting accounts like “Killer Shrimp” and “Pork for Your Fork.” (Bob was a known vegan; passive aggressive much, Ralph?) Bob would’ve left ages ago had it not been for his secret love for his coworker, Darlene. He couldn’t shake the vision he’d had of her one day when he’d come upon her eating barbecued ribs like a wild animal. She’d been covered in sauce, but adorable.

From Guest Contributor Susmita Ramani

Susmita lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and two children. She’s a lifelong writer whose work has appeared in The Daily Drunk, Nymeria Publishing (winner of March 2021 poetry contest), 50 Word Stories, and Vine Leaves Press (50 Give or Take), and will appear in upcoming issues of Short Fiction Break and Secret Attic.

Affinity

You talk in your sleep. At first I thought it was adorable. I’d lean my ear closer to your head on my chest and catch things like, “Silly penguin doesn’t even know!” or “Better take that milk back to Saturn tomorrow.” I’d laugh and go back to reading and hold you closer. Then things changed, starting with when you arched your back away from me and hissed like a demon cat from hell. I didn’t hold you closer after that, and it’s gotten weirder since. Now I lay awake on my side of the bed, wondering what you’ll do next.

From Guest Contributor Sarah Reddick

Sarah is a writer who spent ten years learning the hard way in Mississippi and she will always be grateful for that state's ability to give a body the blues. She is currently enrolled in the MFA program at Lindenwood University in St. Charles, MO. Her work has previously been published in The Local Voice, Salt Zine, Cattywampus Magazine, and the Mid-Rivers Review.

Cat Number Four

Shelly sighed as she looked at the stray. Something in her mind shouted "Run away," but it was too late. The kitten would be coming with her.

On the cab ride home, as she stroked the plush fur, Shelly recalled the dreams she had as a child. A successful career in business. A handsome husband. Two obedient children. Those dreams were now gone, replaced by this adorable fur ball in her lap.

She entered her home and set the kitten on the floor. There was no turning back. This was cat number four. Shelly was officially a crazy cat lady.