Career Day

“Good work today, Boys,” Bud Peptide said to his sons, Spud and Pud. “We finished plowing the back 40. You fellas deserve a reward.”

Bud pulled some bills from his wallet and handed them to Spud.

“Head into town and buy yourselves your first drink at the Short Twig Saloon.”

The brothers rode into town, burst through the saloon door and bellied up to the bar.

“Two beers,” Spud said to the bartender.

The bartender looked the boys over.

“Can’t you read?” he said, pointing to the sign on the door. “NO MINORS!”

“We’re not miners,” Pud said. “We’re farmers!”

From Guest Contributor Lee Hammerschmidt

Lee is a Visual Artist/Writer/Troubadour. He is the author of the short story collections, A Hole Of My Own, It’s Noir O’clock Somewhere, For Richer or Noirer, Flash Wounds, and Pulp Stains. Check out his hit parade on YouTube!

Missed Connections

The waiter comes around to check on me again. I avert my eyes in embarrassment and try to discreetly check the time on my phone. Going on two hours now. I should really give up.

“Sitting inside! Text me when you get here x”

Sent.

Delivered.

Read.

Ignored.

I sigh and crumple. I call the waiter over. I order a drink. “Of course, madam,” he says as he scurries away. Was that a look of pity in his eyes? I decide I’d rather be drunk than dwell on that any longer.

Man. Remind me to never use this app again.

From Guest Contributor Rachel Martz

In A Bar, Near The Sea

“No harm done”, I replied, but inside I was fuming.

My new shirt! Bought it at Ray’s Boutique and it wasn’t even on sale. I desperately wanted to impress the brunette and now look at it…

The man spilled some beer on it, looked at me and apologized.

I decided to leave it. The guy probably didn’t do it on purpose. After all, I was here to have a drink with some friends and not to get into an ordinary bar fight.

Of course, the fact I knew he was a former heavy weight world champion did help a bit.

From Guest Contributor Hervé Suys

Hervé Suys (°1968 – Ronse, Belgium) started writing disturbing fiction whilst recovering from a sports injury. He writes them mostly hatless and barefooted.

Brief Affair

On night three of a four-day meeting, four of us drank in a bar. I played up to Jim, who was 20 years older, the boss, and buying.

A young blonde walked up and clasped Jim’s shoulder. “Let’s dance.”

Jim cut out faster than our company bonuses.

“She should be carded,” Tony said.

Jim returned quickly and gulped his drink. He signaled for a refill.

“You’re early,” Phil said. “I didn’t expect you ‘til morning.”

Phil, why don’t you suck up to the boss?

“Was she a pro?” Tony asked.

“She shanghaied me,” Jim said, “to dance with her mother.”

From Guest Contributor Tom Snethen

Tom is an Oregonian writing about the scoundrels he met in the chemical industry and being alone and scared as a widower at fifty.

Bottles Of Love

Nick is aroused by the clinking of bottles in the fridge. Mother’s having another drink.

That old clink, so familiar. It’s a constant sound since Dad took off, piercing Nick’s twelve-year old ears.

Cue Mother’s laughter, cackling. Cracked.

He can’t tell Mother what it means to see tenderness replaced by laughter. Rage. Bills go unpaid, furniture disappears. But night after night, bottles take over. Wine, vodka. Beer.

One night, Nick sneaks downstairs, removes each bottle with methodical coldness. Hurls each one at the floor.

He shatters again and again, surveys the ruins.

Tomorrow, more will appear. He’ll do it again.

From Guest Contributor Yash Seyedbagheri

Yash is a graduate of Colorado State University's MFA program in fiction. His story, "Soon," was nominated for a Pushcart. Yash’s stories are forthcoming or have been published in Café Lit, Mad Swirl, 50 Word Stories, and Ariel Chart, among others.

Rex

Marvin is out cold after his drink is spiked.

He wakes up to a group of men around him laughing. The men hate shapeshifters. Each of Marvin’s limbs is tied with rope, the ropes attached to bulldozers.

The signal is given and the bulldozers pull away at the same time.

Marvin is stretched to eight meters, then twenty. At forty meters Marvin snaps into pieces and dies.

Clark the shapeshifter gets there too late. Clark transforms into a T. Rex and says, “Hear you’re looking for me.”

Clark will avenge the death of his best friend, Marvin the Elastic Man.

From Guest Contributor Denny E. Marshall

Overindulgence

She was tired and had too much to drink. Her eyes drooped to provide the perfect screen for strange imaginings. Time passed.

Chloe jolted awake to a shift in the buzz of conversation, her vision presenting a weird split screen of a now empty hotel bar, a new day’s sun barging through the large windows and reflecting off each polished surface to sear through the fog in her brain: judgmentally bright.

Her clothes smelled of staleness and smoke. Stale vomit prowled the back of her throat.

Chloe waddled to the bathroom, suddenly aware of another need.

She’d open late today.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Drink

"Drink!"

Gunnar raised the cup to his lips, the sickening in his stomach impossible to ignore.

"Drink!"

Gunnar gagged down one more cup, a temporary respite from the bile in his throat.

"Drink!"

Gunnar could barely focus on his hand, let alone make out his fellow revelers. The entire universe had shrunk down to just him and his cup.

"Drink!"

There was echoing laughter as Gunnar collapsed to the floor. It sounded distant, like it was coming from another hall.

"Drink!"

Gunnar's final thought was that he hoped losing a battle with his cups was good enough to enter Valhalla.