Losers

It was the last inning in an adult softball playoff game. We were behind by two runs. I had gotten a walk, which filled the bases. The next batter could tie or win the game. The manager replaced two of us with pinch runners, which caused our second and third outs for batting out of order. Many people thought that I was a good runner. Pinch runners were supposed to be used for the injured. I had objected to being subbed out, and this time it ensured our loss. I didn’t say it out loud, but I quit softball then.

From Guest Contributor Doug Hawley

Infinity

Duncan had considered trying out an infinity mirror experiment, but taking even a box camera into a photo booth had always seemed so...uncouth.

He’d shelved the whole idea down into a little dark corner of his timidity.

Only the recent spate of high risk narcissistic selfies had managed to prise open that dungeon of shyness and resuscitate the notion.

Smartphone ideal for purpose – persuading himself that he was so much more cerebral than sneering losers – he climbed into the photo booth and popped a coin into the slot.

He timed everything perfectly and vanished up the orifice of physics.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Paddy

The man who brought hope amongst the riots: whom bitter losers rushed to associate with terrorism; rather than defence of very frightened people who were let down by establishment they had long trusted. Scum associated him with terrorism, when all he strove to protect family and neighbours.

He adored Martin Luther King. Poisonous painted him with the hate they retained because he shamed them.

All the family were burying was a father who wanted peace and took steps to achieve and promote that.

I was there at the burial of a man who loved people, no matter who they hated.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid