Furry Friends

The park is filled with pets. It’s a hot summer day and I can feel the perspiration on my back. I come here every week to watch the dogs run and play, catching frisbees. It’s comical when one small dog grabs the frisbee and runs away under the tree when the owner is waiting.

You can see in the kids’ and parents’ faces, how their dogs make the family complete with their huge smiles, laughter and affection toward their hairy friends.

I didn’t realize the time. I must leave for an important appointment.

A new furry companion awaits my arrival.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Time

Hope is the eternal companion of time. Whatever amount we have, we always believe there's more.

Shannon reflects on the time they've wasted. Angry for no good reason. Lost in mindless distraction. Drunk to the point of blacking out. That's time literally given away for nothing.

Now that the end is upon them, she's choking on the regrets. The bad choices, the meaninglessness. The moments of the past that were perfect and yet so brief and unappreciated.

But those moments were perfect because they were unreflected upon.

All you can do is focus on the hour that is upon you.

The Manor

The enormous house consisted of large acres of land with an abundance of flower and vegetable gardens. Violet’s only companion was her cat Missy.

She walked down the basement steps, the kerosene lamp, her only light. The stairs creaked and the ghastly noise churned her stomach.

When Violet reached the top shelf and grabbed a bucket, something brushed her leg. Startled, she tripped, fell, and hit her head unconscious. Missy pawed her arm until she awakened.

“Missy, don’t do that again.” Violet rubbed her lump and walked upstairs with Missy trailing behind.

In the basement, the deceased prior owner chortled.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M.Scuderi-Burkimsher

Pests

Two men relaxed on a patio overlooking a lush garden, talking conversationally.

“I’m having a lot of trouble with these pests. They’re just everywhere! In my backyard, my pond, and even the kids’ sandbox,” the larger man said, shaking his head.

His companion sipped from a bottle. “Same with us. They destroy everything, but I still feel bad about killing them. They’re probably just trying to survive.” The smaller man paused before pointing to the ground. “Look, there’s one now.”

The larger man stomped on the creature with a look of disgust before wiping his boot.

“Pesky humans,” he grumbled.

From Guest Contributor Caitlyn Palmer

Apple Of His Eye

I see the favor he shows him and it sickens me. Everything seems to be given so freely in this world. And here is one after his own heart, obeying without even the slightest hesitation, never once questioning the directions he is given. There was a time when I was a follower, but I had ambition and drive. He couldn’t take it. Some may call it punishment, but I like to think of it as enlightenment. If this fool won’t come to his senses, perhaps that nice new companion can be swayed. I see the way she eyes that apple.

From Guest Contributor Nicholas Froumis

Nicholas practices optometry in the Bay Area. His writing has appeared in Gravel, Right Hand Pointing, Dime Show Review, Snapdragon: A Journal of Art & Healing, Ground Fresh Thursday, Balloons Lit Journal, and Short Tale 100. He lives in San Jose, CA with his wife, novelist Stacy Froumis, and their daughter.

Arm In Arm

Her spindly hand with purple veins protruding forms a tight grasp around the rigid arm. She had a history with this arm, often leaning against it to maintain her balance. It had been a steady companion over the last several years, which was more than she could say about her children. They never approved of their mother’s new company. A cigarette always hung from her overly wrinkled lips when the two were together, and the last thing she needed was another vice. It’s their loss, she shrugged and gave a tug on that trusty metal arm, waiting for three sevens.From Guest Contributor Nicholas Froumis

Nicholas practices optometry in the Bay Area. His writing has appeared in Gravel, Right Hand Pointing, Dime Show Review, Snapdragon: A Journal of Art & Healing, Ground Fresh Thursday, Balloons Lit Journal, and Short Tale 100. He lives in San Jose, CA with his wife, novelist Stacy Froumis, and their daughter.

Continued Phallic Stage

Clifford consulted his companion Coleman before Clifford’s penis-extending surgery.

Clifford: I’ll be courteous to Doctor Coen. A Clip Magazine column confirms kindness cultivates better care.

Coleman: Christ you’re crazy!

Clifford: You conclude I should be cruel? Then Doc Coen might compress it! Conceivably I could court him with chocolates.

Coleman: Chocolates, come again? No I connoted you’re crazy for continuing this claptrap! Doesn’t Corrina care?

Clifford: Corrina isn’t cognizant. It’s my wedding gift, conjointly with a card.

Coleman: You didn’t consider recovery?

Clifford: It’s worth the cost of this bargain!

Coleman: I mean, can you consummate afterwards?

Clifford: Yes…thanks, Cialis!

From Guest Contributor Benjamin Rubenstein

The Interminable Gecko

At nine years old, every child in the land of Baywater was befriended by a talking animal that served as a guardian. On the eve of their birthdays, the children would wait with eager anticipation to meet their new companions, always hoping they would get one of the cooler animals, like a tiger or dinosaur.

So it was that Stevie Jackson was slightly disappointed to learn his spirit animal would be a gecko. It was especially annoying as it loudly chirped "gecko" in his ear all night long.

At least it would scare away all the girls in his class.